I know this isn't my house. I know that I am nothing more than a guest, and because of this, I should act accordingly. I am not loud, especially after 8 when people have to go to sleep. I have no reign over anything... if I am watching television and someone comes in, they get control of the remote. I buy my own soda and try to eat as little of their food as possible. I get ready for work hours before I have to because I can't take up bathroom space after everyone gets home in the afternoon, incase they need it. I sleep in the corner of a mouse, flea and mold infested basement and haven't complained to any of them once, despite the fact that I am being eaten alive and haven't stopped itching in weeks.
With all that taken into consideration, you'd think that I am a perfect houseguest. I am very grateful that they are letting me stay here and have no problem playing by the rules that my dad has set for me (be quiet, don't eat them out of house and home, give up control of the TV, etc.)... that is until the "talk" I had with my dad yesterday.
I get home from work. I sit down to watch television with him and eat my supper. The begining of the conversation goes like this.
"Jesus, how many cheeseburgers did you get?"
"Two."
"You're in need of a serious reality check, pal"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
It seems that sometime between the time I left and the time I returned, the hundred or so conversations I've had with him about what my plans are finally hit him. The way the situation was described to me was that I get to stay here pretty much free since my bout with Janet left me with 5 dollars to my name. I would work at UPS until I could save enough for a car and get medical benefits so I could then get a day job which I would save most of so that by next year I could go to school without busting my ass. Turns out I was supposed to get a full time job first, pay my dad's girlfriend a hundred bucks a week while saving for my own place. School and a car figure no where in that equation.
For starters, for a hundred bucks a week, I could live in the place I was at before I left. I would be a bit less furnished, but I wouldn't have to tiptoe around anyone. Second, now that I am working for about 175 a week, how the hell does he expect me to save for anything if I'm spending 100 a week to be treated like a second class citizen. Ok, I'll put 75 bucks a week in the bank, minus my phone bill, minus the cost of living and I may just have enough saved to get a car and complete phase one of my plan by January... of 2008. I told him that I could do 50 a week (I'll just have to start saving for vegas after I get the full time job) and he was ok with that. However, the way I tell it and the way it happened are completely different. No matter what I said, his retort was either I'm wrong or I eat a lot. He has arguments and discussions on his terms. He gets what he is going to say and what your response should be stuck in his head, and if you deviate from that, he gets super pissed and just ends it.
Now, here's the point to all this. I just don't think it's fair that in the same breath as "you pay rent" that the phrase "not your house, not your rules" occurs. I had the same issue with Janet. I wasn't paying 400 bucks a month to go to bed at 10 and work around her "dude schedule" (where anytime she had someone over, I had to leave) just as I won't pay 400 a month here to sleep in the plague, only get to shower when no one is home, and live my life depending on who is in what room.
And as I write this, it turns out the kids drank all my fuckin soda.
I'll write a happy post about work in a bit, I just needed to get this off my chest.
With all that taken into consideration, you'd think that I am a perfect houseguest. I am very grateful that they are letting me stay here and have no problem playing by the rules that my dad has set for me (be quiet, don't eat them out of house and home, give up control of the TV, etc.)... that is until the "talk" I had with my dad yesterday.
I get home from work. I sit down to watch television with him and eat my supper. The begining of the conversation goes like this.
"Jesus, how many cheeseburgers did you get?"
"Two."
"You're in need of a serious reality check, pal"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
It seems that sometime between the time I left and the time I returned, the hundred or so conversations I've had with him about what my plans are finally hit him. The way the situation was described to me was that I get to stay here pretty much free since my bout with Janet left me with 5 dollars to my name. I would work at UPS until I could save enough for a car and get medical benefits so I could then get a day job which I would save most of so that by next year I could go to school without busting my ass. Turns out I was supposed to get a full time job first, pay my dad's girlfriend a hundred bucks a week while saving for my own place. School and a car figure no where in that equation.
For starters, for a hundred bucks a week, I could live in the place I was at before I left. I would be a bit less furnished, but I wouldn't have to tiptoe around anyone. Second, now that I am working for about 175 a week, how the hell does he expect me to save for anything if I'm spending 100 a week to be treated like a second class citizen. Ok, I'll put 75 bucks a week in the bank, minus my phone bill, minus the cost of living and I may just have enough saved to get a car and complete phase one of my plan by January... of 2008. I told him that I could do 50 a week (I'll just have to start saving for vegas after I get the full time job) and he was ok with that. However, the way I tell it and the way it happened are completely different. No matter what I said, his retort was either I'm wrong or I eat a lot. He has arguments and discussions on his terms. He gets what he is going to say and what your response should be stuck in his head, and if you deviate from that, he gets super pissed and just ends it.
Now, here's the point to all this. I just don't think it's fair that in the same breath as "you pay rent" that the phrase "not your house, not your rules" occurs. I had the same issue with Janet. I wasn't paying 400 bucks a month to go to bed at 10 and work around her "dude schedule" (where anytime she had someone over, I had to leave) just as I won't pay 400 a month here to sleep in the plague, only get to shower when no one is home, and live my life depending on who is in what room.
And as I write this, it turns out the kids drank all my fuckin soda.
I'll write a happy post about work in a bit, I just needed to get this off my chest.