2009 August

Ambush

August 9, 2009 By Mo 14 Comments

Last night Bill and I went to dinner for a friend’s 40th birthday. It was a great night—dinner at a fancy-schmancy restaurant and then drinks by the rooftop pool. Toward the end of the night, everyone decided to go to Carney’s for some late-night chili burgers and hot dogs. (All the better to soak up all the alcohol everyone had!)

Everyone was having a great time, sitting outside, chowing down, laughing and talking.

And then the shit hit the fan.

One of the couples at the party sat down near us after they got their food. I made a comment to the woman along the lines of “Oh, you changed your clothes.” I didn’t mean anything by it; it was just a way of making polite conversation.

I could see something in her face, and she turned around and unleashed her rage.

She yelled at me from the other table, asking me my why I didn’t like her and wondered why I was always rude to her, looking her up and down, judging her.

Huh?

This is a woman who is somewhat prominent in our town. A woman who couldn’t be bothered to remember my name—or my husband’s—for about a year. A woman who stuck out her hand and reintroduced herself every time we saw each other as if we hadn’t already met 374 times before. I never went out my way to be her BFF because I was clearly never a blip on her radar. Or so I thought.

This woman is good friends with some of my friends, but I’ve never socialized with her. I’ve never even gotten past the niceties with her before she’s moved on to someone more prominent, more important in her eyes. When her and her husband showed up earlier in the evening I stood up, said hello, hugged her and told her it was good to see her. I did the same with her husband. I was nice, asked how they were and made small talk with her husband. Never once was I rude. EVER. Not last night. Not before that.

So I was stunned at first. Her attack totally came out of left field.

I kind of laughed a little because I wasn’t sure she was serious at first. And then I asked her what in the world she was talking about. I told her I was never anything but polite, that I’ve never been rude to her.

And that’s when she did her Linda Blair impersonation—head spinning around all crazy—and unloaded. Apparently, this woman who I’ve never really had occasion to talk to, who has looked ME up and down on occasion and can’t remember my fucking name, thinks I’m a the most rude person she’s ever met. And not only that, she’s not the only one who thinks so. Everyone apparently in her world thinks I’m rude. I never talk to her and she doesn’t know why I think I’m better than her.

At this point I was still trying to be nice. Why? Not sure. Maybe because it caught me off guard, that this woman ever gave me any thought at all.

I told her I had no idea what she was talking about, that I had always been nice, that I’ve never been rude to her and I had no idea who else she thought I was rude to. She, of course, conveniently wasn’t going to get into all that.

I looked at Bill totally stunned. He shrugged. He was still trying to keep it light too and told her that I do get shy and have a hard time talking to people sometimes.

I got up and walked away for a minute and the more I thought about it, the more pissed I got. I had no idea how I suddenly became the bad guy.

I came back and sat down and asked Bill what the fuck that was about. I was muttering to him that she was out of line and again, WTF?

She shouts from over her table that she can hear me, which was sort of the point I guess, and I tell her I don’t give a shit. I told her SHE was rude and out of line and I didn’t need to put up with that.

At that point her husband stands up and declares that they “don’t have to take this”—as if they were the victims—and they left.

I got up and walked into the parking lot to cool off.

When one of my friends came over to check on me, I promptly lost it and started to cry. Full body-wracking sobs. And I couldn’t stop.

Bill came around to see how I was and was surprised that I let this woman affect me so much. But I was embarrased. Not only because I felt ambushed by a clearly unhappy woman, but because it happened in front of a group of my friends. And because I wish I probably handled it differently. And I wish she did to.

I would have been much more responsive if she walked over and sat at my table and calmly asked my if there were issues. But she chose to attack me in front of everyone. And although I don’t really give a shit what she thinks of me, it concerns me that other people think I’m rude.

That pretty much ended the night. Everyone left to go home.

I felt horrible that my friend’s birthday ended on that note.

I am pissed that I was attacked without provocation.

And frankly, that fucking cow owes me a public apology.

And more importantly, she owes the birthday girl an apology.

Filed Under: Apropos of Absolutely Nothing, Life, Rants & Raves, Rude, Uniquely L.A.

