I work at a video store, which baffles me, because why the hell do video stores still exist? What baffles me even more, however, is the clientele. On a typical day, the customers are 75% senior citizens. They are usually fine, but then there are the times when the few come in who are, for lack of a better word, sons of bitches. Today, one such customer came in, and wouldn't you know it, came to my register to complain.
"My movie didn't play, and it was terrible. Actually they were both terrible."
Excuse me? Which is it bitch? Was the movie terrible? Did it not play? This woman, a terrible little horror, would not rescind on her lies. She looked at me, expectantly, as though I should have given her all her cash back that she ever spent on anything dissapointing in her miserable little life. I smiled, and asked what it was she wanted from me.
"I want my money back."
The thing about people who are obviously lying is that they will not back down, especially when they are elderly and there is money involved. I spoke with my manager after she left the counter to look for another movie, and he basically said she could go fuck herself.
When she came back up, she demanded her movies for free. I told her I could do one, but not two, as my authority didn't quite stretch that far. She told me it did.
ME: I'm so sorry, but I just don't have the authority to do that.
HER: Yes you do.
According to this annoying little lunatic, by just telling someone they have the authority to give you something for free, they magically do. Why this lady didn't give me the authority to dropkick her in the kisser is beyond me.
Our conversation went on like this for a while, her telling me I should give her the movies for free, and me telling her to go join Netflix. It ended with me telling her I would put a note on her account, alerting the next unfortunate soul who has to deal with her to give her a free movie. The note basically says she is an insane person.
Are all elderly people like this? No, but for those who are, just know this: when you are in front of any salesperson or waiter, demanding that refund or new meal-only two words are passing through our heads, "GODDAM SONOFABITCH.
-Kat
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Hello Neighbor
Last week, I visited Grandma, and as I was getting ready to leave, she asked me if I would be able to cut the nails on her right hand. "I can do the left one, I just need the right one done." I cringed and agreed to do it. I am always afraid that I will cut Grandma's nail too low and blood will gush everywhere. I figured she had this fear too, as it has been so very long since she requested I cut her nails. Just as I was about to get the bowl of warm water for Grandma to soak her hand in pre-trimming, my mother came in with one of Grandma's neighbors, "Jane." Jane is Dorothy Zbornak minus the humor and feminity. She is a very tall lady who I've seen more than once in overalls, so I believe she must have a playful side, but I could be wrong in that assumption. In fact, I'm pretty sure I am. My mother announces, "Jane wanted to say hi, Mother."
"Oh, hello," my grandmother seems less than pleased to have company. My mother and my grandmother have actally known Jane long before Grandma was living across the hall, as their families went to the same church. Jane is about 12 years younger than Grandma, and claims herself to be "very active, and not around the apartment that much because she is always out doing something, like volunteering." I don't know how true this is because I see her around quite a bit, but maybe it's between her appointments. We hear a bird whistle. A sound I always hear at Grandma's. "That must be the parrot that belongs to the people downstairs," my mom says.
"That bird has a filthy mouth," Jane responds.
"Really?" My mother asks, fairly surprised.
"Oh, yeah. It's always 'effin-a-hole, or eff you, you old B-word' when I walk by."
I think, huh, even birds get fed up with the elderly.
"But the lady that owns, it, she's a sweet old lady, right?" My mom asks.
"She's not that sweet. Or OLD," Jane adds.
My mother and Jane talk for a little bit, while my grandmother just kind of looks on smiling, speaking up occasionally. Jane was an elementary school music teacher, and this just seems like such a perfect job for her. She reminds me of my elementary school music teachers, no humor, no warmth. I would have guessed it as her profession immediately. I can tell Grandma really wants Jane to leave. This becomes evident when she gets up to go to the bathroom. I thought for sure, she's going to blow it up in there. Nothing will clear a guest out of a small apartment as sooner than that. No fireworks in the bathroom, so when Grandma comes out she asks me if I will cut her nails now. That works, and Jane gets up to leave. Later on that night, my mother complains to me that Grandma wasn't as social with Jane as she should have been. "Asking you to cut her nails, she might as well have asked you to wipe her ass."
