Little Oskar survived, my fellow cast members ad-libbed heroically until I reappeared, pale and shaken, to finish the scene with them, and the wardrobe lady was bought several stiff drinks by our assistant stage manager. Yes, my father and his wife. I moved into my grandparents house after my grandfather got dementia and had to go to a retirement home. My uncle controls the property and let’s me live in it so long as I maintain it and do not let anyone I let in do damage (or it’s my butt on the line). Well I put some rules in place 2 months after I moved in. I asked things like 1. please put your dishes in the sink so I can load the dishwasher 2.
Last week, Grandma was on her last day staying with us (a two week stay) and my parents, sister and I thought it had gone really well. We’d all gotten along, had dinner together when we could as Sister and I are working full-time this summer (I work 50–60 hours a week easily between internship and my paying job) and generally, we all seemed to be in a good mood most of the time. We thought things were fine. So last Thursday, when I got home from my sales appointment at my job I was happy to sit down and eat dinner with my mom, sister and grandma; the first one I’d been able to be a part of all week. The chicken was good, the tension between my grandma and mother was not. I didn’t know why it was happening but after we finished eating, my sister took me outside to see the kittens and to fill me in.
Apparently, earlier that evening while I was at work, Mom and Grandma had a fight. According to Grandma, the visit we all thought was going swimmingly was “the worst I have ever been treated in my life”. According to Grandma, no one, not even her in her seventy-seven years of life had ever been so unkind to her as my parents, sister and I had the last two weeks. In her own words, my sister and I treat her “like shit” and never spend time with her and are terrible granddaughters who don’t love her. (Never mind that we both work full time and she never came out of her room save to eat and use the restroom most days she was here.) She also cussed out my mother and said she and my father, (the son-in-law of thirty years) treat her “like shit” and other colorful words I’d prefer not to repeat.
We were all seated at long tables of probably 20–30 people a table. I’m thinking this is going to be the best meal ever because look at how they have us seated, the passing of pasta, and other dishes will be endless! Then the waiter came out. He had one plate. It had 5 string beans on it, a dollop of mashed potatoes and 1, yes, 1 tiny slice of roast beef. I saw the beans and there really were only 5. I’m not kidding. A bunch of us thought it must be a special meal prepared for someone with dietary restrictions. Nope. That plate was for half the table. There was another waiter at the other end, she laid down the same small size plate with the exact same 5 beans, tiny sliced piece of beef, and 1 dollop of mashed potato, and that was for the other half of the table.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! I was so disappointed and pissed because the nimrods at the ends of the table ate the food on the plates and didn’t share. My coworker said at work a few days later,”It was supposed to be a family style Italian dinner where you take a bite and pass the plate on to the next person.” Ok fine, but where’s the fucking food then for 75 people?? 5 freaking string beans, a dollop of mashed potatoes and a joke of a piece of meat are not going to satiate any adult. And did you think maybe people should have been told to take a bite and pass the plate?? Because that’s not normal wedding reception dinner protocol to take a bite and pass the plate. Do you think we even got a bite of dessert?
If you have any strong smells please open a window (note: my dad’s wife is a big weed smoker and last time they were here I had to air out the entire upstairs because it stank like week and they couldn’t be bothered to open a window), etc. None of my request were unreasonable. It was just help me with cleanliness (because I just started a new job I couldn’t be picking after people) and don’t do any damage. (At this point I should mention that they stayed here, especially my dad, because he hated staying with his wife’s brother when they came into town.