Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Tried and True

Cranky (Ex-)Boss Lady was involved in a freak accident about a month ago. She was talking with a friend while the friend's three large dogs were tearing around the yard when one of them barrelled into CBL from behind, knocking her over and somehow breaking her right ankle. So broken was the ankle, that she had to have a screw surgically inserted to hold everything together.

She has an adult daughter, a live-in boyfriend, and a renter who has lived in the attached apartment for so long (at such low rent) that he has become a member of their highly dysfunctional family--all of them can help her out in the late afternoons and evenings. Which leaves mornings and early afternoons during the week to me because there isn't anyone else, because I don't mind helping out--actually like to be able to help out when I can. When she called about the ankle, she said, in typical tell-don't-ask Cranky Boss Lady fashion, "I'm going to need your help with appointments and stuff." The answer would've been "yes," but I couldn't help noticing that there was no real question there.

Cranky Boss Lady is, to understate it in the extreme, a high maintenance individual under the best of circumstances and clearly a severely broken ankle does not qualify as the best of circumstances. She is unable to support herself on crutches and so is wheelchair bound and home all day with three springer spaniels.

The two male spaniels do not get along owing to having been neutered only after having gotten into numerous scraps with one another and so there is an elaborate routine that CBL has devised involving segregation and rotation of the dogs. Since she is no longer working outside the home, she has plenty of time and energy to fixate, er, focus on the "needs" of these three dogs. In addition to being rotated (one male is in the living room with CBL and the other in the sun room with the female dog and then they switch), they go outside for potty breaks every hour and a half to two hours. They have stuffed toys that are dog-specific and it's extremely important to CBL (significantly less so to the dogs) that none of the dogs plays with someone else's toy. Therefore, the hairy-stained-up-spit-encrusted toys must also be transferred from room to room at each rotation. And one of these toys, a mangled Pumba from Lion King, which makes farting and burping noises, must be dropped over the gate to land on its head so it will make noise, whether the dog is standing there to hear it or not.

I think the whole thing is completely insane, but if that's how she wants to do things, so be it. I will say, however, that even if I were the type of person to be concerned that Benny is playing with Misty's toy or to engage in a "battle of wills*" with Buddy because he's not really interested in going out at the moment since he was out an hour ago, I would make an effort to simplify the doggy routine if I was relying on another person to help me with it. I would, not, in other words, visit my insanity upon someone who is taking an hour or more out of her own day to help me.

Along with going over every weekday at 10:30 and noon to deal with the dogs, I have also taken CBL to three doctor's visits (one of these of the "emergency" last-minute variety and thirty minutes away from home); winced inwardly (and sometimes outwardly) as CBL was whining and demanding and borderline verbally abusive to office staff at these appointments; paid her cable, gas, and electric bills (in person at three different locations); picked up prescriptions for her and her son; listened to the graphic details about the bursting of her boyfriend's sebaceous cyst; purchased bandages for her boyfriend's sebaceous cyst; stopped and gotten her lunch every day--usually a ridiculously complex order from the supermarket deli, which she has never yet failed to complain about; and more, oh-so-much more.

We also went through the McDonald's drive-thru at one point and she demanded that I order her fries "straight out of the fryer," which is how she always wants her fries. When I worked with her on a daily basis at the flower shop, I told her more than once that asking for that sort of special consideration at a fast-food restaurant is just begging them to spit in your food. Still, she persisted, though to be honest, when I was tasked with picking up her lunch and bringing it back to the shop I never, not one single time, requested fries "straight from the fryer" and she was none the wiser.

This time, of course, she was in the passenger seat next to me so there was no wiggling out of it and I asked for the fries "straight from the fryer." When the bag with the chicken tenders and fries was handed out to the window to me, CBL warned, "Don't drive away yet!" Then she snatched the bag out of my hand, stuck her hand in to test the fries, declared them "warm, not hot" and ordered me to send them back. I started to pull away from the window and she yelled, "What are you doing!?"

I calmly said, "I'm going to go inside to return your fries."

She said, "I would've just banged on the window!"

I said, "I'm not going to hold up the fourteen cars behind us. I'll just go inside."

Then she proceeded to complain about the fact that I drove around the building rather than parking at the end of the drive-thru lane where I would've been partially blocking traffic. I got out of the van to go inside while she was still talking.

The punchline, of course, is that she did not actually eat the fries until we'd gotten her home and in the door and settled on the couch--so the fries were no longer straight from the fryer. Therefore, her tantrum had been completely in vain.

On that straight-out-of-the-fryer day, which was fairly early on in this whole process, Hubby had come along at CBL's insistence because she was pretty sure we would need his help getting her in and out of the vehicle (we hadn't) so he was waiting in the van while I got her settled in at home. As I was trying to get out the door, she made a heartfelt speech, getting a little teary-eyed as she told me how much she appreciated everything I was doing for her. She told me, "You are a true friend."