"Or maybe, she should just get a parrot."
-Jojo
"Oh, hello," my grandmother seems less than pleased to have company. My mother and my grandmother have actally known Jane long before Grandma was living across the hall, as their families went to the same church. Jane is about 12 years younger than Grandma, and claims herself to be "very active, and not around the apartment that much because she is always out doing something, like volunteering." I don't know how true this is because I see her around quite a bit, but maybe it's between her appointments. We hear a bird whistle. A sound I always hear at Grandma's. "That must be the parrot that belongs to the people downstairs," my mom says.
"That bird has a filthy mouth," Jane responds.
"Really?" My mother asks, fairly surprised.
"Oh, yeah. It's always 'effin-a-hole, or eff you, you old B-word' when I walk by."
I think, huh, even birds get fed up with the elderly.
"But the lady that owns, it, she's a sweet old lady, right?" My mom asks.
"She's not that sweet. Or OLD," Jane adds.
My mother and Jane talk for a little bit, while my grandmother just kind of looks on smiling, speaking up occasionally. Jane was an elementary school music teacher, and this just seems like such a perfect job for her. She reminds me of my elementary school music teachers, no humor, no warmth. I would have guessed it as her profession immediately. I can tell Grandma really wants Jane to leave. This becomes evident when she gets up to go to the bathroom. I thought for sure, she's going to blow it up in there. Nothing will clear a guest out of a small apartment as sooner than that. No fireworks in the bathroom, so when Grandma comes out she asks me if I will cut her nails now. That works, and Jane gets up to leave. Later on that night, my mother complains to me that Grandma wasn't as social with Jane as she should have been. "Asking you to cut her nails, she might as well have asked you to wipe her ass."
"Or maybe, she should just get a parrot."
-Jojo
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Christmas: Give til it Hurts
Glad tidings to all...
It is extremely difficult to shop for a ninety year old. For Granny's birthday, I got her a set of paints I thought she might like. My thought process being: she can take up a new hobby, oh what an amazing granddaughter I am for being so considerate. That was six months ago, and the paints have never been opened.
My grandmother doesn't do much, so I thought a Christmas gift for her would be impossible. She sits in her chair all day, next to a pile of unopened hobbies we all mistakenly thought would benefit her. Here is what my grandmother does in lieu of these hobbies:
-schedules doctor's appointments
-tells us to do things for her
-schedules doctor's appointments
-repeat
Suddenly, the perfect gift hit me: a lapdesk. This will make all of the things she does just that much easier! So basically, I am making writing easier for my grandma. Now, she will basically put forth absolutely no effort into anything! AND it goes perfctly with the Wizard of Oz calander Joanna got her. So she can make annoying, pointless appointments with doctors she doesn't need to see, and that we have to bring her to-we just made all that easier. FUCK.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!
-Kat
It is extremely difficult to shop for a ninety year old. For Granny's birthday, I got her a set of paints I thought she might like. My thought process being: she can take up a new hobby, oh what an amazing granddaughter I am for being so considerate. That was six months ago, and the paints have never been opened.
My grandmother doesn't do much, so I thought a Christmas gift for her would be impossible. She sits in her chair all day, next to a pile of unopened hobbies we all mistakenly thought would benefit her. Here is what my grandmother does in lieu of these hobbies:
-schedules doctor's appointments
-tells us to do things for her
-schedules doctor's appointments
-repeat
Suddenly, the perfect gift hit me: a lapdesk. This will make all of the things she does just that much easier! So basically, I am making writing easier for my grandma. Now, she will basically put forth absolutely no effort into anything! AND it goes perfctly with the Wizard of Oz calander Joanna got her. So she can make annoying, pointless appointments with doctors she doesn't need to see, and that we have to bring her to-we just made all that easier. FUCK.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!
