My Life As a Portuguese Chambermaid

I’m in a complaining sort of mood today, so I thought I might take a little time to document my complaints (just in case I want to revisit them later).

Oh my god. I cannot stand it when people make non-issues into ‘things.’ I’m generally an easy-going, non-confrontational/wussy sort of person, but throw me into a situation where someone’s making something out of nothing, and I can’t take it. Normally, I try to say as little as possible when this happens so that I don’t give myself away, but typically this just results in a stony silence.

I find that stony silences make people uncomfortable, which forces me to feel guilty for being a jerk and making someone feel bad, which makes me angry for feeling guilty about being annoyed by how annoying that person is, which then … Okay. I’d better stop.

Here’s a specific example.

This occurred while out to lunch with several co-workers at T.G.I. Friday’s.

“… and that’s why she moved to Kansas,” I yelped laughing as I wrapped up a terrific story that I’ll save for another blog post.

The people across from me were busy chuckling at the hilarity when I suddenly felt the chair next to me scrape across the floor and collide with my own. I glanced to my right to look at Cheryl. She had turned to gaze in terror at the window behind her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“B,” she muttered distractedly.

“Huh?”

“I think I saw a bee on the window.”

I looked. Besides a dead fly lying on the ground I couldn’t see anything amiss.

“It must have flown away.”

“We should go,” she announced.

Everyone was finished eating, but the check hadn’t arrived.

“Are you allergic?”

“I’m pretty sure that I am,” she stated in a tone that was subtly underscored with pleasure.

“What does ‘pretty sure’ mean?”

“Well … I’ve never actually been stung.”

Several people at the table asked, “… but?”

“But,” she paused for dramatic effect, “my mother told me that I should stay away from bees because I might be allergic to them.”

“Is your mother allergic?”

“No.”

“Do bee allergies run in your family?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Than why would you assume that you’re allergic?”

“Because. I could be, and bee allergies are incredibly dangerous. We need to leave. Now.”

“We have to get the check first,” somebody told her.

“Alright,” she said, “I’ll wait outside in case it comes back.”

At that point I swore off speaking for the rest of the lunch. Then, in order to appease her, everyone scooted tightly against the table so she could get out and escape outdoors into a bee-free environment.

Here’s another one that I’m currently in the midst of.

There’s a guy I met while working at one of my first jobs out of college. He wasn’t in my department, but assisted with the testing for one of my projects. His name is Jerry, and he’d been with the company for over thirty years. When we initially met, he didn’t want to perform the testing that was required for the project. Not for any business reason, but because it was tedious, and he didn’t feel like it.

“You could delegate it,” I said trying to be helpful.

He shifted from one foot to the other and ran his hand through his hair.

“To who?!”

“It’ll have to be somebody you work with. Somebody who’d have access to your information.”

“Nobody else is going to want to do this!”

“I’m sorry, Jerry … if you can provide me with a business reason that’d enable us to justify not doing it, we can discuss it, but … you can’t just not do it.”

“Well … No … Seriously, no … this is going to take hours,” he stuttered.

“I’m really sorry. I’m honestly not trying to pick on you or anything like that.”

He stood there glaring at me for several seconds having run out of arguments. Then suddenly.

“What’s wrong with your hair?” he blurted out angrily.

I burst out laughing, because despite the unprofessionalism, his point was valid. My hair has a tendency to fall down and look ridiculous by the end of most work days.

“Wow,” I said still cracking up, “that was a cheap shot.”

Oddly, this exchange cemented our friendship, and we’ve kept in touch over email even though I’ve since left the company. So, the other day, he emails me to ask if my father could suggest a solvent that would clean rust and corrosion off his aluminum siding.

He’s never met my father. My father lives in Alabama. So, I asked Jerry why he would want my father’s input, and he said it was because my dad owns a hardware store. At the time I wondered why he didn’t just go into a local hardware store and ask somebody there. But, then I realized Jerry was probably just using his quandary as an excuse to say ‘hello.'

So I emailed my father the question and cc’d Jerry. Two weeks later my father still hadn’t responded. During this time, Jerry emailed me daily, and then began to call to ask if my father had come up with an answer yet.

“Not yet. You know, Jerry,” I said, “ my dad doesn’t own any structures with aluminum siding. So maybe he’s just not sure what to suggest? Maybe you should just ask somebody at your hardware store.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Jerry responded.

A day later I called my dad to ask him to respond to the email as soon as possible. He swore that he would, but still hasn’t. Since then, Jerry’s started calling me a few times a day to ask if I’ve heard anything, and my patience is rapidly diminishing. Yesterday, I emailed Jerry a link to a product I found by googling ‘aluminum siding rust corrosion.’ He emailed back to ask if this was what my father had suggested, and I confessed that I’d found it by searching the Internet. He said he’d wait until I hear back from my father.

At this point I’m seriously contemplating moving to Portugal, changing my name and starting over as a Portuguese chambermaid.

Geez.

- my attitude today rEEKs