Irritating.
I went to pick the kids up at swim camp yesterday, and ran into one of the B&M School moms in the foyer. Apparently, her daughter is in Miss E's level. I said a bright, "Hi!" hoping that I could talk to her about setting up an after camp playdate for the girls, as they are great friends. These kids keep such serious schedules during the summer, that simply playing with their friends has to be negotiated like a peace treaty. Anyway, this mom, we'll call her Meg to protect her identity, has had lunch with me several times, called my cell phone to arrange pick ups, and chatted with me in the hallways at school all year. When I saw her yesterday, she looked at me with a completely empty expression, and said, "Oh, you're Miss E's babysitter, right?"
Like I'm some college kid who watched the kids while their parents catch a movie.
Then, after I'd shrugged it off, and fruitlessly tried to open a dialogue about a playdate, she says, "I'm sorry, what is your name?"
I smile (politely, I hope), and say, "Cam."
She gestures to her sternum and says, "Meg," like I didn't know.
And I wanted for all the world to say, "Yeah, I know."
Mostly, I just ignore this kind of thing, but I go to the trouble of learning all the parents and nannies of the kids with whom J&E are friends. I think it's polite, as we often are caring for each other's children/charges. It bugs me that Meg couldn't be bothered remembering mine, when she knows J&E's mom's name, and she's only around for special occasions. The same tends to be true throughout the school moms. I feel like if I were an actual parent, I might rate a greeting by name, but I guess since I'm just the person who picks up the carpool, provides the cupcakes, supervises the playdates, and takes them to Wednesday lunches at the bagel store, I'm not worthy.
Oh, the complaining. I know. I do. But it just bugs me, y'know?
Like I'm some college kid who watched the kids while their parents catch a movie.
Then, after I'd shrugged it off, and fruitlessly tried to open a dialogue about a playdate, she says, "I'm sorry, what is your name?"
I smile (politely, I hope), and say, "Cam."
She gestures to her sternum and says, "Meg," like I didn't know.
And I wanted for all the world to say, "Yeah, I know."
Mostly, I just ignore this kind of thing, but I go to the trouble of learning all the parents and nannies of the kids with whom J&E are friends. I think it's polite, as we often are caring for each other's children/charges. It bugs me that Meg couldn't be bothered remembering mine, when she knows J&E's mom's name, and she's only around for special occasions. The same tends to be true throughout the school moms. I feel like if I were an actual parent, I might rate a greeting by name, but I guess since I'm just the person who picks up the carpool, provides the cupcakes, supervises the playdates, and takes them to Wednesday lunches at the bagel store, I'm not worthy.
Oh, the complaining. I know. I do. But it just bugs me, y'know?
Labels: The Carpet Bag
posted by Cameron | 1:55 PM
4 Comments:
I'm sorry, Jeeves... we just can't be bothered to learn the staff's "names". So, you will be called whatever the first nanny was called. Hope you don't mind...
You have every right to complain. That woman is just obnoxious. Sorry you had to deal.
Try feeding her child a *lot* of sugar the next time there's a play date. Bet she'll remember your name after that! Seriously, though, some people are just tiresome. Since you can't actually be rude to her in return if you want to keep up play dates, just smile and imagine lighting her on fire with the awesome power of your brain. It's cathartic, and hey, maybe some day it will work...
When I worked at the coffee there was this annoying guy who came in and ordered a half orange and half carrot fresh-squeezed juice every morning just at the time that we had our first Peaks Island Ferry rush and before the second barista showed up for the morning. The line would pile up behind him while I made his irritating order which he clearly ordered only to piss me off in the morning.
So I just imagined that each carrot that I fed into the juicer was one of his limbs. And then the oranges: his head. It always made me feel better.
But I'm sick like that, so your mileage may vary.
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