-Kat
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Kohl's Spell
Yesterday Joanna and I took granny to Kohl's so she could buy Christmas Cards. We had psyched ourselves up for this activity by doing all those things people do to prepare themselves for an afternoon of tedium and torture. Basically, we sat in Joanna's car and burned ourselves with cigarettes while listening to Billie Holiday.
It's a weird phenomenon, going to Kohl's with Alice. She is a sweet old grandmother before we get there, Hell on Wheels in the store, and then sweet again. It's psychopathic.
In the parking lot, use of a wheelchair is discussed. We decide it best to get one, and upon returning to the car with it, load her in. As we venture through Kohl's with Alice, wheeling her from place to place, a change takes place; a metamorphosis so astounding it would put the Incredible Hulk to shame. She starts to yell at us, saying that we are moving her too fast. She gets nasty, and puts her head in her hands like she is dealing with two bumbling idiots (us), when we are just trying to help her.
I am reminded at these moments of what my good friend Brian tells me about his mother. She is a lunatic who also, at the youngish age of 62 needs the assistence of a wheelchair, and who whines and complains when it is not being handled correctly.
"Sometimes," he says. "I swear to God, I get that urge to roll her down a flight of stairs, like in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. I don't do it, but I notice myself almost moving her fast on purpose. It's sick, I know."
No, Brian, it's not sick, it's natural. We as caretakers get a sociopathic thrill when it comes to control and perhaps controlling somebody who has made us feel that we have NO control over ANY situation. Now, I'm not saying we should all be throwing granny off a cliff, but there is that sick thrill that we should know EVERYBODY gets now and again. We are sorry for it, of course-but it's there.
After Kohl's, in the car, my grandmother is sweet as pie again. I then hope to God he forgives me for those evil thoughts I had while pushing Alice through the bra aisle. I just wonder-what black magic is it that Kohl's has? Or is it the twenty-somethings allergy to helping others? Let's hope it is all Kohl's fault, because I just can't deal with that type of guilt.
-Kat
It's a weird phenomenon, going to Kohl's with Alice. She is a sweet old grandmother before we get there, Hell on Wheels in the store, and then sweet again. It's psychopathic.
In the parking lot, use of a wheelchair is discussed. We decide it best to get one, and upon returning to the car with it, load her in. As we venture through Kohl's with Alice, wheeling her from place to place, a change takes place; a metamorphosis so astounding it would put the Incredible Hulk to shame. She starts to yell at us, saying that we are moving her too fast. She gets nasty, and puts her head in her hands like she is dealing with two bumbling idiots (us), when we are just trying to help her.
I am reminded at these moments of what my good friend Brian tells me about his mother. She is a lunatic who also, at the youngish age of 62 needs the assistence of a wheelchair, and who whines and complains when it is not being handled correctly.
"Sometimes," he says. "I swear to God, I get that urge to roll her down a flight of stairs, like in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. I don't do it, but I notice myself almost moving her fast on purpose. It's sick, I know."
No, Brian, it's not sick, it's natural. We as caretakers get a sociopathic thrill when it comes to control and perhaps controlling somebody who has made us feel that we have NO control over ANY situation. Now, I'm not saying we should all be throwing granny off a cliff, but there is that sick thrill that we should know EVERYBODY gets now and again. We are sorry for it, of course-but it's there.
After Kohl's, in the car, my grandmother is sweet as pie again. I then hope to God he forgives me for those evil thoughts I had while pushing Alice through the bra aisle. I just wonder-what black magic is it that Kohl's has? Or is it the twenty-somethings allergy to helping others? Let's hope it is all Kohl's fault, because I just can't deal with that type of guilt.
-Kat
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Not Really Anything to Do With This But...
I did my grandmother's shopping today, which was totally fine, but I noticed, while in Stop & Shop, they were playing that song that Buffalo Bill dances to in Silence of the Lambs. This doesn't have anything to do with Granny, it was just weird. That song just doesn't fit in a grocery store.
