Guests
House guests, party guests,
Ignorant hosts
2000
Archive
2001-2002
Archive
Jan-Jun
2003
Archive
Jul-Dec
2003 Archive
Jan-Jun
2004 Archive
Jul-Dec
2004 Archive
Jan-Jun
2005 Archive
Jul-Dec
2005 Archive
2006
Archive
Jan-Jun
2007 Archive
Well I’ve wanted to write this down for some time now and
thought I would share with you the story of “the houseguest from ‘heck’
“as we lovingly refer to my cousin BT. Please keep in mind that my ‘guest’
stayed for only 38-39 hours. Less than 2 days. But if you keep a sense of humor,
they were very entertaining hours.
BT called in early May to ask if she can stay at my house on
Memorial Weekend to attend the marriage of a close personal family friend {other
side of her family so I don’t know them well enough to be invited}. I say yes
– BUT I have two commitments Saturday and Sunday so she will have to make
arrangements to get to the wedding on her own, etc.
For the last 15 or so years prior to this visit, BT has lived
out of the country, although she is still a US citizen. She usually stayed with
another relative [CB] who complained constantly about BT’s bad manners and
behavior. I figure, she takes advantage of CB because CB won’t stand up for
herself. Since I was young and naïve I figured - I would not have such a
problem because I ‘would not let BT walk all over me’. Yep, I was clueless.
BT calls several times on different nights before coming in
order to add to the “guest list” – and I tell her fine, when we run out of
beds and couches, there are sleeping bags for the floor. Hey – at least
she’s asking. Last call – it will be only her BUT I have to pick her up in
Canada at the Windsor train station at 10pm on Friday night.
My mother is concerned that I should not take my young
daughter to an unfamiliar place, out of the country, that late at night. Nor as
a young woman should I go alone. So daughter stays with parents and my
girlfriend ‘Sam’ agrees to accompany me with the added benefit that while
Sam lives in the states, she is a Canadian citizen so has familiarity with
destinations across the border.
We arrive at the train station at the appointed time and there
are no trains. In fact, the last scheduled train arrived at 6pm. We wander
around the station and finally call home to my mother to see if she’s heard
anything. BT finally arrives, with her middle child in tow. [Bed adjustments are
now in order]. Seems they’d gotten a ride to the train station, living 2 hours
away, and 10pm was the most convenient time for her because she had other things
to do that day.
So we get in the car and I allow young child [say 7 or 8] to
bring her can of pop with her. Since my daughter could handle it at that age, I
figure she can too. Sam and I are in the front seat, BT and her daughter [BT2]
are in the back. As we drive along the river, BT2 determines that I’m surely
going to drive into the river and we are all going to drown – thrashing her
arms around and spilling said pop everywhere. Sam turns around to tell her to
calm down, “Your cousin {me} knows what she’s doing and there is no
problem” at which point BT2 tells Sam to “shut up”. Sam was quite
wonderful and merely responded – “you could have at least said Please shut
up – Ms. Sam.” At this point BT informs me that she has forgotten to bring
the child’s birth certificate and she hopes it does not cause a problem
crossing the border. I responded that “I certainly hoped not because I am NOT
driving the 2 hours to get you back home”.
On the bridge, the customs agent asks for citizenship. Well, I
say, fairly quickly but as clearly as I can while pointing at the individuals
I’m referencing …. “I’m from the US and I live in the states, she’s
Canadian but she lives in the states, she’s from the states but she lives in
Canada and she’s Canadian and lives in Canada … okay???
He says “Whaaat!?!?!” I repeat - “I’m from the states
and I live in the states, she from Canada but she lives in the states, she’s
from Canada … “Never mind”, he says, “Go on through”. {You’ve
probably figured out this was way before 9-11}.
We get home and have a lovely evening {what’s left of it}
catching up on old times and I give BT and her daughter my bed and take the
couch. In the morning, I overhear BT2 get up and announce that we must be the
laziest people she’s ever seen because we are not up to make her breakfast
yet. [We were up way past midnight and it’s after 8am on a Saturday morning
– so sue me].
During breakfast, BT announces that I will need to drive them
to the wedding by 11am. “No – I told you I had a commitment today and you
needed to get your own ride”. As she goes through the litany of other
relatives from whom she thinks she can con a ride, I remind her of why each one
cannot [which includes ill health, vacation, distance, and ill health]. “Why
don’t you call the people hosting the wedding to see if they know of someone
in this area that you could ride with?”, I ask. She does – they can’t –
help that is AND by the way … “children are not invited so you will have to
baby-sit my daughter”. Thank goodness my daughter is old enough to handle it.
{You will probably remember that I had a commitment}.
She then asks if she can use my phone [and a phone book] to
call a friend. I’m curious so – okay. She pulls out the phone book and
starts dialing. Remember she’s been living out of the country for at least 15
years. “Mrs. Brown, yes, I went to Jr. High with a Mary Brown; are you
related? You see I need a ride to a wedding. Oh – you’re not.” …. Dial
again, Mrs. Williams, I went to Jr. High with a Carol Williams and I’m needing
a ride to a wedding – hello!?, hello? …. Dial again – Now we’re not
talking unusual names here like Gunhinklefarb or Swartzenegger – we’re
talking Smith and Jones. She called at least 4 people – sorry but I had to get
my mouth shut before I could open it again for speaking and tell her “Hang up
the phone BT; I’ll drive you.”
I got my commitment covered and we started out. Leaving at
10:15 {she wasn’t ready yet} for an 11:00am wedding downtown – but she had
to stop at the bank first. She didn’t bring any money or a present. After
waiting for her for 10 minutes in the parking lot, I decided I should go in and
help … someone, although I wasn’t sure who. She was Livid when she came out.
“They closed my account. Can you believe that? Now what am I supposed to do
for a present?” I had to ask. “When was the last time you used your account
BT?” Well 15 years ago when I lived here. Duh! Yep, they closed your account
all right.
Fortunately my father taught me excellent driving skills and
was available for a phone consult on best directions. [You’ll not be surprised
to learn BT had no clue where ‘XYZ destination’ was, so Dad’s help was
immeasurable]. I used every shortcut and quick trick he knew and pulled up at
the appointed place at exactly 11am. She actually turned to look at me and said
– “well now you’ve done it – I’m late.” I very coldly informed her
that I’d done a marvelous job of getting her there by 11 – if she was late
it was her own fault and, for the record, find your own ride home because I’m
not coming back. She looked confused that I seemed upset.
That night I took BT to see my grandmother. Since grandma
lived in a dangerous neighborhood [she was a tough ol’ broad – much
admired], we left the girls at my parents. When we dropped them off, there were
some ‘treats’ on the table for my father – he was very sick at the time
and these treats were one of the few things my mother could get him to eat.
