Life at home

This whole thing is giving me bad co-op flashbacks...

What's the countdown, again? August?

We're only <read with a loud whine> HAAAAALLLLFFF WAAAAAYYYY!

of COURSE i'll be posting the minutes here, reg. me and kris are sick of whining just to each other, plus it can get, ahem, dangerous. since we live with the one that we whine about and all...
there will be a quiz afterwards.

ready!

I used to be able to work from home. Now the dingbat stays at home ALL THE TIME. Whenever i get out into the kitchen, he's there within seconds, because he needs something right then and there. Of course we're in each other's way, but Mr. Instant Gratification is reminded that kitchen exists and must go instantly when he hears me there.
most recent dialogue, 10 seconds ago:

Me unloading dishwasher. Dimwit comes out.

D: "Do you need help?"
Me: "No thanks, I've got it. We'd be only be in each other's way."

Dimwit heard me, but it didn't register. He proceeds to "help" of course bumping into me three times. I left. Let him finish. I got such a surge of adrenalin from that that if I stayed five seconds longer, I'd have killed him.

Why is it that every tiny little thing drives me ballistic with this guy? I've never hated anyone so much for no rational reason i can think of. I just physically cannot stand him. gah

i feel the same way about a guy who sits near me.

Cement Head gives me agita fives days a week, every week.
he says the dumbest crap imaginable, he whistles, he sings, he hums.
every other word out of his mouth is "UHHH".
sometimes there are like 5 UHHH's in a row -- apparently when he gets a brain cramp.

everybody has various degrees of hatred for him... yet he refuses to look for another job

oh, those people are everywhere, aren't they. at every single workplace or household or neighborhood. I think it's a test from higher powers. i don't have such person at work, so I got one planted at the house. In every life there's at least one. There must be some higher purpose behind it.

Meanwhile, the dimwit here decided to cook. middle of the workday, he already spent half an hour making his breakfast at 11:30am (he's LOUD in the kitchen), then tea, and now lunch at 3:30pm. Making pasta with garlic. He asked us to use the fan while cooking. When Kris forgot once, he came out and turned it on without a word. He doesn't use it. Ever. Slams the cabinets and after each stir of whatever he's cooking, he beats the wooden spoon on the side of the pan for the longest time. Every minute or two. I cannot even compose a stupid email. I blast music at myself and eventually get a headache.
I went to the kitchen and asked him to turn the fan on, as I'm trying to work here and it all goes right into my room. He looked almost insulted.
He asked us to tell him every little thing we need or want from him - from cleaning or any rules of where things should go or how they shoud be done. When we do, he looks as if we were attacking him or asking him for a huge favor. I dread talking to him at all. In fact if he's in the kitchen i usually just wait him out so that I don't have to see him at all.

He seems not to go to work at all anymore. he's always here. I've no idea why, because neither me nor littlek talk to him much or he to us and atmosphere is so tense you could cut it with a knife. Perhaps he's completely oblivious and has no clue or he's sado-masochistic. or both. August cannot come soon enough.

It's so stupid. I don't want to be agitated by little things like somebody using a kitchen. I used to leave my door open. Kris doesn't bother me in the kitchen, neither did my former roommates. It's this arshehole that pushes my every button for some reason. I am a rational creature and this impossibility to control my rage is also driving me nuts.
I'll just have to go to work every day I guess. Or kill him.

Doesn't naming help though? I feel so much better when I say "dimwit" out loud!

yep.
its even better if you use cuss words...

I've got one of those people. Had to deal with her today. Just a grotesque personage in every sense, and I wouldn't even mention the physical if her psyche wasn't so much more hideous.

"Muffin top," we call her, for the obvious reason, and it's very exposed (with thong strap, even) under old sweater from childhood and woefully undersized pants, rolling around the open backs of the chairs we're forced to sit in all day.

So the obvious first physical impression is out of the way, and would be forgotten if not for the grating voice, the stupid intruding questions, the loud mouth-breathing, the relentless rapid leg-shaking (this is something that drives me absolutely batshit, can't stand shaking legs in someone I've got to share any kind of seat with -- bounce bounce bounce like I'm riding in a car with a flat tire), the subtle bigotry, the complete disregard for other people, the lack of insight or wit with regards to any subject whatsoever, the self-righteous attitudes ("I'm saving myself," says she, "Riiight," wants to answer I, "for who or what I can't possibly imagine")...

Where was I? Oh, right, had this thing sitting nearby for two hours today. Shaking. I've told her about it before, but people know I'm a gruff kidder, so she thought it was a joke, god I'd like to drop a sauna rock into that gaping plumbers crack and have it cauterized shut forever.




All right, carry on.

sauna rock... interesting idea.

for some reason it feels good to know that it's sometimes a normal reaction... that there are people that drive others batshit crazy and that i am not insane, inhumane, self-absorbed, intolerant monster, or at least not all the time.

the muffin top should be able to get rid of though. does she come in contact with clients at all? can it become a matter of dress code? or hygiene? a friend of mine was asked to come to work more 'covered up'...but she worked at the hospital.

i can't imagine having to spend 2 hours next to Dimwit. I'd be shaking too. In fact sometimes it's enough when he's just in the kitchen.

There should be colonies, ahem, I mean co-ops or communities where they could live and work together. I'm sure Dimwit, Cement Head, and Muffin Top would get along most famously.

The muffin will have to be covered in clinics. Thing is, I don't think it's an attempt to be fashionable in any way, I think it's just that she's stuffing herself into the same (dirty, stained) sweaters as a decade ago -- so whoever has to break it to her that she's going to need some new clothes may be in for an unpleasant experience.

At any rate, if my little grant/fellowship/whatever it is goes through, I'll never have to work with her.

Which is good, because I can get very nasty when my tolerance runs out.

Reminds me of the time our then small but now world renowned clinical lab had to deal with a fellow from afar who, well, reeked, from lack of personal hygiene. Now this didn't bother me, as I have just about zip sense of smell, I thought he was kind of nice, if quiet, but it ruined other folks' day.... Our office manager got the nod to tell him... er, instruct him...
It took more than one talk.

I felt sorry for both of them.

Muffin toppy sounds like she'll be facing a life of unhappy employment - there must be a story there. Not that I would not be berserk in your place, pdog. (Tell me she's not a veterinary student, oh, please..)

On dimwit, I try to be quiet because I know lil'K and dag are decisive about the August date, and can vent in comfort here. Still, dag, staying away from home to work elsewhere because of his [mountainous obtuseness and noise machinelike aggravational presence] presence that doesn't listen -

from afar it seems you don't make him listen - because of course you are getting madder and madder at his not listening, and are walking away before you turn into a thousand pieces of rage.
I see you are speaking up, but it's somehow not clear enough. Have you ever considered, seriously, yelling? I don't yell a lot myself, can't remember that I've ever done that. However, I haven't lived with this insensitivity.

The kitchen tale also reminds me of - who was it, just the other day, talking about the landlady who slams the door all the time. Oh, yes, Terry Doo Hoo....

Makes me think of a stay at the Casa Bruja -- excuse me, Casa Maruja -- in Santiago...

adding,

.. Oh, not yelling, but standing your ground. The thing with the clumsy bumping when he 'helped' after you said no to his help - could be pointed out to him in a somewhat stern voice. Possibly more than once. The second time yelling would be appropriate.

You two are sensitive well tuned individuals, and he seems like a forever puppy with no antennae/ears. Oh, and plus whatever cultural/gender stuff is going on.

osso, i haven't yelled at anyone in my life. it is not a skill i wish to learn. but i hear you on standing my ground. there is a big obstacle though.

i run away from him when i am starting to shake. and that can happen within seconds, unfortunately. when that happens i am not able to speak to him in any way, least of all be assertive and reasonable. at that time i am in complete disbelief, want to cry and laugh at the same time. i will address it at the "house meeting" and i know kris had to dealt with exactly the same a few times and will chime in. but if talking doesn't solve it, i'm afraid i will keep walking out and closing my door on him.
i am in a conflict resolution field. i was trained to be assertive and stand my ground. i should be able to do it, but with this guy, it's physical. it's tremor, it's on the verge of exploding. i can manage my boss, i'm very good with services - i don't get screwed that easily anymore... but with my mother and my roommate i am helpless. with my mother because it's so close to home, plus because she's the singlemost important and loved person in my life, and with the roommate, well, i don't really know my. again and again i find myself physically incapable of dealing with him the way i was trained.
i would love to stand my ground. but i'm afraid that killing him is likelier chance right now. oy. i can promise that i'll try more. really. count to 37 or so and then speak when i'm not shaking anymore.

I've met 'em too.

The kind of people who make your skin crawl. Repulsive pheromones.

The kind you'd like to slap in the face as you grit through your teeth "What (slap) the (slap) f-uck (slap) do (slap) you (slap) want?!

(slap for good measure)

I was going say *social work* him, but there's no way when your feeling like that. Or at least there's no way when I'm feeling like that.

When angry, count 10. When very angry, swear.


Or so said Mr. Clemens or somebody....

Hahaha!!

For the record he turned on the fan while I was cooking BEFORE he asked us to use the fan while we cooked. It wouldn't be an iddue to me, but when he asked us too he'd just spent an hour bitching because we didn't speak up about our issues with him (like he didn't speak up about the fan that first time). And, later it became ver more annoying because he doesn't use the fan when he cooks. Even when he cooks stinky bacala.

I like the nicknames. Personally, I like Batshit, Dahsa. But, I also think Lord Farquad fits nicely. Dimwit just doesn't have enough punch.

the most exasperating thing about the Dimwits, Muffin Tops and Cement Heads of the world is that they are in a constant state of blissful cluelessness...