(no subject)
So most of the time, I like tutoring. I set my own hours, the money is good, I like my kids, and I actually kinda enjoy the SAT.
But then there are days like Tuesday, where I vow I'm going to quit the whole racket and get a job that doesn't involve tiny dogs. Because here's what I've discovered about the very wealthy people I tutor - the vast majority of them own teeny, tiny, yappy dogs. And on Tuesday, I was greeted not by my student, but by two absurdly small Yorkshire terriers. I squeezed my way through the front gate, swinging it shut behind me to keep the dogs from escaping. I sat outside the house for fifteen minutes, ten total pounds of dog yipping and jumping at my shins. When it became clear my tutee had missed his appointment, I bade farewell to the dogs and headed for the gate.
Realizing I represented his last chance for freedom, one of the dogs made a break for it, dashing between my feet, down the driveway, and across the street to a neighbor's yard, where a fat and lazy squirrel was nibbling the grass. "Snickers!" I screamed, throwing down my bag and running - well, hobbling - in heels towards the dog, praying that was actually its name. "SNICKERS!" Tiny dog and massive squirrel stared at each other, then at me; the rodent made a slow break for it, and the canine made a move towards the open garden gate of another house. I could see the entire scene playing out in my head: the dog ending up in someone else's backyard, mauled by an angry cat or pigeon or anything, really, weighing more than about six pounds. As much as I wanted to - as frustrated as I was - I couldn't leave this stupid dog loose.
So I went left. Snickers went right. I went right, and the dog, apparently wowed by my lightning-quick reflexes, amazingly stood still. I scooped him up by his sparkly pink collar, and Snickers went into paroxysms of delight. Fresh air and a squirrel chase and a ride in someone's arms? This was clearly the most excitement this little animal had had in a very long time!
Which explains why he then peed on me.
I'm starting to think that maybe I don't charge enough for my services. There are certain jobs - OK, one - where getting peed on jacks up the rate pretty significantly, right? Let's add tutoring to that list.
But then there are days like Tuesday, where I vow I'm going to quit the whole racket and get a job that doesn't involve tiny dogs. Because here's what I've discovered about the very wealthy people I tutor - the vast majority of them own teeny, tiny, yappy dogs. And on Tuesday, I was greeted not by my student, but by two absurdly small Yorkshire terriers. I squeezed my way through the front gate, swinging it shut behind me to keep the dogs from escaping. I sat outside the house for fifteen minutes, ten total pounds of dog yipping and jumping at my shins. When it became clear my tutee had missed his appointment, I bade farewell to the dogs and headed for the gate.
Realizing I represented his last chance for freedom, one of the dogs made a break for it, dashing between my feet, down the driveway, and across the street to a neighbor's yard, where a fat and lazy squirrel was nibbling the grass. "Snickers!" I screamed, throwing down my bag and running - well, hobbling - in heels towards the dog, praying that was actually its name. "SNICKERS!" Tiny dog and massive squirrel stared at each other, then at me; the rodent made a slow break for it, and the canine made a move towards the open garden gate of another house. I could see the entire scene playing out in my head: the dog ending up in someone else's backyard, mauled by an angry cat or pigeon or anything, really, weighing more than about six pounds. As much as I wanted to - as frustrated as I was - I couldn't leave this stupid dog loose.
So I went left. Snickers went right. I went right, and the dog, apparently wowed by my lightning-quick reflexes, amazingly stood still. I scooped him up by his sparkly pink collar, and Snickers went into paroxysms of delight. Fresh air and a squirrel chase and a ride in someone's arms? This was clearly the most excitement this little animal had had in a very long time!
Which explains why he then peed on me.
I'm starting to think that maybe I don't charge enough for my services. There are certain jobs - OK, one - where getting peed on jacks up the rate pretty significantly, right? Let's add tutoring to that list.