Ordinarily, if you visit my mother’s home, you are offered and welcome to
anything there. But since these treats were so special to dad and his diet, mom
put them in the cupboard when we left.
So we visit Grandma – whom BT totally ticked off {which is
very difficult because Grandma had the patience of a saint}. All Grandma wanted
to do was tell us about her new refrigerator and show it to us. Unfortunately
all BT wanted to talk about were her latest ‘boyfriend exploits’. Can we say
“Know your audience” when you select subjects for discussion”? We get back
to Mom and Dad’s and BT says – “Aunt ‘G’ – where are those treats
that were sitting on the table earlier when we dropped the girls off?” Very
apologetically and very embarrassed my mother say, “BT – it’s hard for me
to say this but your uncle needs those to keep his weight up so I hid them.”
BT steps into the kitchen and before we can realize what’s happening she comes
back out, bag in hand, and says “Oh that’s okay Aunt ‘G’ – I found
them”. I swear she ate 6. At least we’re at the 24 hour mark of the visit.
When they arrived we told them that our dog would eat anything
that was food. If you have any food in your belongings, put them in one of the
bedrooms and shut the door or our dog will eat it, wherever it is. They had hard
candy in their backpack. He ate a hole through the bottom to get to it. She
ranted and raved about this backpack for the rest of their stay. Because, as
anyone knows, hard candy is not food.
She borrowed a book that night – which I loaned her knowing
I would never get it back – so no harm, no foul. She said she wanted to go to
church the next day – no problem. “But I don’t want to go to your church
– I want to go to this other one.” Well BT – no dice. First WE are going
to our church [side note – the same denomination she was brought up in] –if
you want to go to church, you’ll come with us. Second your train leaves at
12pm – if you’re going to have any chance of making that train – we have
to leave during the last hymn – so don’t sing it.
You guessed it – she tried to sing it. When I clubbed her up
side the head {it was Memorial Day – church was crowded and since we didn’t
get there in time [surprise?] my daughter and I sat behind them} so anyway I
clubbed her with the hymnal and told her we had to leave – she rushed passed
some friends of mine, nearly knocking a 7-month pregnant woman on her duff –
thankfully said woman’s husband had quick reflexes and caught her. We raced
out of the church.
I get into the car and pull it up to the walkway, the girls
jump in the back and I look – no BT. Where IS your mother I say – “Oh, she
didn’t want to ride on the train in a dress so she’s in the bathroom
changing into jeans.” Finally she gets into the car. I inform her that she
most assuredly is NOT going to make her train. I do my “Abbott and Costello”
bit at the border again and get us across the bridge. Yep – she missed the
train. The next one is at 5pm.
As I go to leave BT says – “what are we supposed to do
until 5pm?” I guess you’ll wait since I already told you I had commitments
this week-end. I will be late for my 1pm meeting back in the states as it is.
“But we’re hungry and I don’t have any money”. SO I took them to Mickey
D’s and bought them lunch. Then we did leave them at the train station with a
hasty farewell. She was not impressed. I was late to my meeting. But I do laugh
whenever I think of my over-confidence in being able to “handle” my cousin
AND the events of that weekend. It’s just a stitch.
She came back on a few other occasions but never again stayed
at my home. One time for my father’s funeral – during the funeral service
she balanced her checkbook on one of the couches in the back of the room – but
that’s another story.
Guests0708-07
I love my husband. That's good, because he's often an
idiot.
For the first several years of our marriage, even though I was
fairly young (early 20's) I generally handled social events with appropriate
dress--except around my husband's friends, especially work friends. I
usually ended up at his events extremely under- or over-dressed. I went to
a late Saturday afternoon party at his big boss' house dressed in a dress and
heels because my husband said it was a nicer party as it was being catered, only
to discover that is was an all day pool party catered by a local Mexican
restaurant. He'd forgotten to mention the pool party part. Another
time, he told me we were going for BBQ and I should wear shorts. We went
to a higher end steakhouse and I was grossly underdressed. I tried not to
mind, because he didn't seem to be doing it on purpose and they were HIS bosses
and coworkers and what did it matter to me? He also couldn't get times
right and we were ALWAYS late.
Then one summer Friday evening, he mentioned that we'd been
invited to a coworker's birthday party tomorrow, a BBQ something, and he
said our 4 children were invited too. I asked who, what, when, where,
etc., but he was vague. He'd gotten the invitation a few weeks ago
and the guy was bugging him for the last few days if we were going, and my
husband said yeah, he guessed we'd go. I thought yeah, I'd want to know if
6 extra people were coming or not too. I dropped it at this point as
this was HIS social connection and ultimately he was responsible. I was
about to learn how wrong I was.
The next day, about 5:45, he said that we needed to leave
"soon." I was doing some light weeding and was dusty and hot, so
I asked when we had to leave. (You have to understand--at this point I
knew what city this was in and what coworker invited him--nothing more.)
He said he'd let me know, but we had plenty of time. I went inside and
started getting the kids (about 10, 8, 4 and 2 years old) a bit cleaned up.
About 6:20, he suddenly announced we had to leave NOW. In that 35 minutes,
I'd gotten 4 kids cleaned up and changed into clean short sets, but I hadn't
even started on myself. He'd changed into a clean polo. I said I'd
be ready in 15 minutes but no, we had to go NOW. I was still in my shorts
and somewhat sweaty tee shirt, but hey, it was his show, so I dusted myself off,
changed into sandals, and got in the car.
We drove to his work (a 45 minute drive). The mill he
works at has a large park used by employees and city residents for casual
events. However, DH parked by the employee cafeteria. Okay, they
wanted air conditioning and flush toilets. No biggie. I did wonder
why the parking lot was fairly full and no one was walking in but assumed that
DH was late. Again.
We went into the dining area and I quickly noticed that
several tables were set up with pretty paper tablecloths and simple
centerpieces. We immediately spotted an empty table in the back and
hustled our 4 kids over there. As I was settling them in, I mentioned
to my husband that a lot of people were already here. "Oh, they were
probably here for the cocktail hour."
Cocktail hour? What? I started to look around me
more carefully and realized that the room was full of adults dressed in nice
casual clothing. Then I realized that the sounds I heard was a band tuning
up. Oh no. Oh no oh no ohnoohnoohnoit was a dinner dance. A
dinner dance! My stupid husband had received an invitation for a dinner
dance, and I am standing there in a sweaty tee shirt and not-too-clean shorts
and possibly dirt on my legs. Than I saw the huge pile of presents.
DH had specifically stated that the coworker didn't want any gifts. I also
realized that about half of the guests were eating, while the rest were waiting
their turn for the buffet. That's right, DH had timed our arrival just in
time to eat.
That's when my DH finally answered my angry hissing questions.
