A case of the Mondays

Strokes, Rudeness and Red Tape

Images by Gilbatree Art Designer

It’s been a day.

My boss had a worse day; he had a stroke and was taken off in an ambulance before I arrived. I didn’t know anything was wrong until the neighbors told me when I was out with the dogs (the humans are often in the field before I start my day).

Or what. “surgery got the clot” is all I know now, and I found that 15 minutes before leaving work.

I’ve worked there 2 months and might be running an HVAC business now or unemployed?! Either way, yikes!

Some day I will tell you about being the only employee of a 79 year old leather supplier who was only mean and made me run his shit for bottom dollar with a side of narcicisstic abuse, during Covid.

It’s always/never my first rodeo.

I got a phone call that was probably a scam. I’ve gotten texts making a similar claim and ignore them. But there I am, at work, stunned, minding my own business, trying to reschedule appointments and answer the questions I could in email, when I answer my own phone, to some aggro woman barking at me.

Something like,

“Why do you keep texting me?”

(I rarely even touch my own phone at work or anywhere else with a computer).

“I haven’t texted anyone, who is this?”

(caller id gave a business name if I want to be a real cunt about this, the truth is, BOTH of our numbers were probably spoofed; only one of us felt the need to be nasty)

She starts bitching at me again.

“You have the wrong number.”

Click.

Block!

Easy!!

There was a time I would have ended up explaining or apologizing for something, having done nothing. Fuck that noise.

Rude! But not something I would have probably given another thought if today wasn’t so Monday-y.

After work, I saw I received an email in response to a mountain of requested documentation I sent for a grant for back rent, with a program meant to prevent youth homelessness. I sent my request with the help of a housing advisor through another organization. A grown-up with experience doing this who probably didn’t fuck it up. I was sure to cc her in my response so she can see how clients are treated.

[Anything in bold caps here was also in red, and there were 3 cashier’s checks]

[My first name]:

1. According to your current ledger, you DO NOT qualify for this program.

2. Any money orders or cashier’s checks must be submitted. The pic submitted is not legible (must be larger).

3. We await a current rental lease.

That’s it. No greeting, closing, or mistaking me for a human. The agency name signed it.

This is what is being sent to single parents facing homelessness, trying to pull together a metric shit ton of documentation before getting evicted, while caring for children (this program is for parents) and working (who can pay THIS month’s rent, and rent going forward) and usually trauma (duh).

Not gonna lie, didn’t take this one as well. One of those “missing french-fry order away from tears” moments. There are always so many stupid hoops to jump through. They don’t have to be mean too.

Excuse me for being poor due to raising 3 children with less than 1/3 of the state standard in child support for 3 years and none the 3 before? Perhaps speak to the department that also said I could not receive the revision I qualified for 3 different ways 2 years ago (that I have been working on again since April)? Did you read the bit about this being caused by domestic abuse, and probably not a reckless Sephora habit? Asking for a friend.

I wouldn’t dream of writing someone I didn’t like in such a tone. The upside to this is that my polite communication must be antagonistic to the miserable.

The thing I did do right was not to modify my response at all. I was every bit as “good evening” and “thank you for your helpy” as ever.

I’ve got some brat in me. Once a PM another coworker commented “ran like he was being chased by his own ass” (drawbacks of work sponsored swanky health club, but at least I got to see trophy wives compare boob jobs in the hot tub) told me I had too much “personality” in an email.

The problem was that as the most senior member of the team, I shared with [his pet] the admin some of the sentiments said team shared regarding the POT LUCK Christmas party our team would be getting that year, while everyone else got their fist sized prawns, drink ticket, hookers, blow and tesla coils, of yore. Just because someone doesn’t like what we say, doesn’ mean it’s wrong.

For a solid 18 months I wrote every email like a (polite) robot, closing everything with Domo Arigato until my markets (I was an International PM then) got jealous I wasn’t switching it up to their languages, and I got bored, so I did.

Do not fuck with me, lmao.

It [what the fuck were we taking about again?] aptly demonstrates the focus on looking for reasons to deny, rather than provide help. Imagine going to work, playing opposite day, and expecting to get paid for doing your job just the same. Non-profits pay very well now when they did not always. It's better than some tech jobs, which are less coy about being sweatshops now. That’s a lot of overhead not going to their stated cause.

There’s money, just not for you, you dirty pov! We’ve got a fund-raising gala to pay for, benefitting the….um, nevermind.

I interviewed at a non-profit serving the homeless and did well. They did background checks, references (I had some great and relevant ones), the whole nine, and chose another candidate. Everyone thought I had that job. It was an accounting gig paying as much as my last tech job.

I came away with the impression they were less comfortable with offering meaningful help, like employment to someone willing and competent, than greeting me as a future client.

Their loss. I get to play with spreadsheets and dogs at work. Their flickering fluorescent light, 1970s filing cabinet basement labyrinth might have been enough to depress even me.

Besides, someone hit and run me on my way to that interview. Seems like a sign. Maybe the dude that showed me his tattoo ruined it for both of us. At least he already had a job.

People with more than me have taken from me my whole life. They’ve taken from you too. We all get burned at some level by “the system”, but I’ve met married some overachievers smashing their personal goals in this respect.

Greedier people can be enticed with the promise of an easier “more.” I don’t mind hard work and I don’t really care about money beyond a tool for survival. Why would anyone? This made it pretty easy to remove from me with the appropriate manipulation.

Whoops. At least I’ll get into heaven because I have no carry on?

People pleasers can be played. The resilient, who always think someone has it worse, will often believe the “victim” who has never suffered hardship. Someone took me for $20 at a cash machine, then I bought and delivered groceries to the children she didn’t have in the motel she was never staying at.

Then I felt bad because she said (and looked like) she was pregnant and probably had a drug addiction. Sorry baby.

Then I felt dumb for being kind. Not for the first or last time, I’m sure.

While (my favorite example) Walmart is busy bankrupting the government, toxic exes are bankrupting the rest of us, maneuvering us to assist in draining the government and then blaming us for it.

I was called “greedy for child support” in legal filings [dies laughing]

Let’s roll that PROJECTOR, shall we? lol

Not to mention the embarrassingly obvious, but they all seem to really enjoy a game called privatizing gains and socializing losses, which you may have heard me mention.

The children of someone grossing $12-20k a month should not rely on EBT to eat any more than those employed by one of the richest families in the world should. It’s people with more than enough refusing to pay even their fair share.

Who should be “ashamed” of poverty?

Probably those causing it.

Imagine if empathy came as easy to some as disdain.