"Well, here's the lobby. You would be spending most of your time in here, or in the kitchen, depending." She was a long-haired, stout, middle-aged woman and looked and spoke like she had a warm, loving family at home. She probably had an old, comfortable chair near her front door in which she sat with a calico cat that has a French name. She smelled of lilac. "You are familiar with Word and Excel, right?"

"Yeah, I've used both," I answered.

"Great! Well that will help you as you..." Her voice trailed off as she led me to a white, key-guarded doorway. "Because of confidentiality and HIPAA regs, I can't show you the hallways or the living quarters, but if you decide to work here, you will of course see them. You can take a peak, if you like. I don't see anything wrong with that." I maneuvered to the window. The hallway lacked vibrance, but was full of stapled-down rugs and glued pottery. It looked homey.

"I'll lead you down to the storage room, now." We walked back to the lobby and took a left turn to a well-lit hallway with a key-guarded doorway at the end and an opening on the right to the kitchen. As we passed, we heard an old voice,

"Oh, no, not this one. Hmm."

"Who is that?" I asked, stopping and stepping back to the doorway.

"Who is who?" She responded.

"There is a man in the kitchen. He didn't sound like a worker."

"Klaus? Are you talking about Klaus?" She walked to the opening and we looked onward. The man slowly moved three spice jars to a large array set on a counter and grabbed three more spice jars from a cabinet. He unscrewed one of the jars and wafted it. He looked concerned and looked at the label. "Oh no, I don't like this one."

In an even tone, she said, "Klaus is a patient here."

I was puzzled. "Why is he allowed to be out here? I don't mean to sound alarmed or rude, but the most of the doors are key-guarded and locked."

She was quieter, "Klaus is a long-term, Alzheimer's patient. It has become part of his routine, for about a year now, to come into the kitchen and sniff the spices for about half an hour.

"He doesn't remember which ones he likes or not."

"I don't think I would like to work here. I'm sorry for wasting your time." I left.