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exhilarationNow If Only I Could Actually Say It To Shaina...
I. Just had the most horrible experience.
Okay. Not the most horrible. But it was pretty bad.
The ground is covered in ice. Everything is covered in ice. I'm cool with that. I'm really, really careful, it's fine, I've got it. Everyone slides on the ice a little. It's fine.
IT'S NOT FINE.
One of the first things I had done to my house was to have it split into two. The only way to get upstairs is to go up the stairs on the side of the house. The stairs that are, like everything else, covered in ice. AND I LIVE UPSTAIRS.
That little voice, the one that was telling me from the very beginning, Lara, this is not a good idea, Lara, you do not want to go up and down stairs every day, Lara, this is your house, you should fix up the first floor for yourself before anything else, yes, that voice, I should have listened to that one, not the one that said, Lara, you could rent the first floor this winter, you know, you need the money, you can handle the stairs, it won't be a problem...
So there was me, clinging to the railing and making a complete fool of myself trying to get upstairs, it was really... it was completely humiliating, actually. The way the ice had frozen made each step like an incline of ice, and it was, it was, it was... it was completely impossible. I could not do it. I quite possibly have never been so embarrassed in my entire life. Nothing says "I'm pathetic" more than knocking on your downstairs tenant's door and asking for help up the stairs. But I didn't know what else to do, and I was practically in tears just from the bitter cold, never mind the frustration and embarrassment and all the rest. I tried to pull it together a bit, but, seriously. I never want to repeat that ever again.
I can't stand stupid people. I'm around so many stupid people so often, though, that I really try to be tolerant of them. It's just one particular brand of stupid that I'm having trouble dealing with. How best to explain this?
I work with this woman named Shaina. I was trying to explain to her yesterday my ordeal with getting to Camden, and she looked at me and said, "you should have called me," as if we were like best friends or something and of course she would have given me a ride - the woman has no clue that I can't stand her and would never dream of calling her, for any reason, let alone for a ride up to Camden.
Ever since first meeting her she has treated me like a complete idiot. She explained to me, in baby-detail, how to operate the machines - fine. That part is fine. She also explained to me, in baby-detail, what espresso is. What a cappuccino is. What a cafe macchiato and a latte macchiato and a cafe latte are and how to make them. Didn't matter that I told her I'd done this before. Doesn't sound so bad? Okay, she also explained to me how to count change back to customers. Give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps? Maybe she did not hear me tell her this was not my first job ever and that I am completely comfortable operating a cash register, and do know how to count?
How about, the day I got my first paycheck, she "explained" to me that now I need to go to the bank and open a checking account and put my check in it.
What, in god's name, did she think I had been doing all these years before she enlightened me to this???? I even told her that I had another job already - what did she think I was doing with that paycheck? Eating it?
She also can't seem to comprehend that I'm not desperate for money. She's always trying to "give me her hours," meaning she's trying to bully me into working for her and play it off as her doing me a favor. She calls me at, oh, five in the morning, on days that I don't work, saying "Pick up, it's Shaina, I want to give you my hours!" when what she really means is "can you work for me?" Or she'll even flat out say, "I'm giving you my hours tomorrow" or something, and then tell the manager that I said I wanted to work for her.
For the record, I have NEVER said I needed more hours. I have never once complained that I am not getting enough hours, and I have never once complained that I don't have enough money.
And what kind of stuff does she talk to me about? She tells me about all kinds of sales where I can get "deals" on buying things for my house. Yeah, my house that doesn't even have one fully functional kitchen, and I need to be buying furniture and dishes and glasses and cabinets and stuff. I'll deal with that stuff when the time comes, thanks, and I'm looking forward to picking stuff out on my own. I don't need to know that wal-mart or K-mart or whatever is having a clearance on this that and the other thing. I'm not buying anything now. Where am I going to put it all, anyway?
And she totally thinks I am a house-flipper. She's always saying, "and then you'll flip it, and take the money and [whatever]" and I keep telling her I'm not flipping the house, I'm living on one floor and renting the other floor, not selling the whole thing. She tells customers that I'm flipping that house. I'm not flipping it. Repeat, NOT flipping the house. I'm not living in it to save money while I turn it into something super deluxe and then selling it for two million dollars. I'm living in it because I don't have anywhere else to go.
