Failed Relationship Mondays
Monday, Monday…
Jan 18th
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Today, I feel mostly like this:
With a little bit of this thrown in:
Yes, it took me about a half hour to figure out how to embed videos in WordPress. I’m awesome like that.
Hope everyone had a great weekend. Since it’s Failed Relationship Monday and I’ve been slacking on that one, I’m going to tell you a little bad relationship story about a man I knew when I was 19-years-old. In the interest of not using his name (though I would totally use it, if I could actually remember his last name), I’m going to call him Snake.
Failed Relationship: Snake, boss and general cretin
Age: 19
Duration of Relationship: 2 months
When I was just a young girl, I did lots of retail work. When I was about to turn 19, one of my friends told me about this great job she had gotten. I wasn’t going to go to college, you see, because I didn’t need some piece of paper to play some stupid game. I already knew I was smart. (Not smart enough to realize that playing the game is sometimes necessary, though. Especially where education is concerned.)
She was working for a new home builder, as an assistant to the sales people. So she wasn’t selling the houses herself, but she was working for the people who did. Mostly doing paperwork, but she got to show houses and all that. She worked in a model home and there were cookies AND she never had to fold anything! Sign me up.
I interviewed with a different salesperson and got the job. And then two months later, she quit. Until they found a suitable replacement, I did everything. I showed the houses, I sold the houses, I wrote the contracts. It was a lot of fun. Then they hired Snake.
He was twice my age and looked at me like I might be lunch. I rebuffed his advances, so he wasn’t very fond of me. He asked me out, I said no. He tried to sleep with me, I told him to get away from me. All of this was in addition to one of our builders making lewd comments at me and all of our female homeowners. Not really a pretty situation.
Snake got more than a little pissed off. He started giving my home and cell phone numbers to all of our subcontractors and telling them to call me, instead of the builders. I don’t know if you know how early roofers start roofing, but…it’s early. So my phones were ringing off the hook before 5am every morning. But what could I really do?
He asked me to make a flyer and then gave me two pages of information to put on it and when I couldn’t fit it all, he fired me. With no notice. Because of all of the sexual harassment from the builder, I had reported him. Mostly because he was making our homeowners incredibly uncomfortable. With a possible sexual harassment suit on their hands, the corporate office made him call me and give me my job back.
Snake was none too happy about this, so he called the other builder’s wife and suggested that I was having an affair with him and gave her all my phone numbers. For three solid weeks, I had a crazy woman calling me constantly, crying about her husband. The marriage was already in trouble, I knew, because I was actually pretty good friends with the builder. I stopped answering my phones. I really wish I had saved the messages. Wow.
I was told to give my key to one of the painters. Snake then told me to leave, that he would have the painter leave my key in a certain place, so I’d be able to find it the next morning. Of course, he didn’t do that. The next morning, I called him to tell him that I couldn’t find the key. I can’t really remember all the curse words he unloaded on me, but they were extensive. I do remember, “What kind of stupid bitch leaves without her key? I wouldn’t think I’d have to fucking tell you to get it back from the painter.”
Seriously.
So he drove to the office to bring me a key. He happened to have an extra. I suspect it was mine. Instead of handing it to me, I drove up, slowed down, and threw it at me from his car.
The next day, it was just me and Snake in the office. He cornered me in our copy room and suggested that I make nice and he would make nice. I nearly kicked him in the balls. Instead I quit. With no notice.
You see, the night before, I had purchased a locking gas cap. Which I had put on his car that morning when I got to work a few minutes after he did. I tossed the key into a field and called it a day. I knew that he always ran his tank until it was practically on empty. I heard later that he got stranded at a gas station on the way to meet a homeowner for a meeting. BEAUTIFUL.
Years later, I was working for a different builder. I went to the standard Monday morning corporate meeting and sat down at the conference table. When I looked up, my eyes met the eyes of Snake. Despite the fact that he had gotten fired from the company where we had worked together for cussing out a homeowner on a walk-through, he still managed to get a job somewhere else.
The best part? He didn’t even remember me, so he hit on me after the meeting.
Why my kindergarten* boyfriend was not the love of my life.
Dec 14th
To start your Monday morning off right, Rebecca over at Losing It in AZ came up with an awesome idea. We should all share some stories of our past failed relationships. These stories can be about any relationship: a boyfriend, your mom, your cousin, your boss, your cat…you get the picture. Obviously, you’re going to want to hop on this train, because I think if we put our heads together, we can come up with a really hilarious collection of our failures.
Failed Relationship: Josh, kindergarten boyfriend
Age: 4
Length of Relationship: Approximately 48 hours
I started kindergarten* at the ripe old age of four. As you can imagine, I was the youngest person in my class. Actually, I was pretty much the youngest person in my class until I graduated from high school. You see, my mom had to work. And, well, she needed me out of her hair. So even though I was three months past the cut-off birth date for admittance into school, she talked them in to taking me off her hands.
I was in class with my cousin Summer, who was a giant trouble maker. I bet she still is. She’s the reason I got spanked for talking at nap time. You see, I was big into rule following. I still am, actually. It’s just that now I pick and choose instead of following all rules presented to me. Life’s more fun this way. Oh, and my mom ALWAYS signed that little piece of paper saying they could spank me at school. Rude.
Anyway, in our class, there was a boy. And this boy would steal my jacket and color on my paper and eat my chapstick and drop the see-saw really hard when I was on the other end. It was love, obviously. Except, of course, that I hated him. Then one day, he gave me a Valentine. Oh, that day was Valentine’s Day. I suppose I should clear that up, so you don’t think that he was some weirdo kid making Valentines on April 12th or something.
Oh man, I was so excited. I got a Valentine!
From a boy.
Weird.
Kind of icky.
Well, maybe it could be all right, if he would stop eating my chapstick. Ass.
After that, he held my hand and we played together at recess. Somehow this still involved him stealing my jacket during tag, but I think that’s because he would always grab onto it to try to catch me, and I would unzip it and skip out of it (Yes, I totally mean skip. I was always a crappy runner, so I would skip and I could still beat most of the boys. True story.), leaving him holding my jacket and looking puzzled. Worked. Every. Time.
This is about the time I learned an important lesson. Boys are dumb.
Write that down.
About a week later, I found out that he had also given a Valentine to one of our other female classmates. What a jerk! We “broke up” and he stopped eating my chapstick (Yay!) and I refused to play tag and that, my friends, was the end of that.
*Actually, for all I know, all of this could have happened in the first, second, third, or fourth grade. Those memories are all sort of jumbled together in my mind. Except I know that in third or fourth grade I peed on myself and had to wear a borrowed Alf sweatshirt for the rest of the day. Along with borrowed pants, obviously. I didn’t manage to just pee on my torso. Wow, that was embarrassing…