-Kat
-Kat
Monday, November 21, 2011
The Asshole Award
My sister and I were planning on doing our grandmother's shopping today. Of course, when we called Alice to tell her we were coming over, she said that she hadn't even thought about her grocery list yet. Joanna and I got very irritated over this fact..."What ELSE is she doing?" we both said, huffing and puffing in the car. We decided to still go over and visit with our grandmother, who used pretty much the entire visit hemming and hawing over if maybe she ACTUALLY DID want us to pick some things up for her. We all decided against it, instead choosing to watch "The Real Housewives of Atlanta." The thing was, when we were leaving, my grandmother says:
"Wait...do you need money?"
I felt like an asshole because now I am painfully aware that our grandmother probably thinks the only reason we ever go to see her is to get money. This simply is not true. I visit my grandmother a lot with my mother, and Joanna visits her a lot on her own time. It just so happens that usuall,y when Joanna and I are together visitng our grandmother, it is to take her to an appointment or do her shopping, and our grandmother will usually pay us for gas or what have you. Her offering up money today, however, for a visit? It made me feel awful, I instantly felt bad about talking shit in the car, even though it was out of aggrevation. I guess it kinda makes Joanna and I look like granny hookers. "$50 bucks for your laundry, $100 to sit and chat, and 60% goes to T-Dog."
-Kat
"Wait...do you need money?"
I felt like an asshole because now I am painfully aware that our grandmother probably thinks the only reason we ever go to see her is to get money. This simply is not true. I visit my grandmother a lot with my mother, and Joanna visits her a lot on her own time. It just so happens that usuall,y when Joanna and I are together visitng our grandmother, it is to take her to an appointment or do her shopping, and our grandmother will usually pay us for gas or what have you. Her offering up money today, however, for a visit? It made me feel awful, I instantly felt bad about talking shit in the car, even though it was out of aggrevation. I guess it kinda makes Joanna and I look like granny hookers. "$50 bucks for your laundry, $100 to sit and chat, and 60% goes to T-Dog."
-Kat
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Grandma Equation
My sister yells at me sometimes because she says I get too impatient with our grandmother. I yell at her about the same thing. I lecture her about the importance of just saying “no” when it comes to some of our grandmother’s more ridiculous demands. Joanna handles my grandmother a little differently than I do though. Like, right now, Joanna is currently going to school for graphic design, and interning at a graphic design firm. My grandmother will call asking for a favor of some kind, and Joanna will behave the exact same way each and every time. Basically, she will huff and puff, and look extremely put out, but eventually, and very begrudgingly do whatever it was she was asked to do. I tell her this will just end up building resentment and she should just say no when she can’t do something. She tells me to go fuck myself.
The reason for our differences, I am told, is because Joanna had a much different “grandma” experience than I did. Her memories are of staying up late on Saturday nights, watching 227 and Saturday Night Live. I don’t think my grandmother ever let me stay up late to watch SNL. I vividly remember once, when both me and my sister were sleeping over, she let Joanna watch it, and not me. I was in the bedroom across the hall, listening longingly to Jennifer Aniston’s monologue.
I’m not trying to paint myself as a little Cinderella here. I realize that by the time I came around, my grandmother was a little older, and probably just didn’t feel like trying to please a bratty little kid. I guess in a really odd way, this frees me from the pull of feeling guilty if I am simply unable to do something for my grandmother. Of course, if I can do something for her, I will. Basically, it frees me from all the huffing and puffing that Joanna does.
My grandmother and I actually have an all right relationship when it comes down to it. The formulas go like this:
ME + GRANNY=GOOD
JOANNA + GRANNY=GOOD
MY MOTHER + ME + GRANNY=GOOD +/- TENSION
JOANNA + ME + GRANNY=RAGE+ANNOYANCE+HURT FEELINGS(^2)
It occurs to me that, a lot of the times, it is almost completely dependent on who you are with that will equal a good or bad time. If you are with somebody who will react to any aggravation you have with annoyance, then you are fucked. Joanna has a pretty short temper, and she will tell you that I have an anger problem, but when we aren’t together, visiting granny can be a pretty nice experience. For the record, I don’t have an anger problem. I am just one of those people out there who says things like “I’m gonna kill him” or “I’m gonna rip her head off in front of her children.” Good old facetious fun.
