Work Rage
After a lovely vaccation with Vince - including the local science centre, mummy exhibit, lotsa movies, and SKYDIVING! ( as a birthday gift. VIdeo to come along with Vince's trip report. Best boyfriend EVAR!). Anyways, the wonderful, fuzzy copulating dogs of bliss met the bucket of cold water flung by work as soon as I got home . Suite 33. OOoooh, suite 33. The bane of my existance, was finally nearing completion. over the three year rennovation period, it has had plumbing problems, word warping, floor unevenness, and pretty much everything that was possible to go wrong during rennovation. It was an easy job by the time I got there, but efforts were gravely inhibited by my father. He insists on working on a knee with a torn miniscus. Consequently, moving anything heavy - he insists on "helping" by being part of any heavy moving attempts - which slowed down the process considerably and exacerbated the knee....
Anyways, it wasn't that so much as it was his temper tantrums whenever anything went wrong - Cameron did a beautiful diamond style tiling job in the bathroom. Dad wanted to do the same, but didn't have the same skill with the porcelin as my brother. Whenever anything would break or misalign, he would throw a serious fit - running around screaming how we'd never get done on time, occasionally breaking the tile he was working on in disgust. I found it more fitting to a five year old than a late-sixty year old, eating more time out of our limited schedule.
Anywyas, to compensate for this, I decided to stay behind one night and do the "shit jobs". Things that take a lot of time, but don't really call for much skill - scraping paint off the windows after you've painted the crossbracing, scrubbing excess grout out of tles, ect. Quite honestly, I found the work went a lot more quickly and happily for me, and before I knew it, the night was over, and another work day begun I kept griding for another day and night, finally clocking out at around Saturday at 9:00 A.M. (Thank you pharmacy-grade stimulants!) After a suitible recovery coma, I thought everything was done, and we could get on with our normal schedule.
Sadly, this was not to be. Dad remained confrontational and arguementative, assigning tasks that I felt were a bit unreasonable after the both of us increased our work efforts. But whatever, dad isn't a reasonable guy. What DID piss me off was him rapping on my door yesterday, claiming he could smell weed. Now, yes, I DO occasionally indulge in it - mostly when my back or head are in a lot of pain from work/sleep dep/study. I had used some on Sunday to stop my back from feeling as if gnomes were heating skewers and shoving them into my spine, but not since then. I normally use the stuff in the bathroom, with the fan on, window open and towel underneath the door - I know some people really detest the smell, and I don't like irritating others. So, in short, there was no way he could've had so much as a hint of the stuff, at least from my suite. So I simply nodded at him, knowing that his mind was made up and no amount of arguing on my part could change it. Of course, the mind blowing part came when he informed me that if he smelled it again, he'd evict me from the apartment.
This, quite bluntly, hurt. You think after the constant threats of being fired/disowned/whatever I'd be a bit used to it, but sadly this little display of famillial love got to me. Since dad really have any problem with Dr. Greene, I could only conclude he was basically threatening me on the basis that the other tenants might be disturbed by it, which is a bit hard to comprehend, as there were no complaints. The problem is, I'm not quite sure what to do or say to someone who, based on personal observation, believes himself to be infallable. There is no recourse when dealing with my father in this manner, as he is generally convinced of the unassailabilty of his poisition. (Shrug) what can you do?
Oh, and there's other, more interesting and happy news, but I thought I might leave that detail to Vince's trip report, so...yeah, stay tuned!
Anyways, it wasn't that so much as it was his temper tantrums whenever anything went wrong - Cameron did a beautiful diamond style tiling job in the bathroom. Dad wanted to do the same, but didn't have the same skill with the porcelin as my brother. Whenever anything would break or misalign, he would throw a serious fit - running around screaming how we'd never get done on time, occasionally breaking the tile he was working on in disgust. I found it more fitting to a five year old than a late-sixty year old, eating more time out of our limited schedule.
Anywyas, to compensate for this, I decided to stay behind one night and do the "shit jobs". Things that take a lot of time, but don't really call for much skill - scraping paint off the windows after you've painted the crossbracing, scrubbing excess grout out of tles, ect. Quite honestly, I found the work went a lot more quickly and happily for me, and before I knew it, the night was over, and another work day begun I kept griding for another day and night, finally clocking out at around Saturday at 9:00 A.M. (Thank you pharmacy-grade stimulants!) After a suitible recovery coma, I thought everything was done, and we could get on with our normal schedule.
Sadly, this was not to be. Dad remained confrontational and arguementative, assigning tasks that I felt were a bit unreasonable after the both of us increased our work efforts. But whatever, dad isn't a reasonable guy. What DID piss me off was him rapping on my door yesterday, claiming he could smell weed. Now, yes, I DO occasionally indulge in it - mostly when my back or head are in a lot of pain from work/sleep dep/study. I had used some on Sunday to stop my back from feeling as if gnomes were heating skewers and shoving them into my spine, but not since then. I normally use the stuff in the bathroom, with the fan on, window open and towel underneath the door - I know some people really detest the smell, and I don't like irritating others. So, in short, there was no way he could've had so much as a hint of the stuff, at least from my suite. So I simply nodded at him, knowing that his mind was made up and no amount of arguing on my part could change it. Of course, the mind blowing part came when he informed me that if he smelled it again, he'd evict me from the apartment.
This, quite bluntly, hurt. You think after the constant threats of being fired/disowned/whatever I'd be a bit used to it, but sadly this little display of famillial love got to me. Since dad really have any problem with Dr. Greene, I could only conclude he was basically threatening me on the basis that the other tenants might be disturbed by it, which is a bit hard to comprehend, as there were no complaints. The problem is, I'm not quite sure what to do or say to someone who, based on personal observation, believes himself to be infallable. There is no recourse when dealing with my father in this manner, as he is generally convinced of the unassailabilty of his poisition. (Shrug) what can you do?
Oh, and there's other, more interesting and happy news, but I thought I might leave that detail to Vince's trip report, so...yeah, stay tuned!