Despite my supercrap skills in MS Paint, I have attempted to draw you a map of my office so that you could fully appreciate the pain I am about to describe.
So now you can see my exact location, directly across from Infantile, Harpy & Shrew, LLP, and just two cubes away from Grandma Secretary.
Thus far, I’ve been able to maintain a friendly relationship with Grandma S. She was our notary before I got my commission, and she’s helped me figure out the intricacies of probate filing. She’s talked about the days when she burned her bra, and she’s generally kinda crusty and funny, and before May 1st, I thought she was just fantastic. Even after that, I thought if we could just stay away from that subject, we could still be friends.
I have a bad habit of doggedly seeing the best in everyone, and refusing to admit the possibility that someone is Not A Nice Person until they absolutely shove my face in it.
Which has now happened.
Yesterday, Grandma S. was going on another tear about “illegals”. She has an attorney in her firm who is completely in accord with her on this issue, and the two of them were standing around by Grandma’s desk (see map) going onandonandonandonandonandon.
Poor Grandma S. Her son has to pay obscene rent in Santa Monica just so his kids can go to “a good” (read: white) school. Poor Attorney Friend. By the time her son gets to college, he’s gonna have to speak Spanish.
Ready? 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .
The final straw for my strained-but-holding optimism was Grandma S.’s delightful segué, in which she said, “Well, did you hear about that Black congressman? The one who stole all that money?” Because, y’know, it’s totally logical to link illegal immigrants (or “Mexicans”, which is Grandma’s synonym for “illegal”) with a corrupt congressperson who happens to be Black even though the two issues are COMPLETELY UNRELATED.
This was the point at which I walked away to tremble and sputter with rage by Friend Secretary’s desk. She went over to my desk to listen, and came back looking pissed off.
I don’t handle these things gracefully. I wanted to go over there and say something, but I know myself well enough to know that whatever I said wasn’t going to be calm or polite or maybe even coherent. So I bit my tongue and instead went home and picked a stupid fight with Husband. As one does.
When I came in this morning, Friend Secretary told me that they had been talking shit again before I arrived. But she dealt with it beautifully. As she passed them on her way to the coffee room, she quietly but firmly said “Shut up.”
And I haven’t heard a word about it all day. Though Grandma S. did stop by to ask me if I was okay. “You’re so quiet today!”
I didn’t tell her it was because she’s not my friend anymore. But that’s why.