This was a casual dinner dance held for a coworker's 40th birthday by his wife,
with a cocktail hour at 6, dinner at 7, and dancing from 8 to 10. Yes, an
invitation had been sent to our house, but he'd seen and opened it first and
then taken it to work as it was "his" deal. Yes, the kids were
specifically invited (Thank God!). DH didn't think it was such a big deal
because they were "only having it at the company cafeteria."
This man's wife had spent weeks and a few thousand dollars to honor her husband.
If she saved a little money by renting the company facility so she could hire a
band, I explained, it was still a dinner dance and we needed to honor that by
dressing appropriately--or at least being clean. He also knew that most of
his fellow employees were bringing gifts, but the invitation said "gifts
optional," so my cheapo DH decided none were necessary. At that point
I'd had years of looking bad to his coworkers, but this was the absolute bottom.
I was mortified.
It was actually a lovely event, and I would have had a good
time if I'd had appropriate information. Our hostess was gracious and
never indicated displeasure in any way about my clothing (or odor).
From a few comments from some female coworkers, however, I knew I'd gotten a
reputation for being a social klutz. About 8:45, I pled bedtimes for
the kids and got the heck out of there. That night, I vowed I would never
again go anywhere with my husband unless I saw the invitation, memo, or
whatever and had good information.
This is all worse when you know that my husband is in an
important management position. We have the money. I have (usually)
the know-how. DH just didn't think it was important. Two years later
we were invited to an almost identical event held by the husband for his wife's
40th birthday. This time we RSVP'd, arrived appropriately dressed, with a
gift, and on time.
Please, please, be gracious to the social klutzes of the
world, because it may not be their fault.
Guests0731-07
My younger brother, "A" (then 25) telephoned me to
ask if he could come and stay "for a few days". Knowing that he always
overstays his welcome, I told him yes, but asked him exactly how long ‘a few
days’ would be. He replied that he wasn’t sure, but it definitely wouldn’t
be more than two weeks.
Fast forward a month, when he turns up. A arrives with no
luggage at all, just a toothbrush in his pocket. When it rains on his second day
with me, he asks if I’ll loan him a coat. When I asked why he didn’t bring
one, he replied ‘It’s wasn’t raining when I left home!’ I end up buying
him a coat, and various other things – including socks, as after 5 days of him
wearing the same pair, I couldn’t stand the smell!
For starters, A is a terrible house guest. He doesn’t clean
up anything, chain smokes (I’m a non-smoker so this drives me nuts), plays
loud music at 3am, leaves every room in the house looking like a pigsty, is rude
to everyone, takes two hour showers when I’m waiting to get ready for work,
and consistently leaves every tap running and the front door wide open when he
goes out. All of this I can cope with – he is still my brother after all.
So three weeks pass. A shows no signs of going. I finally ask
him when he’s going home. He then tells me that he handed in his notice on his
place the day he came to stay with me, and will be staying until he can find a
new job (he quit his last one because he got bored) and earn enough money for a
new place.
I’m annoyed, but agree that he can stay another month.
I’ll help him find a job, and he can contribute towards his food etc. while
he’s earning.
I find him a job and loan him bus fare and living expenses. I
should say at this point, that I earn maybe half of what he does.
On his first pay day he comes in and shows me the new T-shirt
that he has spent £100 ($200) on, and the CDs that he has spent the rest of his
wages on. When I ask if he has any housekeeping money for me, he tells me he has
spent it all and oh, can he borrow another £50 ($100) to get to work?
Four months (yes, MONTHS) on, I’ve received the grand total
of £5 ($10) from him, and he is still showing no signs of going. I tell him
that we have friends coming to stay in 4 weeks which was arranged months ago,
and he has GOT to be out by then as we only have the one spare room.
Two weeks on, I’ve found him 4 different places to look at,
but he can’t be bothered as ‘it’s all too much hassle’.
Another week goes by, and yes, he’s still there. My FH (now
DH) tells A, in no uncertain terms, that he wants him out by the end of the
week, or he’ll throw him out. A assures us both that he has ‘something lined
up’ and will be out in the next couple of days.
The day before our friends turn up, FH packs up A’s
belongings, leaves them outside and refuses to let me allow A back in. A sleeps
in our porch all night while I fret about if we are being cruel by turfing him
out.
The following day, I overhear A telling a friend that I
obviously feel so guilty that I’ll let him stay longer. I finally side with DH
and realize that this puts a whole new spin on ‘taking advantage’!
When it becomes clear to A that I will make him sleep outside
before I let him back in the house, A finds a flat and moves in within 8 hours.
So he can’t find anywhere for 6 months, but then manages it in 8 hours.
He has stayed with us once since then – for 2 days.
I know – I’m an idiot. Or a doormat. Or both. The only
thing I’ve ever asked him to do for me is to come to my wedding, even finding
him a place to stay and buying him a suit - he changed his mind on the morning
of the wedding, saying he was too busy, but I guess that’s another story…
Guests0918-07
Until recently, my best friend Leighann lived with her
father in a not-entirely-safe area in a city about two hours from
where I live. When her father died six weeks ago, our college friend Rose
offered to let Leighann stay at her house until she could make arrangements
for her first solo apartment. Rose was wonderful at first, offering
wonderful support, comfort and encouragement, and assisting with the apartment
search as much as possible. Then things started to turn sour. Rose's husband Ed
declared that Leighann should help out with the housework as long as she was
there. While that's not necessarily unreasonable, she was already pretty
overwhelmed with her responsibilities as de facto executor of her dad's estate,
and any time she tried to sit down with her laptop and get something sorted out,
Rose popped up with another chore to be done. And after inviting
Leighann to stay, Ed decided that Rose should present her with a bill
for room, board, and utilities. This is not my idea of hospitality. It gets
better, since 'Tact' is not Rose's middle name, and 'Gracious' is not Ed's.
The weekend DH and I went down to help Leighann move
into her apartment, we went to Lowes to grab a few needed items. I stepped
away from the group for a moment to answer my cell phone. When I came back,
Leighann was crying. DH and Nicole (another college friend who'd been helping us
that day) had no idea why. It seems that Rose had decided it was time to
let Leighann know that Ed felt she didn't seem grateful enough for
having been allowed to stay at their house. Rose proceeded to explain to me that
Ed's family had an exaggerated idea of what constitutes an adequate display of
gratitude, and that there has to be a profuse outpouring of thanks and abundant
hugs even for things like simple Christmas gifts. Now Leighann is a very shy
person, and is especially nervous around guys. While she'd quietly thanked Ed
several times she hadn't exactly gushed at any point, and didn't think it
appropriate to initiate hugs with a friend's husband. Once we got her calmed
down, made our purchases and left the store, Rose started saying that she KNEW
she shouldn't have said anything, and that Ed TOLD her not to say anything... I
gently suggested that if something like that ever came up again and she felt it
absolutely needed to be addressed, she might want to discuss it with someone
else in our group of friends, like me, so that they could help her resolve the
situation in a non-hurtful way. Her response? "Yeah, but if I told you what
Ed said then you'd go tell him off, and he'd hate you even more than he does
already."