Must I deal with her day in and day out? It's freakin' annoying! It's like she can't even hear me telling her stuff. She gives me all this "advice" that's totally useless, telling me how to cook spaghetti and how to bargain-shop and how to sign up for a cell phone plan, and I tell her, repeatedly, that I already know how to do these things. I tell her I've lived in four different countries, I tell her I've been on my own since I was eighteen, but it's like she can't even hear me because she isn't processing what I tell her.
So, sure, I'm in a bind so I'm going to call her and ask her for a ride. Especially since she's telling our other coworkers that I had to go to traffic court in Camden having something to do with me losing my license - yeah wouldn't that just be simple. No, Shaina, that is not why I had court, okay? Why I did is none of your business, but I never said it had to do with traffic violations or my driver's license. Wouldn't you just like to know about my criminal record, then, eh?
And then she acts like we're friends, like I should call her and we should hang out at her house together, or something. I can't stand the woman. She has no clue. I don't get it.
And what kind of forty-some-year old wants to hang out with someone my age anyway?
Geez, after typing that out, I've really wound down. In the grand scheme of things, she really is not that bad. Perhaps the ordeal with GETTING INTO MY OWN HOUSE stole a little bit of my steam as well.
My shoulder aches. It really, really hurts, just under my shoulder blade, and yes, the other shoulder hurt this morning. That switching sides thing is happening again. It hurts me enough to keep me up at night, I don't think I've slept a whole night through without waking up in pain, well, the whole time I've been living here, really. And yet sometimes it's one side that hurts, and sometimes it's the other side. Every so often, it doesn't hurt at all.
But that's not really anything compared to the rest of it all.
Let me just daydream about my houses a little, or let me just daydream about friends that I don't have, oh, while I'm at it, let me just daydream about someday having a job that doesn't involve continued interaction with idiots, hell, if I'm going to daydream, why don't I go all out and dream about having a body that doesn't play games with me, then, eh?
I. Just had the most horrible experience.
Okay. Not the most horrible. But it was pretty bad.
The ground is covered in ice. Everything is covered in ice. I'm cool with that. I'm really, really careful, it's fine, I've got it. Everyone slides on the ice a little. It's fine.
IT'S NOT FINE.
One of the first things I had done to my house was to have it split into two. The only way to get upstairs is to go up the stairs on the side of the house. The stairs that are, like everything else, covered in ice. AND I LIVE UPSTAIRS.
That little voice, the one that was telling me from the very beginning, Lara, this is not a good idea, Lara, you do not want to go up and down stairs every day, Lara, this is your house, you should fix up the first floor for yourself before anything else, yes, that voice, I should have listened to that one, not the one that said, Lara, you could rent the first floor this winter, you know, you need the money, you can handle the stairs, it won't be a problem...
So there was me, clinging to the railing and making a complete fool of myself trying to get upstairs, it was really... it was completely humiliating, actually. The way the ice had frozen made each step like an incline of ice, and it was, it was, it was... it was completely impossible. I could not do it. I quite possibly have never been so embarrassed in my entire life. Nothing says "I'm pathetic" more than knocking on your downstairs tenant's door and asking for help up the stairs. But I didn't know what else to do, and I was practically in tears just from the bitter cold, never mind the frustration and embarrassment and all the rest. I tried to pull it together a bit, but, seriously. I never want to repeat that ever again.
I can't stand stupid people. I'm around so many stupid people so often, though, that I really try to be tolerant of them. It's just one particular brand of stupid that I'm having trouble dealing with. How best to explain this?
I work with this woman named Shaina. I was trying to explain to her yesterday my ordeal with getting to Camden, and she looked at me and said, "you should have called me," as if we were like best friends or something and of course she would have given me a ride - the woman has no clue that I can't stand her and would never dream of calling her, for any reason, let alone for a ride up to Camden.
