Grow Up

Have you ever seen a mom in the supermarket, looking at whole grain oatmeal, with a six or seven year old child tugging at her sleeve? Mom! Mom!

She’s used to it so she usually ignores it but this time she says ‘what do you want sweetie?’ The toddler is begging for a family sized box of name brand sugary cereal.

“Mom can I have it?”

“No, kiddo, sorry.”

“Pleeeeeeease, mom?”


“But moooom, I want it!”

“I know, sweetheart, but it’s too big, it’s too expensive, and there’s too much sugar in it.”

“What if I get a smaller box?”

“It’s still too expensive and there’s still too much sugar in it.”

“But I’d really like it. I promise I’ll be good if you get it for me.”

“I expect you to be good whether I get it for you or not.”

“I’ll be good.”

“Ok, if you can find a smaller box that isn’t a name brand so it’s not as expensive and make sure sugar is third or lower on the list of ingredients you can get a box of cereal.”

“But I wanted THIS ONE.”

“That’s enough! We are not buying any cereal at all and I’m putting back your pop tarts.”

“But mooooom! Why are you being so mean to me?”

Sooo, yeah. That was me today. Apparently some boys just never get past seven years of age.

It’s funny because I don’t mind a certain amount of persistence, maybe one or two follow ups making sure I’ve got things straight and there’s no confusion, but there is nothing quite as baffling as “are you sure” as a follow up to “I’m not available.” Like… what? Why wouldn’t I be sure? It’s *my* schedule and *my* life I’m working with. Particularly if it’s a day-of request. I don’t know what people are expecting when they ask me if I’m sure. As if I’ll suddenly be like “omg I’m totally *not* sure that I’m currently on vacation and have no access to an incall right now and am two hours away from you. I’m not sure at all! Let me check.” Or that I will check and realize that everything in my life is a lie and I *am* in fact currently sitting on my thumbs with my table set up, makeup done, coconut oil all melted, and hot towels at the ready instead of with my partner at home depot in a sweat stained tank top. I’m so glad you checked so I could realize that I was totally clueless as to my own daily experience!

These are the things I don’t understand. That incredibly well prepared, kind, and respectful clients stress over being good enough while the octopi bro-dudes who hear every variation of ‘no’ I can think of in an hour get *SO* surprised when I refuse to see them again. WTF is up with the world that conscientious folks have to ask if they’re allowed to come back while the worst of the worst are baffled at their 86?

I cannot believe that an adult human could be so ignorantly persistent, dodging requests for screening info, inviting me to ‘meet half way’ to Spokane (Like, at a rest stop? wtf?), using the dreaded phrase ‘are you sure?’ and then be confused and upset when I ask them to cease all contact. Sigh. Of course this is simply to vent. I’m sure he’s either a very nice young man or some 12 year old wasting my time. Either way, my frustrations are simply that: mine.





Post Script: I wrote this some time ago and have since let it sit and bubble to make sure when I published it, it was in good fun and not in anger. I wrote it because I was annoyed and didn’t want to give the subject of my irritation the satisfaction of knowing how annoyed I was without getting some mileage out of it and hopefully giving you, my dear sweet reader, a chance to laugh with me. I have to shake my head and laugh a bit ruefully and remind myself to leave it to Rose. Rose who takes no shit and gives none, either. Rose who spends her warmth on kind regular visitors and holds an iron core for the rest. Thank you Rose, thank you readers, thank you regulars, and thank you little Timmy, for providing such entertainment and inspiration, ha!