Now, I'd thought that Ed and I got along pretty well, and that
we were actually friends. I kept my cool and asked her to elaborate, since I
honestly like to mend my faults, and she backpedaled to him merely disliking me
for a reason that even he didn't understand. We ate a less than
enjoyable dinner at a chain restaurant and went back to the apartment so
that Nicole, DH and I could go home, and Rose insisted that everyone join
her in prayer to "help with the hurt feelings." During this prayer she
asked God to make us all feel better and to help me and Ed to resolve
our differences even though I'M an irritating person. Yes, roughly two hours
after she first put her foot in her mouth, Rose moved past her shin and on to
her knee. I called her the next day to see how she was doing on the school
project she was supposed to be working on that weekend, and she informed me that
she'd talked things over with Ed and now knew what his problem was with me,
but that she didn't think it was a good time to discuss it. Day late, dollar
short. I'm pretty much resolved to maintaining a civil and courteous
relationship with him regardless, though I'll likely make an effort to spare him
the unpleasantness of my company whenever possible.
Leighann came up to visit me this past weekend, and I helped
her put together a gift basket for her erstwhile, ersatz hosts, complete
with thank-you note. While we shopped she told me about a few stellar moments
from her stay. Rose had been helping her sift through some of the detritus at
her dad's overly-cluttered house, often tossing things in the rubbish bin
without asking first - including family photos. She mentioned to Leighann's
cousin that Ed had complained that they'd have to give back the television
they'd been borrowing from/storing for Leighann. Rose gathered up a lot of nice
shirts that had gotten slightly too small for Leighann and took them home to
wash, saying she thought Leighann would be able to lose enough weight to get
into them again soon. Once they were at her house, however, she told Leighann
that she'd be happy to keep them, if Leighann didn't think she wanted them. She
took a pair of overalls that actually DID fit Leighann, but that she hadn't worn
for awhile because some of the buttons needed replacing. Rose took them home
without asking and tried them on, then left them in the floor when she found
that a) they were too large for her and b) the buttons were missing, then told
Ed that they were Leighann's! When they were going through some of the bins that
Nicole and I helped Leighann pack they found some jewelry that Leighann's mother
had left her when she died roughly 18 months ago. Leighann doesn't wear jewelry,
as a rule, so she intended to just pack it away again. Rose tried on one of the
necklaces - a "diamond" studded pendant shaped like the letter L.
"Why, that stands for Lake!" she declared. "Or for
Leighann," she added coyly. Rose has also constantly encouraged
Leighann to buy graphic novels from a series they both enjoy and offered to keep
them at her house, just so nothing would happen to them, and bought random
volumes herself so that it's impossible to remember which belonged to whom. I'd
never thought of Rose as a greedy person, but her recent behavior is certainly
pointing in that direction!
Guests0919-07
When I dated "Liam," his best friend was
"Jenny."
Liam and I were invited to Jenny's for dinner one night with
her and her boyfriend.
I knew that they would be serving fish and as a good guest
decided to take a bottle of wine. Since I worked in the a dept of a nationwide
specialty market, that dealt in wine, I consulted with a co-worker and found an
estate bottled Vernacia that was shipped to the US in error. It was a $12.00
wine that should have cost closer to $20.00.
Jenny and her boyfriend had just returned from a California
vacation that included a vineyard tour... maybe more than one... and returned
with a bottle of chardonnay. Granted, I know the producer and price range of the
wine she brought back to share with us with dinner that night and it was a nice
bottle of wine.
Here's the kicker... when we arrived, I arranged to
chill/re-chill the wine I brought... (summer in Texas, and a drive across
town)... Jenny came into the kitchen... looked at the wine and said "I've
already got wine for dinner, we'll have the CHEAP STUFF later."
Guests0922-07
In 2004, at the ripe old age of 39, I was diagnosed with
invasive breast cancer. I was a dedicated athlete and health food eater
without any family history of the disease. So it came as quite shock.
Four days after what was the first surgery I had ever had in my life, a
couple of "friends" (I'll call them "Fred" and
"Barney") came to visit. (Both of these men were well into
their 40's, not teenaged boys, not that anyone would know by their behavior.
Fred began speaking in such a foul-mouthed manner, that I actually had to
tell him to watch his language in front of my 80-year-old mother. His
response was: "No, it's fine." And he continued to curse like a
drunk marine. But it got worse. A little while later, he decided
to bring up the subject of nipple piercing! After all, what better subject
could one discuss in front of a woman who's just had cancer surgery on her
breast and her elderly mother? I actually started screaming
"STOP STOP STOP!" while Fred continued to talk right through me and
Barney sat there giggling. By the time they left a few minutes later, I
was practically hysterical. I never spoke to either one of them
again. Oddly, Fred continued to call my house for a few weeks
afterward, as if nothing had happened. I never picked up the phone and he
left a series of increasingly bewildered sounding messages on our answering
machine. How clueless can you get?!?
Guests1012-07
A friend of mine with a history of being rather
self-centered was invited with her partner to my daughter's first birthday
barbecue. Not only did she park on our shared driveway (whereas the other 30
guests realized it would be better to park on the street so as not to block the neighbors,
including my elderly and not very mobile relatives) but she turned up with a
bottle of wine.... and two wine glasses. She and her partner uncorked the bottle
and shared the whole thing between themselves. Not only did they not offer any
to anyone else, but to bring their own fancy glasses so they wouldn't have to
drink out of a plastic cup seems pretty snobby! I found the bottle
of wine in the kitchen afterwards and commented to my husband that at least they
left the rest here for us.. but nope, the bottle was empty and they hadn't
bothered to put it in the recycle bin on their short walk to the most selfish
parking possible.
Guests1024-07
My brother lives in California and was kind enough to fly me
out (from) for my first ski/snowboarding experience while I was still a
poor college student. He invited friends and family. All together
eight people ended up wanting to come. Now coming from a large close
family it was decided that we would share the condo he rented for the weekend.
His work buddy however was married to a girl who shall be referred to as
"Princess" from now on. Princess insisted on having her own
condo because she and hubby were trying to get pregnant (talk about TMI).
To be fair, I can understand her being uncomfortable sharing a condo with 6
people she doesn't really know. My brother rented the
condos with the understanding that they would pay him back the 250/night.
Day 1. My brother is a very good snowboarder, but had
offered to stay on the green slopes to teach myself, my other brother and
Princess how to snowboard for the first 1/2 day (never mind that her own husband
ditched her for the blacks as soon as we stepped outside). Princess
proceeds to manipulate my brother's time leaving my other brother and I no
face time with him and no one to teach us. The dramatics that went on that
afternoon were actually quite impressive. Apparently she was far more
delicate than the rest of us and deserved to be fawned over....fortunately my
brother doesn't respond well to whiners. She was thirsty, but
refused the Camel Back, she was hungry, but refused the protein bars we brought
and insisted we all sit there while she ate from the overpriced snack bar (the
entire reason we brought the protein bars in the first place.)