So I Think I'm A Bad Daughter…

August 7, 2009 By Mo 7 Comments

…and I feel guilty about it but I can’t seem to help myself sometimes.

A couple of years ago when I switched jobs, I gave my parents my new work number but I told them not to call it unless it was important.

The job switch gave me a good excuse because I now share an office and I have a schedule and a job that has people in and out of here all day long. I don’t have the time to chat all day and I don’t want everyone in my business anyway.

This offends my mother to her very core.

In my last job I had my own office and she knew it, so she’d call to yack about nothing. If I had time, I’d pick up and talk for a bit, but then she started to take advantage. She’d call up and when I had to interrupt her to take another call—a WORK call, no less—or if someone came in and I had to put her on hold, or god forbid, call her back, she’d get pissy about it. If I didn’t call her back in the time she felt I should have been able to, she’d call and leave snippy messages on my voice mail: “Where ARE you? I thought you’d call back by now.”

She got so aggressive about it that when I’d tell her, “Mom, I have to go” (because my boss was standing in the door or something) she’d pause and say, “Mmhm. So anyway…” And launch right back into whatever she was talking about. I’d try (gently) to interrupt her but she pretended she didn’t hear me.

A few times I just hung up on her midsentence.

Was it mean? Absolutely. But she was disrespectful too. She didn’t care that I wasn’t being paid to talk to her all day. She called to talk, and talk she was going to do.

Since I don’t call her during the day now, I try to call my parents a few nights a week on my way home. This has worked out well because I can usually get them both on the phone at the same time and don’t have to repeat or clarify anything in a second conversation later. And there’s a set end point. The 30-minute drive is over and I have to get inside to take care of the dog and see my husband. Now, my dad is totally cool with this, by the way. By the time I’m driving home from work, they’re finishing dinner and watching Letterman and Jimmy Fallon from the night before. My dad wants to catch up on his Tivo. He gets on the phone, says what he wants to say and gets off the phone. He’s not offended at all. (My mom is NOT a say and it and get off the phone type by any stretch of the imagination.)

About an hour ago my cell phone rang. It was my mom, which is unusual during the day, so I automatically assume something must be wrong. My dad is 80 and my mom is 76, so I feel like when they call at unusual times, it’s THE CALL. Which makes me feel shittier about this whole situation.

I pick up and immediately ask what’s wrong. My mom’s voice is tight but she says everything is fine. “Are you sure?” I asked. She assured me that everything was fine.

“So why does it sound like it’s not?”

“You didn’t call last night.”

“Whaaa?”

“You didn’t call on your way home last night.”

“I didn’t realize I was on a schedule.”

“You usually call on Monday, Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Okay, that was news to me. Frankly, last night I wanted to put the top down, blast some music and just drive. I’m entitled. I had a long week and was tired but I feel guilty now because I didn’t call. Because it was Thursday. And I always call on Thursday.

Here’s the thing I wrestle with. I know my parents are getting older, and the more they age, the more they hold on. I know there will be a day, a day not that long from now, when I wish my mother was around to call me, to check in. There will be a day when I will miss her calling me up to nag me about something. Like I’m 4 and not almost 40. I know all of this. But I can’t help but feel annoyed.

My mom has a ton of friends. She’s active with card groups and golf and she volunteers and goes out to lunch with friends. But she seems lonely to me. And she seems to expect me to supply something that I just don’t know how to give her sometimes. And it simultaneously makes me angry and breaks my heart.

This isn’t a post about bashing my mother. I really am frustrated and don’t know how to handle this with her. I’ve tried to talk to her but I don’t know if she understands it. My grandmother (her mom) had already passed away by the time my mom was my age, and I don’t have kids, so I’m sure there’s a correlation to all of that.

I’m really trying to be patient, and I’m trying so hard not to be frustrated, but sometimes it’s all I can do to swallow my irritation.

I feel like a bad daugher.

Filed Under: Family, Getting Old Sucks, Life

Heavy Breather

August 4, 2009 By Mo 9 Comments

Gracie is a heavy breather. Her favorite thing to do is get about an inch from my face in the middle of the night and just breathe on me. She’s like that crank caller that just breathes into the phone.