Straw, Meet Camel's Back
My favorite aunt is dying.
She has had cancer for a number of years, but it has spread all over her body and she is slowly dying. She is still as upbeat as ever, and still behaves as though she is going to recover. I'll be taking a few days off of work to take Stinky down to go visit her. She keeps looking at all of the myriad Facebook albums and saying that she has to come visit the baby, but a plane trip would kill her, so we are going to go down for a few days. We had originally intended to wait until after the election to do this, but Mommie Dearest called me a couple of weeks ago and suggested that we do it sooner.
Getting the time off was a gigantic pain in the ass from the standpoint of a boss who is seemingly devoid of empathy, nevermind the fact that when her father was ailing and dying last winter, it was not a problem for her to drop everything and go to him. I had to jump through hoops, and this morning's were the worst of all.
September 3: I sit in her office and tell her that I have a family emergency and have to go down to Trinidad for a few days. Her immediate response? You know, Joanne, I'm under strict orders not to let anyone have time off after Labor Day. I counter with a statement that I was going to be going to visit my aunt and would like to know when the best time for this would be? Lady, let's get something straight here. I'm not asking you for the time off, but am letting you know that I will be out of the office for three days. Your alternative is to have me call in sick three days running, so pick your poison. We hammer out an agreement, based partly in fact that she herself was going to be attending a wedding (!) and was going to be out of the office for two days. I emphasize the fact that my aunt is dying and I would like to have my daughter meet her before she leaves us for good. My coworkers disbelieve the extent of this craziness, but wait, there's more.
September 6: She comes into my office and tells me that my trip has been approved (insert eye-rolling here) but I have to know that this is an exception. It's very rare, she states, that anyone is allowed to do this, but she really wants Gabby to meet the family. I thank her nicely and mentally call her some very foul names. She is behaving as though I am asking to go on a fucking vacation. But wait, there is still more.
Between then and today, I run around, make travel arrangements, get a quickie passport for the baby, arrange for diapers, a playpen, and a carseat at the other end, all whole planning the baby's baptism...
Today: We have a weekly managers' meeting in the department, and I open by stating that I would be gone for three days next week. She says, oh, you're going to have such a great time. I am flummoxed by this because I was under the impression that the circumstances were less than ideal, so it takes me a minute for my brain to process this. Tell everyone where you're going, she says excitedly. To Trinidad for a few days, I respond, still puzzled. She says again, you're going to have a great time, and the baby gets to meet your whole family, you deserve it. My brain starts to wake up. I wish it were under different circumstances, I stutter. At this point, our analyst steps in and says, wait, aren't you visiting an ailing family member? Oh, I had forgotten about that, the clueless nitwit, says.
I need a drink, but she is not worth the hangover. I'll channel my energies into cleaning the house instead.
She has had cancer for a number of years, but it has spread all over her body and she is slowly dying. She is still as upbeat as ever, and still behaves as though she is going to recover. I'll be taking a few days off of work to take Stinky down to go visit her. She keeps looking at all of the myriad Facebook albums and saying that she has to come visit the baby, but a plane trip would kill her, so we are going to go down for a few days. We had originally intended to wait until after the election to do this, but Mommie Dearest called me a couple of weeks ago and suggested that we do it sooner.
Getting the time off was a gigantic pain in the ass from the standpoint of a boss who is seemingly devoid of empathy, nevermind the fact that when her father was ailing and dying last winter, it was not a problem for her to drop everything and go to him. I had to jump through hoops, and this morning's were the worst of all.
September 3: I sit in her office and tell her that I have a family emergency and have to go down to Trinidad for a few days. Her immediate response? You know, Joanne, I'm under strict orders not to let anyone have time off after Labor Day. I counter with a statement that I was going to be going to visit my aunt and would like to know when the best time for this would be? Lady, let's get something straight here. I'm not asking you for the time off, but am letting you know that I will be out of the office for three days. Your alternative is to have me call in sick three days running, so pick your poison. We hammer out an agreement, based partly in fact that she herself was going to be attending a wedding (!) and was going to be out of the office for two days. I emphasize the fact that my aunt is dying and I would like to have my daughter meet her before she leaves us for good. My coworkers disbelieve the extent of this craziness, but wait, there's more.
September 6: She comes into my office and tells me that my trip has been approved (insert eye-rolling here) but I have to know that this is an exception. It's very rare, she states, that anyone is allowed to do this, but she really wants Gabby to meet the family. I thank her nicely and mentally call her some very foul names. She is behaving as though I am asking to go on a fucking vacation. But wait, there is still more.
Between then and today, I run around, make travel arrangements, get a quickie passport for the baby, arrange for diapers, a playpen, and a carseat at the other end, all whole planning the baby's baptism...
Today: We have a weekly managers' meeting in the department, and I open by stating that I would be gone for three days next week. She says, oh, you're going to have such a great time. I am flummoxed by this because I was under the impression that the circumstances were less than ideal, so it takes me a minute for my brain to process this. Tell everyone where you're going, she says excitedly. To Trinidad for a few days, I respond, still puzzled. She says again, you're going to have a great time, and the baby gets to meet your whole family, you deserve it. My brain starts to wake up. I wish it were under different circumstances, I stutter. At this point, our analyst steps in and says, wait, aren't you visiting an ailing family member? Oh, I had forgotten about that, the clueless nitwit, says.
I need a drink, but she is not worth the hangover. I'll channel my energies into cleaning the house instead.