Ever since first meeting her she has treated me like a complete idiot. She explained to me, in baby-detail, how to operate the machines - fine. That part is fine. She also explained to me, in baby-detail, what espresso is. What a cappuccino is. What a cafe macchiato and a latte macchiato and a cafe latte are and how to make them. Didn't matter that I told her I'd done this before. Doesn't sound so bad? Okay, she also explained to me how to count change back to customers. Give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps? Maybe she did not hear me tell her this was not my first job ever and that I am completely comfortable operating a cash register, and do know how to count?
How about, the day I got my first paycheck, she "explained" to me that now I need to go to the bank and open a checking account and put my check in it.
What, in god's name, did she think I had been doing all these years before she enlightened me to this???? I even told her that I had another job already - what did she think I was doing with that paycheck? Eating it?
She also can't seem to comprehend that I'm not desperate for money. She's always trying to "give me her hours," meaning she's trying to bully me into working for her and play it off as her doing me a favor. She calls me at, oh, five in the morning, on days that I don't work, saying "Pick up, it's Shaina, I want to give you my hours!" when what she really means is "can you work for me?" Or she'll even flat out say, "I'm giving you my hours tomorrow" or something, and then tell the manager that I said I wanted to work for her.
For the record, I have NEVER said I needed more hours. I have never once complained that I am not getting enough hours, and I have never once complained that I don't have enough money.
And what kind of stuff does she talk to me about? She tells me about all kinds of sales where I can get "deals" on buying things for my house. Yeah, my house that doesn't even have one fully functional kitchen, and I need to be buying furniture and dishes and glasses and cabinets and stuff. I'll deal with that stuff when the time comes, thanks, and I'm looking forward to picking stuff out on my own. I don't need to know that wal-mart or K-mart or whatever is having a clearance on this that and the other thing. I'm not buying anything now. Where am I going to put it all, anyway?
And she totally thinks I am a house-flipper. She's always saying, "and then you'll flip it, and take the money and [whatever]" and I keep telling her I'm not flipping the house, I'm living on one floor and renting the other floor, not selling the whole thing. She tells customers that I'm flipping that house. I'm not flipping it. Repeat, NOT flipping the house. I'm not living in it to save money while I turn it into something super deluxe and then selling it for two million dollars. I'm living in it because I don't have anywhere else to go.
Must I deal with her day in and day out? It's freakin' annoying! It's like she can't even hear me telling her stuff. She gives me all this "advice" that's totally useless, telling me how to cook spaghetti and how to bargain-shop and how to sign up for a cell phone plan, and I tell her, repeatedly, that I already know how to do these things. I tell her I've lived in four different countries, I tell her I've been on my own since I was eighteen, but it's like she can't even hear me because she isn't processing what I tell her.
So, sure, I'm in a bind so I'm going to call her and ask her for a ride. Especially since she's telling our other coworkers that I had to go to traffic court in Camden having something to do with me losing my license - yeah wouldn't that just be simple. No, Shaina, that is not why I had court, okay? Why I did is none of your business, but I never said it had to do with traffic violations or my driver's license. Wouldn't you just like to know about my criminal record, then, eh?
And then she acts like we're friends, like I should call her and we should hang out at her house together, or something. I can't stand the woman. She has no clue. I don't get it.
And what kind of forty-some-year old wants to hang out with someone my age anyway?
Geez, after typing that out, I've really wound down. In the grand scheme of things, she really is not that bad. Perhaps the ordeal with GETTING INTO MY OWN HOUSE stole a little bit of my steam as well.
My shoulder aches. It really, really hurts, just under my shoulder blade, and yes, the other shoulder hurt this morning. That switching sides thing is happening again. It hurts me enough to keep me up at night, I don't think I've slept a whole night through without waking up in pain, well, the whole time I've been living here, really. And yet sometimes it's one side that hurts, and sometimes it's the other side. Every so often, it doesn't hurt at all.
But that's not really anything compared to the rest of it all.
Let me just daydream about my houses a little, or let me just daydream about friends that I don't have, oh, while I'm at it, let me just daydream about someday having a job that doesn't involve continued interaction with idiots, hell, if I'm going to daydream, why don't I go all out and dream about having a body that doesn't play games with me, then, eh?