That night she wanted to go to an expensive steak house for
dinner despite the fact that we had made it clear that 1. We didn't have
the funds, and 2., it was a Friday during Lent and we are Catholic so we would
be eating P.B. and J's. She got all huffy about it. We invited them
over (after their steak dinner). We drank, played cards and just hung
out.....First it was too cold, then it was too hot, then she hated the
music that we had ALL voted on and took it upon herself to change it to some
crap that not even hr husband wanted to listen to. For the card game
we ALL agreed to put names in a hat and draw partners....she of course did not
draw her husband and started to cry....she actually cried about it.
Day 2. More of the same, more complaining, more
bitching.....she actually was incredulous when we left the slope early to clean
up in time to make Mass (Catholic) at a church about 1/2 hr. away. No one
said she had to stop snowboarding????
Day 3 We had held our tongues for two days now and just
about at the end of our rope when who should walk in at 8:00 am....Yes,
Princess. Apparently they had stopped the toilet up in their condo and she
HAD to take her ovulation test right that second....(Yes, I understand it's time
sensitive, but TMI again). Normally we would have conceded, but we had
been pushed too far. My sister informed her that my brother was in the
bathroom and that she was welcome to use the bathroom, but that she would be 4th
in line.....She stormed over to the bathroom and banged excessively on the door
to which my brother yelled at the top of his lungs......"Give me a break,
I'm trying to take a Sh*t!!!!" She got upset and left and we
started laughing till we were crying. Yes, a faux pas and TMI on our
part, but we were fed up. She didn't speak to us for the rest of the trip
(fine by us) and I don't think they ever paid my brother for the condo.
Guests1211-07
My friend "Sam" had moved to a different state
and came back a month later in a furniture-removal truck to transport
the rest of his stuff from his old apartment to his new one. He was only in town
for a weekend and planned to spend Friday afternoon loading the truck and Friday
night at a friend's birthday party in a town about 40 minutes away (let's call
it Smalltown). I had to work that night and couldn't be designated driver, and
the only vehicle he had was a big furniture truck he could hardly drive around
that night, so we worked out a plan: He would walk to my work from his old
apartment and take my car for the night. The only stipulation was that he return
about midnight to pick me up from work. I helped Sam move all
afternoon and, before I left to get ready for work (about 4 p.m.), double
checked that he could be back in time to pick me up. If he wanted to stay later
to party or had had too much to drink, I was OK with him staying the night in
Smalltown and driving back to my city the next day. I could get a ride home with
a co-worker. Sam assured me he would be back by midnight to pick me up.
About 9:30 p.m., I took a break from work to text Sam and find
out how the party was going. Everything was going fine, and he once more assured
me he would be back by midnight. About 11:30, I texted Sam to let
him know I was out of work early, figuring he was already on the road. I had no
problem waiting the extra half-hour for him. His response? "The game isn't
over yet." It turns out Sam and his birthday buddy were
watching their favorite baseball team on TV and they still had some innings to
go. What's more, Sam had been watching the game at 9:30, so he easily could have
said he wouldn't be back by midnight after all and left me time to arrange a
ride after work. As it was, I was stuck at work with no car and no ride home. My
co-workers had either left or hadn't finished their own duties yet and
could easily be another hour -- plus, I felt awkward suddenly asking them for a
ride and possibly inconveniencing them. I called my boyfriend, but he didn't
pick up. I asked Sam what time the game ends, and he said he wasn't sure and
that I had better find my own way home. There was nothing else for
it: I began walking. Luckily, I live less than half a mile from work in a
pretty safe area, but I'm only 5 foot 2 and was walking alone at night dressed
in nice clothes. I was on edge the whole time in case a car pulled up beside me
or someone accosted me on the sidewalk. It's not as though the streets were
bustling and I could feel safe in a crowd. I felt relieved when I made it
home.
Sam didn't drop off my car until about 1:30 a.m. I jumped in
my car Saturday morning to find he had left a half-empty box of candy and some
other litter in the passenger seat, and that I had considerably less gas in the
tank. I had helped him move, let him borrow my car, been as flexible as
possible, and he still stood me up and didn't return my car in the
condition it was given.
Guests1222-07
A few years ago now, my brother-in-law came to stay with us
for 9 interminable months. While staying with us he did nothing but complain and
moan, until even my husband, who has the patience of a saint, snapped, and told
him in no uncertain terms to pull his head in. This resulted in sulky silence
for a couple of weeks (which in my opinion made a nice change!) The thing I
couldn't understand was his attitude. NOTHING was good enough or up to his
standards. We aren't the richest people in the world, but we're not on the bread
line either, we own a nice, albeit smallish, house close to a lovely beach. My
brother- in-law seemed to be very disappointed we weren't living in a mansion
complete with servants. You would have thought by the way he talked he lived in
a castle, he had however had come to us from a very rural part of a former
communist country and lived in a house that didn't even have indoor plumbing -
if you wanted water you went to the well, and there was a long-drop toilet out
the back.
The one incident that leaves me dumbfounded to this very day,
happened one weekend. We were all working during the week so the weekend was the
time I caught on all my household chores. I had done a substantial amount of
laundry (the men worked in construction so got their clothes very dirty...) and
hung it out to dry on our washing line, then gone out for the day with my
husband. Later that day while we were out, it started to rain, so I sighed and
figured I'd be doing all the laundry again tomorrow. When I got home, I went out
to the line to get all the wet clothes inside again, and noticed all my brother
in law's items had been taken off the line - obviously by him when it started to
rain. So when I got back inside I asked him why he didn't bring in the rest of
the washing when he got his. "Oh" he said "I didn't want to touch
your underwear" Ok, fair enough I could understand that he didn't want to
touch my clean underwear (when I got the job of laundering his dirty ones...)
but what about everything else, surely there's nothing offensive about a
t-shirt? a tablecloth? a towel?
I made sure he did all his own laundry from that weekend
onwards.
Guests0423-08
As a somewhat shy teenage girl, I was excited to be invited on
a week's winter vacation with a middle-aged family friend, who I'll call Dinah.
The vacation group, as I understood it, would also include Dinah's daughter
Pearl and my younger sister Jillian. We would drive up to the mountains, about
six hours away, and stay at the house of Dinah's friends, our hosts for the
week. Although I didn't know this family, I trusted Dinah, was friendly with
Pearl and on good terms with my sister, and felt very honored to be included.
