Skip to content

My head just hurts.

January 25, 2008

Thank God for the fact that my parents raised me to be able to take care of myself. Apparently, my roommate’s parents didn’t extend the same courtesy to her.

After getting fired from her job on Sunday (an incident happened where everyone involved was let go), I selflessly got her a job at the same place I was hired on Monday. I am now kicking myself for having done that, because the whole crew probably thinks I’m just as much a moron for knowing this girl. Not to pat my own back, but I genuinely believe that the manager would not have hired her if I wouldn’t have told him I knew her.

It just makes my head hurt thinking about how much trouble this girl has being independent (although I had to withhold a guffaw when she said last night that she hates relying on other people to take care of her, when she pretty much expects everyone to hold her hand). When given her uniform the other day and told it needed to be pressed and starched by training, she told the guy that she couldn’t possibly take it to the dry cleaners to be done in time. This resulted in me (frustratedly) teaching her to iron — there I go again. I was shocked that she’s 28 years old and just learning to iron. I guess her ex used to do it for her previously.

The next morning, I helped her brush up her resume and prep for an interview with a financial services company. Well, if you could call it that. Spotty job history is more like it, but I digress. I got frustrated to the point of tears when she couldn’t understand why I wanted her to focus the resume on her sales, customer service and entrepreneurial (which she thought meant that you were a go-getter and seized the day, which I suppose, to a point, is descriptive of the personality type) background. Uhm, she’s applying to sell life insurance as an independent contractor. I would think that’s pretty self-explanatory to a normal human being.

When I told her that night that we needed to cook the chicken she thawed, she said she was going to throw it away. I said just to cook it so we didn’t waste it, as it’s not like we have a plethora of food or money coming out of our butts. She asked how we were supposed to cook it when she never got the feta cheese to go on it. Apparently, in her world, there is only one way to cook chicken. After saying, “uh, you just cook it,” and she responded with, “plain chicken? That’s gross,” I told her to just use some salt & pepper and it would be fine. I was kinda proud of her when I realized that she did just that later in the evening, and without my supervision.

Yesterday, I drew the line and just refused to keep helping her. I went to the library yesterday morning so I could actually get some work done in peace, and she called to have me help her on the personality assessment they provided her. I just said, “I can’t help you with that.” She said that she just had a question, so I told her to call the guy that recruited her for help. Apparently she did, and wasted most of his day. Better him than me for a change.

Later, she called to get advice — apparently, she’d had a rough day with the lawyers and mortgage companies and finding out that she owes a $13k property tax bill — and I refused to even talk to her. She wanted to know if I thought she should go to work because she knew she was going to fail the test that we had that day. I simply told her that she was a big girl and could make those kinds of decisions for herself. I was shocked when she showed up, but then she opened her mouth and I realized that she wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity to dump on people for the world.

The icing on the cake, though, was yesterday in bar class, when we were learning the garnishes for various drinks, she thought the garnish for a mojito was “mint squid.” To which she commented, “Why would you put that in a drink? That sounds disgusting.” The collective eye-roll was priceless.

I guess I really shouldn’t complain when I enable her — I guess it’s the part of me that feels guilty that I’m living in her house for free, mixed with the other part of me that aims to please. If I could just change who I am, maybe I’d be able to better deal with this situation. Ugh.

Oh good lordy, I cannot wait to break out of here!

Advertisements

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: