So, my dad and I went to visit briefly with my mom, who’s dogwatching at my sister’s house during my sister’s and Mr. Perfect’s honeymoon. The visit went fine. It was what happened on the drive home that was disastrous.
My dad tends to take back roads to get off the main roads, and today was no exception. He turned onto a nearby street that has a Domino’s pizza at the corner and the newer location of the reading center I used to work for. (They’ve been there for quite a while, but back when I worked there, they were someplace else.)
Much to my horror, a group of my former coworkers was mingling by someone’s parked car as my dad slowed down the car due to someone’s pulling out of the Domino’s parking lot. I was trapped. I knew if I ducked my head, they’d notice, and that would just make everything worse. So I did the only thing I could do.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I’m going to kill you, you’re dead to me, you’re a horrible father, I hate you, you make me sick, I hate you, you’re horrible, you’re dead to me.” (I swear I don’t normally talk that way.) My voice came out in a low-volume monotone. I kept facing forward, hoping and praying that no one would look and see me, but I think they did. They probably heard me, too, since my dad always drives with his window down so he can smoke his cigar. He freakin’ sauntered the car past them, and they were right next to us. It was torture.
I’m feeling extreme hatred toward him right now, even though I know rationally that it probably wasn’t his fault. I just can’t figure out how to reorient the anger off of him. Too bad. If anyone has any suggestions, please feel free to share. I’m open to helpful ideas here.
I guess I really shouldn’t be mad at my dad. I ought to be mad at my former employers and coworkers. I was always too crazy for them. I bent over backward to hide it, but it was as if my employers could see (and were always looking) deep into my soul. That’s kind of a scuzzy way to treat your employee. I always forced myself to act “normal” and “professional”, but they could see deep into me, and they knew the truth in my heart–that I was terrified of them, and that acting normal and professional was incredibly sressful for me, especially since I was always under a microscope.
I’d approached them about coming back to work for them last summer (I think it was). They rejected me, and I sobbed while listening to sad music. I was too crazy for them still. But I really think here that I should hate them instead of letting myself feel inadequate.
Actually, speaking of my employers, I’ve “roasted” them in several stories that I’ve written for NYC Midnight. The pen is always mightier than the sword. They’re a snobbish married couple, gorgeous California blondes who crave power and status while pretending to care about kids with learning issues. (Trust me, it’s all about the Benjamins.) None of my coworkers saw them that way… or if they did, they were smart enough not to say as much. (You really have to wonder.)
I’m feeling better now, I guess. Ugh.