My first indication that trouble was to be expected came when
a last-minute addition to our car group was almost literally shoehorned in for
the long, long drive. He needed a ride in the direction we were headed, and
Dinah decided that it would be no great inconvenience to offer him a seat. As a
result, Mr. Last-minute got the front passenger seat while three
not-precisely-waifish young women encumbered by assorted luggage and bulky
winter coats squashed themselves miserably together in the back, enduring the
car's overheated air and trying to remain optimistic. Meanwhile, Dinah chatted
loudly with the fellow, who was nice enough, but had severely limited
intelligence and probably never realized how much the other passengers were
suffering thanks to him.
When we arrived at our destination, after dropping Mr.
Last-Minute off (to my ineffable relief), our host family greeted us warmly. It
looked like things were shaping up, but I hadn't yet realized that the
occasional sneeze and mild headache I'd been experiencing on the drive were not,
in fact, the products of a stressful journey but the harbingers of something
much more ominous. As the hours passed and we got to know our hosts better, I
was also getting to feel much worse. Still hoping desperately that my sniffles
and sore throat would vanish after a good night's sleep, I asked the mom for a
couple of Tylenol, since my head was now aching as if I'd bashed it with a
brick.
"We don't have any," the mom said, and just looked
at me with apparently nothing else to say. I thought this was a bit odd, but
said quickly, "I'm sorry - I didn't mean Tylenol specifically; I just need
a couple of aspirin, or maybe you use ibuprofen. Really, anything is fine,"
I added.
I was willing to go along with anything she had to offer, but
I was not prepared for what she said next.
"We don't keep any in the house because we don't believe
in taking medicine," she told me, matter-of-factly, and left me sitting
there with my jaw hanging.
Amazingly, no one in our entire group had so much as a
children's aspirin. I went to sleep because I had no other choice. Of course,
when I woke up, I wished I hadn't. My throat was raw, my skin hurt, and I felt
feverish. Worst of all, I felt I had to apologize to everyone for being sick
just when the schedule called for a day's skiing in the mountains. As if I could
have chosen NOT to get the flu. I resigned myself to spending the day quietly
quarantined in the guest bedroom while everyone else went out to have fun.
No sooner had I wrapped myself up in my blankets than my
sister came in the room to inform me that I needed to get up and get dressed,
because we were all leaving to go to the ski resort. I blinked. "That's
impossible, because I have the flu," I said quite reasonably. Considering
that she'd been right next to me moments ago when I excused myself from the ski
trip, I was having a hard time understanding how she'd missed that fact.
"Well, you can't stay here," she said. "You
can't be here alone." I was touched, but assured her that I was really just
going to try to sleep and could get myself a glass of water if I needed one.
Unfortunately, I'd misunderstood her. Our hosts - I'll name
them the Persnicketys - had said that since Mr. Persnickety was going to be
remaining in the house and everyone else was leaving, I couldn't be in the house
alone with him, because it would be indecent. Therefore I had to get up and get
dressed immediately and go to the ski resort.
In disbelief, I suggested that I lock myself into the room and
get some much-needed sleep. My sister explained that I did not have a choice and
that I WAS getting up and that I would NOT cause a scene about it.
I know this sounds like I'm exaggerating, because I'm looking
back on it fairly distanced from the whole thing now (at least ten years) and I
still can't believe it. I was so feverish I didn't know if I could get to the
car, and not one person in that house bothered to find a solution that didn't
involve a sick guest - without the benefit of painkillers, mind you - being
dragged to a ski resort in the middle of winter and forced to sit upright on a
hard bench in a noisy ski resort all day with no way to rest, let alone sleep?
Well, that's exactly what happened. I'm just grateful the
Persnicketys were able to avoid the appearance of impropriety by not allowing a
sick guest to sleep in a guest room - horrors! - without a chaperone.
If not for the hot lemon tea I was able to buy at the ski
resort and a baggie of cough drops I purchased later that afternoon, I would
have to classify that day as unadulterated torture. Mrs. Persnickety and dear
old Dinah talked to each other and basically ignored me, and Pearl had fun with
my sister Jillian and the rest of the Persnickety clan and basically ignored me.
The only one who didn't pretend I didn't exist was Jillian, who informed me -
back at the house - that I was ruining the entire vacation with my selfishness
and should stop whimpering and acting miserable and trying to get attention.
(Come to think of it, being ignored would have been a blessing in comparison.)
I hereby consign to Etiquette Hell the following deserving
souls: Jillian, for caring more about not rocking the boat than her sister's well-being;
Dinah and Pearl, for a complete and utter lack of common sense and compassion;
and the entire Persnickety family, for abdicating their responsibility toward a
helpless guest who was six hours away from home and wholly dependent on their
kindness at a time of desperate need.
Lesson learned: If you go on vacation, bring your own aspirin.
And try to travel with at least one person who will stick up for you if you're
incapacitated.
Guests0514-08
In 1984, I was just out of college and living outside of Los
Angeles. A former college roommate, “Karla,” called to say that she
and three of her church friends would be driving down from Idaho to attend the
Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. She was eager to get together while they
were here and would call after they arrived. I didn’t hear
from them until 10:30 p.m. on the night of one of the largest attended Olympic
events at the Coliseum, near downtown Los Angeles. They had attended an
event at a smaller, nearby venue and their car had been towed away. They
knew they were parked in a marked tow-away zone, but there were so many other
cars parked there that they figured it was okay. Every one of the
cars there was towed away. Stranded in an extremely dodgy
neighborhood with no car and no way to get to the tow yard, they called the one
person one of them knew in Southern California – me. I did
what you do for friends; I got out of bed, dressed and drove the thirty miles
into the big city through Olympic event traffic to collect them. We drove
into an even dodgier area to the tow yard, which was guarded by shotgun and pit
bulls. They pooled their money and bailed out the car for an outrageous
fee. Once I knew they were safe, I took my leave, with Karla
promising to call the next day so we could get together during the remaining
week they were in town. You guessed it, over twenty years have passed and
I never heard from Karla again.
Guests0320-08
I met a woman during a singles' group vacation to Central
America. She was my assigned roommate for the trip by the travel agency.
We seemed to get along well and enjoyed our vacation immensely as a result.
As a matter of fact, there were 30 of us on the trip and we made some really
wonderful new acquaintances. A majority of which are located in my region
of the country, the East Coast, encompassing NY, NJ and PA. As a result,
we wanted to keep in touch after the vacation ended. My assigned roommate
was from Texas.
When talks of an East Coast reunion came about, Karen from
Texas, was copied on the email that circulated. She immediately emailed me
informing me that she wanted to come for the reunion and crash at my place.
I was shocked, as I did not invite her to stay with me, and I have never invited
myself to someone else's home, ever, but agreed to provide her accommodations.
I am one of the vacationers who lives in PA and the reunion was to be held in
Manhattan. I made the mistake of thinking that, because she was raised in
the South, she must have manners. At least that was my perception of
Southerners, until she arrived. I was not prepared for what was about to
happen.