When I made it out the door, I recounted her speech to Hubby and said, "When she called me a true friend, I thought to myself, 'If I were really a true friend, I wouldn't be about to get into the van and start complaining about every aspect of your personality before the door was even all the way closed.'"

So, what say you, my bloggy friends? What is the measure of true friendship? In which direction does peevishness tip the scales? Precisely how much annoyance (and often (OFTEN!) bitter resentment) is required to turn generosity from something sweet to something bitter? Is it better or worse if this annoyance is expressed behind the back of rather than to the face of the annoyer? What if this behind-the-back expression feels like the only way to be kind face-to-face?

Please, my bloggy friends, share with me your insight, your wisdom, perhaps your own stories of that special someone whom you care deeply about despite actively dreading the time you spend with him or her.

Please, because it's another few days til the cast comes off and weeks (maybe months) of physical therapy after that and I need all the help I can get.



*I am standing in the sun room, holding the storm door wide and negotiating with this dog who is looking at me like I'm a complete idiot (about this he is so clearly right that it barely bears mentioning) when CBL calls from the next room, "Sometimes you've got to kind of lead him out the door. It's really a battle of wills between him and me most days." Dude, I'm no vet or doggy psychologist*, but if the dog has to be cajoled or worse dragged out the door, and he's just been out an hour ago, odds are he's not really urgently needing to go out the door.

*Though CBL did, in fact, hire a doggy psychologist to come in and evaluate the situation between the two male dogs. Naturally CBL and her boyfriend dismissed every one of the psychologist's suggestions (most of which had to do with the interhuman dynamics rather than the dog-to-dog dynamics). They were then shocked and dismayed that their $500 had gone to waste.

(Update: I'm going to "cheat" a little and use this as my TidBit Thursday post at Larissa's. Hoping to use my computer time and energy to catch up a bit more on visiting everyone else.)

25 comments:

  1. Oh good Lord...

    This is one of those one-sided "friendship" situations, isn't it.. I do wish I had some insightful wisdom to share, but forcing her into therapy or moving her to Antarctica while she can't get around doesn't seem to qualify as such..

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    1. I'm not sure how wise it would be, but I am certainly enjoying the image of her in her wheelchair drifting away on an ice floe with only the penguins to hear her blathering on...

      As to the one-sidedness, as I said to Gracie--I have no doubt that she would be there for me if I needed her, but whether I would want her to be is a whole other question. ;)

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  2. Oh no - you DO NOT want my opinion on this one. The good Christian folk out there would send me to hell RIGHT NOW bit I would not call this anything close to a friendship. So she got emotional in a moment of appreciation? That does not count for what I think borders on abuse. I wouldn't be able to maintain my end of the deal on this one. My (long ago deceased) mother in law was cranky and critical and unappreciative a good chunk of the time. I, out of respect for the fact that she was the mother of my husband, did my very best to tolerated the situation, pasting a smile on and trying always to please her. I did not confront her on any of it although my husband gently did from time to time. I never considered her my friend, only my obligation. And, yes, in a sense, she was b/c she was my husband's mother. But CBL? I don't think she deserves to be called a friend.
    You asked for thoughts and that's my immediate reaction.
    btw, the B in CBL? I dont' think it stands for boss..... :)

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    1. I'm sitting at the computer giggling a little about that last line.

      I couldn't figure out a way to shoehorn this into the original post, but when we were working together on a daily basis, I often did "call her out" on her behaviors, not just toward me but toward other people (including (I'm a nervy little broad sometimes) her own family). A lot of times it was gentle-ish reminders or teasing nudges or trying to reason with her and stuff--but sometimes I went right 'round the bend and had full-on tantrums. I hated feeling that way (and acting that way), but she did behave so much better for a while after each of my outbursts that it seemed like there was something constructive coming out of all of it. Now that I see and speak with her much less often, I'm not as invested in standing up for myself or standing up to her--it's not energy efficient. That doesn't mean she doesn't make me nuts. Obviously.

      For what it's worth, for the most part I see her behavior as sad & pathetic. I don't think she is malicious--I think she is lonely and miserable and bored. What a shame that at the age of (almost) 62, she has not yet made a (lasting) connection between the way she treats people and her loneliness and misery.

      One last thing: I have no doubt that if I needed her to run errands for me or any of that stuff, she absolutely would be there for me if she could. Whether I would WANT her to be or not is a whole other matter. ;)

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  3. PS: SO SO SO glad to see a post from you!

