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My older daughter is in a production of The Nutcracker this year (as am I...don't ask). She has rehearsals on Saturday. Since the school is a 45 minute or so drive from the house, when I take her, I wait for her to get done.
I am doing exactly this, minding my own business, when a couple of old women stomp up. Only one of them spoke (the other stood with a perma-catbutt face). Here's the gist.
Dramatis Personae
Me: Your ever-lovin' simian English teacher
GMB: Grandma McBitchypants
GMB: It's 4:30! Why aren't they done?
Me: They aren't done today until 5:30.
GMB: No! They're done at 4:30!
Me: According to the schedule, they're done at 5:30 this week, and 4:30 next week.
GMB: We have plans! They're supposed to be done!
Me: Well, the schedule says that they're going until 5:30 today.
GMB: I have to get (grandson) out of there. We have plans! They're supposed to be done at 4:30!
Me: ...
GMB: I can't believe how much time this takes! He said he wanted to try out, and I didn't think he'd get a part. I guess they take everyone.
Me: Well, they gave me a part [[I'm in a Chinese dragon, for the record.]]
GMB: (Insert 5 more minutes of warfgarbling.)
Seriously, you stupid, old bat. There's a damn schedule. They give out a new schedule every week. There's a whole packet of the things. Take one. Post it on your fridge. Post it on your damn bathroom mirror. Staple it to your forehead. Whatever you do, shut the hell up about your plans. You think I wanted to spend my Saturday sitting here? I don't complain because it's important to my kid. Maybe, just maybe you could think about someone other than your flabby self for thirty seconds and support your grandson doing something he wants to do.
I really, really hate people sometimes.
I am doing exactly this, minding my own business, when a couple of old women stomp up. Only one of them spoke (the other stood with a perma-catbutt face). Here's the gist.
Dramatis Personae
Me: Your ever-lovin' simian English teacher
GMB: Grandma McBitchypants
GMB: It's 4:30! Why aren't they done?
Me: They aren't done today until 5:30.
GMB: No! They're done at 4:30!
Me: According to the schedule, they're done at 5:30 this week, and 4:30 next week.
GMB: We have plans! They're supposed to be done!
Me: Well, the schedule says that they're going until 5:30 today.
GMB: I have to get (grandson) out of there. We have plans! They're supposed to be done at 4:30!
Me: ...
GMB: I can't believe how much time this takes! He said he wanted to try out, and I didn't think he'd get a part. I guess they take everyone.
Me: Well, they gave me a part [[I'm in a Chinese dragon, for the record.]]
GMB: (Insert 5 more minutes of warfgarbling.)
Seriously, you stupid, old bat. There's a damn schedule. They give out a new schedule every week. There's a whole packet of the things. Take one. Post it on your fridge. Post it on your damn bathroom mirror. Staple it to your forehead. Whatever you do, shut the hell up about your plans. You think I wanted to spend my Saturday sitting here? I don't complain because it's important to my kid. Maybe, just maybe you could think about someone other than your flabby self for thirty seconds and support your grandson doing something he wants to do.
I really, really hate people sometimes.
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