Finally time to post... (and rant)

Where to begin… I’ve just finished two weeks at Whiskey A GoGo, and now on to Miss Nude Canada. It’s been a pretty interesting couple of weeks, so here it is… I’ve posted a few stories below, so scroll down and keep reading.

I’m packed, frustrated, and not ready for the contest. Sunshine never bothered to pick up my pool from the bar after Miss Nude Ontario so I’m pissed off and scrambling. I know I’ll figure it out, but it is one more thing on my “To do” list. Miss Nude Canada starts in 24 hours and I don’t have a pool. Fuck!

He’s pretty, but about as mature and useful as a slinky. The level of tolerance I have right now is just slightly above homicidal. I want to scream. I want to punch something. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand that this is important to me. Instead he’s defensive, dismissive, and completely without accountability. An apology of “I’m sorry, but it’s not really my fault” doesn’t count. A statement of “It’s not a big deal, it’s just a pool, just get a new one”, isn’t helpful in November.

The plan was for me to drive down and visit him after work last night, spend a bit of time and just relax. Instead I’m staying in the city for another night. I simply had no desire to see him after our conversation…

It’s not really my problem, or my responsibility. It’s not my job to get your pool
Well when you said sure no problem I’ll pick up your pool, it became your responsibility. Now I don’t have a pool.
Well I’m sorry but I was just waiting until I wouldn’t have to make a special trip
It’s 15 minutes, and it’s been 5 weeks.
Well I went down there and no one would talk to me. I asked, but I couldn’t get any information.
When did you go to the bar?
Not too long ago, they wouldn’t talk to me.
You went to the club at midnight on a Saturday night to ask about a POOL!?!
Yes.
(rolling eyes, and shaking head- not the brightest crayon in the box)
Of course they wouldn’t talk to you. Midnight on a Saturday!
Well I tried. It’s not my problem really.
Obviously not!
It’s not my job to get your pool. I don’t work for you. What are you going to do? Fire me?

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Um… Yes actually you stupid kid. Consider yourself fired. My actual words were slightly more civil… but not by much. I think I ended the conversation with “I have to pack.” Click.

Now while most of the world might not realize the importance of this pool I’m going to change a few words. Let’s change stripper to sales rep, pool to report and contest to promotion.

Get it?

I’m sitting in a coffee shop trying to catch up on my life. With a great deal of effort I’ve managed to remain somewhat civil to Sunshine throughout the day. He’s driving up to Toronto to drop off my bubble machine, but he’s lost. My phone rings and I’m already irritated. He’s whining. He doesn’t know where he is, and he doesn’t know where he’s going. My sharp response does nothing to defuse the tension. My voice is patronizing, and short. I remind him that I gave him a map book, he’s not a child, and I do just fine with a rental car and a map… maybe he should figure it out. I’m not helping, and I don’t care. I can’t remember the last time I dealt with such immaturity. It’s repulsive. Besides, he’s already fired.

After a few more arguments on the phone, and him wanting me to come find him, he finally stops bitching and follows my directions. I’m busy. I have a hell of a lot of stuff to get done today, and he can damn well drive another 10 minutes to the coffee shop. I’m not feeling very compassionate today.

I see his car pull into the parking lot, and ignore it. He struts arrogantly into the shop and drops a box at my feet. “Here.” He pronounces self-righteously, as though he’s going out of his way to do me a favour. “Thanks” is my brief reply before he turns and walks out.

I guess that’s done. Next!

I still need a pool.