The Philadelphia Airport is 45 minutes from my home. Her
flight was delayed by 3 hours so I sat on the shoulder of the highway in chilly
February, freezing my butt off in my car awaiting a cell phone call that her
plane had landed, at which time I drove to the gate to pick her up. She
never mentioned her concern that I had to wait, only complained about how awful
the flight was as we drove the 45 minutes back to my home. Not once did
she utter the words "Thank you."
I was also surprised that she came with only things for
herself. I was raised that when you are invited (and she wasn't) to
someone's home, you bring a hostess gift. Nothing fancy, just a token of
gratitude to show appreciation. She brought nothing.
When we arrived at my home, a one bedroom condo, I insisted
that she take the bedroom and I would sleep on the couch. She agreed, but
then set about trashing my condo with the entire contents of her suitcase, which
she plopped down in the middle of my living room and began to unpack. She began
by unplugging appliances on my kitchen counter and plugging in her hot rollers
and her cell phone charger, pushed items aside on my bathroom vanity and set up
her cosmetics and flat iron, began strewing the living room floor with shoes and
boots and various other items from her bag, then covered my dining table with
other items and purses that she pulled from her bag. Never once did the
words; Is it okay if..? or May I? or Do you mind if? cross her lips! The
answer would have been; No you may not! There was sufficient room and a
vanity mirror with a power strip in my bedroom for her to unpack and get
settled. I made sure of it before her arrival.
On the evening of the event I drove to the train station,
assuming that maybe she didn't have time to shop for a gift and hoping she would
offer to pay for gas, my train ticket, or the cab from the train station to the
restaurant as a gesture of gratitude. If it were me, that's exactly what I
would do under the circumstances. Not her. Not a chance.
When the bill for dinner came we agreed to split it evenly
amongst the group. Surprisingly, we had dinner in the most reasonably
priced restaurant in Manhattan and each person in the group contributed $65.00,
which covered dinner, drinks and the tip. If it were me, I would have
insisted on paying for my hostess's dinner. Not her. Not a
chance.
I also need to mention that her flight was paid for with
frequent flyer miles. She paid $5.00 tax for the flight.
Later in the evening, after she had too much to drink, she
confronted me in the pub we were in and insisted I looked like I was miserable
and then insisted I go home and leave her there in NY to find her own way
back to my condo in PA. I was tired, but I didn't think I was throwing the
"miserable" vibe. I had stopped drinking alcohol an hour before
the last train was to leave NYC as we had a two hour commute by train and a half
hour commute by car. I was being responsible, not miserable, and if I was
a guest in someone else's home and felt they were unhappy, or whatever her
perception was, I would have asked if WE should leave. I would not have
insisted that my hostess GO HOME. I was shocked, but stayed the course and
rounded up all of the train commuters from PA an NJ to head out for the 1:30 am
train leaving NY.
Then, while commuting via train, Karen became irritated with
another drunk's cell phone conversation and threatened to blow his head off.
Yes, BLOW HIS HEAD OFF. It was so embarrassing. Not to mention
dangerous, as the last train from NYC is loaded with rather eccentric
characters!
When we arrived back at my condo at 4:00 am, she set about
changing her plane reservations to 7:30 am. Then she told me to go to bed
watch television in my bedroom. I informed her that every room was MY ROOM
and I would watch TV where ever I felt like. When she couldn't get a car
to pick her up she insisted I get up, get dressed and take her to the airport
immediately. I told her to shut up and go to bed. She changed her
flight back to later in the afternoon and went to bed.
At 12:00 noon I roused her awake, told her to pack, call for a
taxi and get out of my house! At which time she thought we needed to
"talk". She tried to spin it like she was just trying to be a
good friend. I promptly informed her that if she was going for the
"friendship" angle, she sucked at it. Then I put her out on the
curb! She actually uttered the words: Thanks for letting me stay with you,
as she exited my home. A little too late, chica!
Guests0206-08
Several years ago, we had just moved into our dream home, and
sent out our annual holiday letters with a general invitation to friends
and family to stop by and stay with us for a night or two in our new place if
they'd like. The house is spacious, with three bedrooms with bathrooms, so we
thought we could handle most guests for at least a few days. An old acquaintance
who had known me since before we got married in 1986 promptly wrote and said
that she was planning to visit another friend in Northern California, and
wanted to know if she could come to Southern California to visit us for a
"day or two" at the end of her trip. Remembering how much we had
enjoyed the company of her husband, now sadly deceased, and her, we
enthusiastically said yes, we'd love to see her for a few days. Let's call her
Enid.
About two weeks before she left for her trip to Northern
California, she called and said that she had gotten a better rate and was going
to be visiting California for TWO weeks, so would we mind if she stayed a full
week instead of the two or three days that she had originally planned, since her
friends in Northern California would only be able to host her for a week? Of
course, we said sure, but reminded her that both of us worked (my husband in an
office, and I out of my home office), so while we would love to have her visit,
we would not be able to entertain her full time, that I would need to work at
least four hours a day with no interruptions, so that we would have to work out
a schedule. Enid said of course, no problem, she understood completely and
was very capable of amusing herself as well as getting around despite her age.
(That should have been a warning bell, of course, but was missed in the general
flurry of arrangements.) She wouldn't say exactly how old she was, though; I
have several friends who are extremely active septuagenarians and octogenarians,
so was picturing her in this category. I found out later that she was actually
79.
At this point in time, she started calling me three or four
times a day to ask about the weather, what clothes she should bring, what sights
we should visit, and just chat. I began to feel a sense of foreboding, and
reminded her several times that as much as I regretted it, I would need to focus
on my work for at least a few hours every day. I also patiently answered all her
questions about sights and activities, and reminded her that the weather here is
very unsettled in early spring, with highs sometimes as high as 100 but
sometimes with highs only in the 50s during the day, so that she would need to
bring both cold weather clothes as well as warm weather clothes. Naturally, the
weather in Northern California in the early spring is much colder, so she blamed
me for the fact that she was too cold there, because I had told her that it
could be very warm at times -- here. (It also happens to be the culture that
folks who live where she was staying tend to pile on an extra sweater and socks and
keep the thermostat pretty low.)
Both my sons have emotional and neurological problems, which
means that at times they need to be handled a bit differently than some other
children, because they don't respond to certain types of stress well. My
younger son was also suffering from extremely severe generalized anxiety
disorder, and has a hard time meeting strangers. It was perhaps unfortunate that
his room was the one with the walk-in shower, so that he needed to be moved into
our room for the week that Enid would be staying with us. We had originally
planned for my older, much more gregarious and flexible son to give up his room
to Enid (he would sleep on the couch), but could not when she arrived and we
learned that she was unable to get in and out of a conventional tub. We
installed grab bars and a seat in the walk in shower for Enid, and changed the
non-slip floor treads three times until we finally found a style that didn't
bother her feet.
