Tired of Making Nice

I can't help but wonder how many of you are in the same boat I am tonight: the just plain tired boat.

It started with trying to clean up at the shop and I thought I would be nice and clean the coffee area and make George a cup of coffee. As for myself, it is too hot down there to drink coffee. Nothing has been touched since pretty much for three months since I got really sick from the food. As usual, the water pump was barely working so water was at a trickle, everything was moldy and the sole source to wash anything is a small bathroom sink full of dishes from the last attempt. I have no idea why I didn't stop right there and return to my chair and think: screw it. There are no sponges and I cannot even find the paper towels. So, after much cussing, George takes over after deciding there is in fact something wrong with the pump. Did I mention that my hands are hurting so much I am tempted to let them remain in claws rather than straightening my fingers? Probably not. I never do.

I must have cleared a whole garbage can of stuff off the table, shredded the important stuff and finally got down to bare wood where I needed some paper towels to clean with. That involves getting around the perpetually angry bear. By the time I managed to get it clean and he came out with the coffee pot, one little swear fit from him and I just went home.

I know, I know. I am supposed to make nice.

However, several of things I cleared off the table and put away seriously put a dent in my cheerful demeanor. One of them was a letter from the county three years ago where someone had "turned me in" for having someone renting in the building. I didn't. I never have. It was just one thing I had to contend with on a weekly basis to keep a small business running that impacts absolutely no one. I don't even have any signs. The #$%^&* have made sure that I am turned down to even replace the signs that existed when we bought the building. Every time I turned around, until the cancer put me in bed for almost a year, it was something else, some other charge I had to stop to take care of that always proved to be false and time and money consuming.

At this point, you might think my community might come around and lend a shoulder to at least cry upon and you would be really wrong. The two people I helped or at least tried to help make some money turned out to be the worse. One spent six months getting me fired after she discovered the job I went to apply for actually hired me first because I was qualified for the position of psychic and then had her son vandalize my shop while she sat in my neighbors driveway keeping watch over my house. The other one broke out my back car window because I hadn't been able to give him a bumper sticker he wanted because it was packed for a show and I just happened to have one on the back window of my car. Both did everything in their power to destroy the business I had spent 30 years building. That's the kind of help you get in this business. I was even kicked to the curb in professional associations because I was falling on hard times. Oh, I seem to have too much on my plate after the hurricane destroyed all the trees in the front of the shop making it impassible and I spent 3 weeks without power or phone and missed the precious board meeting.

It doesn't stop there. I was kicked to the curb by the University because I refused to break the oath of confidentiality and tell them if someone lied on their life insurance form. The professor died and I suffered for the first time from cancer and a crippling operation eliminating my career. The doctor I worked for finally managed to drink himself to death and nicely made certain his wife was in charge of all recommendations. That made sure I worked at Walmart. Seems even with pictures from the police of her daughter pawning her jewelry, she had to get a list of my psychic friends to get readings from and the first question she asked each of them was, "Do you think Janice would steal from me?" I was the only person not stealing from the #$%^&*. It did make certain my "party" business tanked as no one wants someone in the house that has sticky fingers and rumors travel much faster than truth in psychic circles.

And what about my previous career, you ask. One day I fell backwards across three concrete steps and broke my tail bone in 3 places. It was a miracle I didn't break my back. The lovely doctor forgot to file the insurance reports and the company, Fortune 500, thought I was faking the accident since the doctor also refused to answer the phone and verify I was being treated. I was fired with a bad review making it impossible to get another job. Refusing to play touchy feeley with the manager was another reason I was not getting another job. But, those are the things you aren't supposed to talk about.

Those of you who think that working hard with integrity will buy you the "American Dream" are delusional. All you ever had to be was pretty enough that men in power took an interest in f"g you and you refused and then you could try out your new career scrubbing toilets. That's why I had to reinvent myself so many times. That's why in the end I had to start my own business. That's why I am way past making nice for anyone.

It doesn't stop there. I have spent 40 years dealing with someone with a hair trigger temper who worked 60 hours a week and slept all weekend while I tried to keep everything running and in the last 20 years build a business so we would have a nice retirement. As usual, cancer laid me out and everything quickly fell apart, including me.

Yes, I am so very tired of making nice. I am so very tired. How many of you are in the same boat? How many of you have been living the American Nightmare of 40 years thanks to a bunch of rich folk who just decided to play god with your life simply because they could; women who were afraid their husbands would look at you, men who were pissed you wouldn't sleep with them, colleagues who were afraid you'd show them up, people who just wanted what you had but didn't want to work for it and family who reminded you daily just how worthless you were because for some strange reason you just never got ahead anywhere? Are you tired of making nice, yet? I am.