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Thanks for the Giant Fuck You!







"Ever since I moved full-time to the country, I get this weird sensation," I said to my friend, Jane, this morning. I burst into her bakery/cafe right after an encounter at the post office, the #1 social hub in my community, my eyes bulging out of their sockets.

While Jane kneaded her famous artisan 7-grain bread, she looked up and asked, "What kinda sensation is that?"

"The mixture between incredulity, hysteria, anger, uncontrollable laughter over absurdity and stupidity overlaid with the urge to flee at all costs. Like how I arrived here and am still calming down."

The past three years, I've been confronted with situations which are so ludicrous, so funny and so insulting that I freeze up in pain. Partly from deeply embedded laughter as well as shock from the chutzpah.

You'd think, at this age, with my life experience, I went through this before moving here full-time?

NOPE.

I don't even have a name for this sensation. Hell, I don't even know how to adequately describe it - too many emotions at once where I short-circuit! As a result, I went to the only place where I can get terrific advice at a moment's notice: twitter.

Twitter has been my Number One source for news, trends, advice, Macbook assistance as well as my very own personal matchmaker, having met my boyfriend there. However, I was recently let down when soliciting advice about a word to describe this conundrum.

As I blogged several times earlier, an elected town official entered my home without being invited in and extorted money from me, money I need. He had no intentions of repaying me, an elected official with a good salary, pension plan and benefits including medical - everything I don't have. Shortly thereafter, I attended a Town Hall meeting and told them to put it on the record that he extorted money.

They didn't.

I spoke to the Town Mayor who gave me a bullshit runaround. They still didn't put my statement in the minutes.

Sounds slightly illegal?

During this time, I was demonized, vilified and practically tarred and feathered. When my boyfriend spent a week with me here, there was a sudden reversal and, in front of him, the town's officials called me a hero and THANKED me for saving that elected official's life as he went into rehab.

I still didn't get my money back.

I've no idea how effective that rehab was and I really don't care. He finished it in a record five days and still has his job, a steady source of income, a pension plan and benefits including medical.

I don't.

He's been back three weeks now and I've never received any thanks or reimbursement of my money. Nothing.

This morning, at the #1 community hub, the post office I kibitzed with the postal worker and lo and behold, guess who enters? Yes. The elected official.

He didn't even say hello to me. He had an ample five seconds to say something. Instead, nothing.

I said, "Hello," and sauntered out, walking by him. Right before the door slammed behind me, he shouted my name.

WTF?

That's how I ended up at Jane's bakery/cafe with the strangest look on my face.

I guess I over-reacted. I mean, all's forgiven because HE got the help he needed. No apology or reimbursement is required.

Now, in my book, that's a giant FUCK YOU.

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2 comments:

Michael Seese said...

It's sad that rich, white guys can do whatever the want in this land we call America. (Sometimes, I'm sorry that I'm a ric... well, upper-middle class white guy.)

maura stone said...

I doubt he's rich. However, he's sad and white so 2 outta 3 ain't bad.