Finding My Summer Sidekick: A Saga of FaceTimes and First Impressions
First stop: Gypsy Housing — a Facebook group chat where I posted a little blurb about who I am and what it’s like to live with Duchenne muscular dystrophy. It went something like this:
🌆 “Seeking a live-in personal assistant in NYC this summer — $750/week, free rent, and a private bath in Soho. I’m Charley, a 24-year-old power wheelchair user interning in healthcare PR — come help out, hang with Roxy, and enjoy some bagels, Knicks, and memoirs! 🐶📚🏀”
First to reach out was Madeline, a nutritionist and fellow NYU Class of 2023 grad. She was incredibly sweet and a tempting candidate — especially because she can cook healthy meals. Then came Dani, a native of Bogotá, Colombia, who has a brown Chihuahua that reminded me of Roxy. She said she was up for the challenge of caring for my chaotic mutt.
I tend to lean toward women in this hiring process — not because I’m sexist or creepy — but because, in my experience, women tend to approach caretaker roles with more thought, care, and compassion. Plus, Roxy is basically a feminist at this point and demands it.
Still, starting from scratch is stressful. You have to FaceTime candidates on the fly, break the ice with some small talk, and see if your personalities jive. Then, most importantly, you have to make sure they can actually do the job — lifting me from bed to toilet to chair, dressing me (which, honestly, is its own protocol — think of one of those airplane safety demonstrations where the flight attendant is dead serious miming everything step-by-step, except here it’s socks, pants, and dignity on the line). It usually takes a lot of trial and error. Picture the awkwardness of seeing someone naked after only a one-hour video call — it’s basically speed dating meets medical training.
I even branched out to Nextdoor, thinking maybe the neighborhood vibe would bring some hidden gems. And to be fair, Nextdoor wasn’t the worst — the real circus of shady characters showed up on Facebook and especially Craigslist. Honestly, what even is the scammer play here? Posing as a caretaker to steal...my cough assist machine? Maybe a kidney while they’re at it.
Not that I can judge — I once fell for a scam buying Knicks playoff tickets. Lost $600 until my dad went full Liam Neeson, called the guy pretending to be a detective at the NYPD’s 9th Precinct, and scared him into Venmoing me back like a total scaredy cat. Shadiest deal I’ve ever made — and I’m still mad the Knicks lost that series anyway.
In the past, my mom would lead the charge — helping me screen candidates, meet them in person, and generally serve as the gatekeeper. But now that I’m 24 and stepping into my first real corporate experience, I decided to take the reins. I’m only bringing her in for the basics: questions, contracts, and helping me divvy up the finances. Gotta at least pretend I'm an adult, right?
It’s scary, sure. But I’m stepping back into my old stomping grounds, living in the NYU dorms again — a sweet reminder that, even though I’m getting older, NYU still beats in my heart. Who knows, maybe grad school is in the cards.
For now, I’m just taking it one day at a time, weaving through the madness, and getting ready to reenter the concrete jungle — where dreams are made of, scams are plentiful, and Knicks playoff tickets are (hopefully) legit this time.