We took two days off from work while she was here to visit a
number of sights around the valley where we live. It turned out that Enid was
unable to walk more than about 100 yards, contrary to what she had told us about
being extremely active and able to get around by herself (she had meant only
that she didn't need to rely on a wheelchair for everything), so we rented a
wheelchair to help her get around. The night before my husband and I
returned to work, we talked with Enid and explained that while I would be happy
to take her places, I really needed four uninterrupted hours every day to meet
my work obligations, and couldn't be available to her during those hours, but
that I would be happy to spend time with her the rest of the time, as much as
family needs could allow, and that I looked forward to her company.
However, Enid was unable to respect my need to work without
interruption (I was an independent researcher and writer at the time, and really
needed to be able to concentrate to do my work well). She literally could not go
more than fifteen minutes without striking up a conversation, and was visibly
hurt whenever I said, "I'm so sorry, Enid, but I really need to concentrate
on my work right now." She would not read a book or watch
television (the one was "too hard," even with the special lighted
magnifying lamp we got at her request, and the other was too boring), and being
too frail to walk more than 100 yards made it impossible for her to enjoy our
beautiful neighborhood and friendly, mostly retired neighbors.
After a day or so of being disappointed because I couldn't pay
enough attention to her constant bids for my time, she decided to bring out the
big guns and punish me by critiquing my every move as a housekeeper and as a
mother, usually starting out her comments by saying, "When my children were
in school, ..." or "When I cook/clean/do laundry...." and so
forth. When Enid came to visit, I was already 50 years old and not only
knew how to clean and cook, but had a cleaning lady come in every week for the
major stuff -- my house may not have been surgically clean, but it was certainly
not a sty. On top of that, my children ARE special needs kids, and I had had
years of counseling and training in how to manage them; I am not saying that I
was perfect and never made any mistakes, but I did have a pretty good idea that
the types of discipline she was recommending for my younger son would be
ineffective at best and extremely destructive at worst. When I politely
acknowledged her critical comments and told her that I appreciated her views but
would prefer to do things the way we were doing them, she would subside
temporarily. By the fourth day of her visit, I gave up trying to work at
anything, because I couldn't get her to stop interrupting my train of thought
every five minutes or so.
The evening of the fifth day, I finally ran out of
patience and told her that while she was entitled to her opinions, I am also
entitled to mine, and that there are many, many differences between her family
and mine that affect the choices I make, and that I didn't think she necessarily
understood all of them. I also told her that I was extremely upset that she had
not respected my need to focus on my work, and that as a result, I was very
behind in what I needed to get done. She was surprised to hear that I had felt
that her comments were critical, but acknowledged that, upon reflection, she did
think that she knew better than I did, and would make every effort to not make
those kinds of comments any more. We also talked about our mutual frustrations
with how the rest of the visit was going -- she had pictured us spending entire
days together, cozily chatting over cups of herbal tea, while I had pictured
being able to get my work done quickly in a few concentrated hours, then
visiting with her and taking her around to see the sights, based on what she had
told me about her interests and abilities before she came.
Sad to say, Enid was unable to curtail her continuing critical
comments, though our air clearing discussion the night before made it easier for
me to explain to her why I did the things that I did the way I did them, and for
us to embark on a much less tension-filled discussion of why doing it my way
worked or at least wasn't as bad as she thought it was initially. Since I had
given up on trying to work, she got at least a semblance of her cozy chats over
tea; as long as I kept her telling stories about her life, we had a pretty good
time. It was incredibly exhausting for me, though, because my children are also
high-maintenance, high-intensity people, and unfortunately, her constant carping
about everything from posture to reading preferences (not to mention food
phobias or defensive shyness), made my kids want my attention even more and hers
even less. The last night before we took her to the airport, my husband took her
out to a fancy, relatively expensive show in which all the performers are at
least 55 years old. She absolutely loved it, and it was definitely the one
bright spot in her visit with us.
In hindsight, I suppose we should have just said no to a visit
of more than a couple of days, since that was all we could really afford to
devote exclusively to her, and I probably should not have let my temper get to
the point of having the blunt conversation we had on the fifth day (I wasn't
rude, or offensive, but I was very direct about how her comments were affecting
me). Am I wrong, though, in thinking that she was discourteous in not being at
least somewhat respectful of the limits that I described as being necessary? Or
that she should have been more open and honest about what she expected and what
her physical limitations really were?
Guests0412-08
A few years ago, when I was 18 years old and in my first year
of university, I was actively involved in an online community. Most of the users
were much older than me, but there were a few users around my age and we became
very good e-friends. One of the girls, let's call her Nora, lived in Sydney, but
was coming down to Melbourne, my hometown, for a couple of weeks. We made plans
to meet up, and I sent her recommendations of things to do and see while in
Melbourne. One of the bookings she had made to stay at a hostel had fallen
through, so after asking permission of my parents (I did and still do live at
home), I offered for her to stay with us for the two nights.
My mum and I went to pick her up from the train station, and
she was fairly quiet, which I put down to her having had a busy day. She set
herself up in my room, and we got on alright, although it soon became clear that
our interest in the online community sadly did not extend to common interests in
other areas of our lives. Still, we enjoyed finally being able to meet each
other in person. The problems did not start until the next day.
The next morning, the rest of my family left early for their
respective jobs, schooling and appointments. I also had a class at university to
attend and had to be out of the house by 9:30am. My mum had expressly told me
that under no circumstance was Nora to be left in the house on her own, which
was entirely fair as she did not know her at all, and as she was running her own
business from home at the time, had sensitive documents in the office. I
politely told Nora that she would have to come with me when I left the house,
and all hell broke loose. She started raising her voice at me and storming
around angrily, asking why she couldn't be trusted. I was by myself in the house
at this point so I could only apologize and say that it was the wishes of my
mother. I finally managed to get her out of the house and to the train station,
where we had to wait for the train together. She spent the 10 minute wait
ignoring me, muttering about what a terrible host I was and how she was going to
tell all our friends about how I had kicked her out of the house, despite my
repeated apologies and explanation that as it was my parent's house, their rules
applied. When we got on the train she took a different carriage and ignored me.
By this time I had missed my first lecture, and in any case was too upset to
face my classmates.
In the afternoon we met at the train station as arranged, and
as far as Nora was concerned all the troubles of the morning were forgotten and
we were once again best friends. We went home, where she spent most of the
evening on our computer, and she left the next morning. I never spoke to her
online or in person after she left, and soon after left the community as the
in-fighting got too much - apparently quite a few of the users were as self
centered as she was. These days I do have good online friends who I have met in
person many times through another community, but I've never offered my parent's
house as accommodation since.
Guests0602-08
Page Last Updated September 18, 2008
|