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    1. Glad to be back. I've missed you, Gracie. :)

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  4. First- so glad you posted!!!! I've missed you, my friend!
    Second, I truly believe that the outward kindnesses we show count as true friendship, no matter how much raging we do when we leave them.
    Sadly, I do have someone like this and it's a family member. (OK, I wasn't going to say this, but, I will, it's my mom.)She is so cranky and sometimes downright mean. The way she treats my kids sometimes infuriates me. It makes me sad, because she wasn't always that way and they don't know that she used to be a sweet, playful person. I never say anything about it because I know how she can hold a grudge and just don't want to deal with that. I'm kind to her in person, then my husband gets to deal with my rants afterward. (What would we do without those sweet men who listen to us?) Like Gracie said, I don't think I'd put up with that in a non-family member. You're a bit of a saint. Or just a really good friend.

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    1. Thanks, Jewels, I've missed you too. I'm sorry to hear about your situation with your mom. I was going to say something about the fact that the one saving grace with the CBL situation is that I'm not related to her, which means I'm technically LESS obligated to be around her, but I still feel weirdly obligated anyway--out of loyalty or charity or, or, I don't know, neurosis. :)

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  5. I think normal friendship rules go out the window when you are dealing with a "difficult personality" (is that an understatement?). You're being a true friend by voluntarily dealing with her insanity. You said there was no one else to help during the day, and that you placed yourself in the situation to help this rather bitchy person... it means you are a true friend. And if venting about it when you leave helps you to go back and do it again, then call it therapy, not complaining.

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    1. Therapy...I like the sound of that--and lord knows I can use it. :)

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  6. Relax. You're a saint. I know what you mean by wondering, though. My problem is that at some point the cognitive dissonance in these situations drives me crazy and I spew forth vitriole and then feel awful about it. I am not a good saint. I try, but I am lousy at it.

    On the other hand, I believe that difficult people need help in this world, too, and that most of them are not difficult by design. I think ranting and seeing the humor in it are the best strategies for surviving while continuing to show up and do what you can to be there for them.

    There's all kinds of friendship in this world.

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    1. I appreciate the nomination for sainthood, but I'm pretty sure saint's garb would be itchy and ill-fitting. And the spewing? Oh, I snapped on her more than a few times back in the days when we were together 40+ hours/week.

      I love this: "...I believe that difficult people need help in this world, too..." It makes me feel a little less insane for remaining involved in this situation.

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  7. Friend Standards by Marianne

    BK (before kids): Dramatic, nonsensical, and needy. I served as your sounding board, cheerleader and middle-of-the night chauffeur.

    AF (after kids): You'd better be as low-maintenance as a self-cleaning oven. You better also bring me cupcakes once in a while.

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  8. AF?? WTF. I'm tired. You know what I meant.

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    1. I totally knew what you meant. Even though my youngest kid is 18, I'm thinking there's a little something to that standard. ;)

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  9. I am visiting from the Papa is a Preacher link up. I agree with those who have posted before me. Friendship comes in all sizes and shapes.

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    1. Thanks for visiting Rennata & thanks for the support. :)

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  10. I have no words of wisdom here. All I can say is your friend makes me feel much MORE normal that I had four dogs. It was kinda mistake but at least my four dogs all got along and didn't need that much supervision.
    But, um, maybe someone needs to point out how she treats her friends, people, the world in general?
    I have given up on friends who have been much less abrasive too me.
    Perhaps you need to step back from your so-called friend. . . .

    See? As I said, no words of wisdom.
    Stella xx

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    1. Seems pretty wise to me, Stella. Fortunately, when she is uninjured, I am significantly less involved in her life. Our contact is limited to a phone call once a week or so and lunch every couple of months (all initiated by her, of course). I am SOOOOOO looking forward to those days again.

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  11. You really are a truly good person to willingly continue to subject yourself to CBL and her special brand of crazy this regularly.

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    1. Thanks, Jane! I don't know if it makes me good or just crazy, too. Who knew the line between goodness and codependent enabling was so fine?

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  12. You are a saint. I don't know how you do it. I haven't had to deal with anyone quite this difficult, but in the past I have been driven to say things like "You are being grumpy," "You are being too critical," and sometimes! that gets some results or at least got me a minute of silence.

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    1. Trust me, I'm no saint. I totally used to call her out on her behavior--sometimes in mean ways that made me feel terrible about myself--when we were around each other all the time. Now that I'm not around her as much (usually), I can (usually) let it all slide. This latest rash of intensive togetherness is putting the let it slide rule to the test, for sure.

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  13. Exactly. You are a saint. I would run a million miles in the other direction! Here's hoping you got a break over the holidays...

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    1. Blessedly(and just in time), I did get a bit of a break over the holidays.

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