I don’t know why, but whenever Joanna and I go into my grandmother’s house together, I am reminded of an acting class I took. I remember the teacher; an impish, overzealous voice-over actor telling us the rules of blocking. He spent one class explaining how the way a person is positioned on stage can set the tone for the whole scene, and moreover, tells the audience which character has the power. According to him, if there are only two people in a scene, one of them always has to be more powerful than the other. I’m not sure of how this tactic would work in say, a production of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but I never did take anything this man said seriously. What I do remember him saying that really stuck with me though, was that if a person in seated, and another one is standing, then the seated person is the one with the power. It didn’t make much sense to me then, but nowadays I am beginning to understand it. Whenever Joanna and I walk into our grandmother’s house, she is always seated. We are always standing there, waiting for her next command. I also notice that when you sit down with her to have an actual conversation, the tension eases, and you start to see how silly it looks when a grown woman is standing in front of a little old one, screaming. I think this means that the power of mind over frustration lies with the person who is willing to take a seat.
-Kat
The reason for our differences, I am told, is because Joanna had a much different “grandma” experience than I did. Her memories are of staying up late on Saturday nights, watching 227 and Saturday Night Live. I don’t think my grandmother ever let me stay up late to watch SNL. I vividly remember once, when both me and my sister were sleeping over, she let Joanna watch it, and not me. I was in the bedroom across the hall, listening longingly to Jennifer Aniston’s monologue.
I’m not trying to paint myself as a little Cinderella here. I realize that by the time I came around, my grandmother was a little older, and probably just didn’t feel like trying to please a bratty little kid. I guess in a really odd way, this frees me from the pull of feeling guilty if I am simply unable to do something for my grandmother. Of course, if I can do something for her, I will. Basically, it frees me from all the huffing and puffing that Joanna does.
My grandmother and I actually have an all right relationship when it comes down to it. The formulas go like this:
ME + GRANNY=GOOD
JOANNA + GRANNY=GOOD
MY MOTHER + ME + GRANNY=GOOD +/- TENSION
JOANNA + ME + GRANNY=RAGE+ANNOYANCE+HURT FEELINGS(^2)
It occurs to me that, a lot of the times, it is almost completely dependent on who you are with that will equal a good or bad time. If you are with somebody who will react to any aggravation you have with annoyance, then you are fucked. Joanna has a pretty short temper, and she will tell you that I have an anger problem, but when we aren’t together, visiting granny can be a pretty nice experience. For the record, I don’t have an anger problem. I am just one of those people out there who says things like “I’m gonna kill him” or “I’m gonna rip her head off in front of her children.” Good old facetious fun.
I don’t know why, but whenever Joanna and I go into my grandmother’s house together, I am reminded of an acting class I took. I remember the teacher; an impish, overzealous voice-over actor telling us the rules of blocking. He spent one class explaining how the way a person is positioned on stage can set the tone for the whole scene, and moreover, tells the audience which character has the power. According to him, if there are only two people in a scene, one of them always has to be more powerful than the other. I’m not sure of how this tactic would work in say, a production of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but I never did take anything this man said seriously. What I do remember him saying that really stuck with me though, was that if a person in seated, and another one is standing, then the seated person is the one with the power. It didn’t make much sense to me then, but nowadays I am beginning to understand it. Whenever Joanna and I walk into our grandmother’s house, she is always seated. We are always standing there, waiting for her next command. I also notice that when you sit down with her to have an actual conversation, the tension eases, and you start to see how silly it looks when a grown woman is standing in front of a little old one, screaming. I think this means that the power of mind over frustration lies with the person who is willing to take a seat.
-Kat
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