Ja, ja, das ist sehr gut!
Yesterday I went into the town to get various things you can’t pick up in small Greek villages, like internet cards. It costs a prohibitive €4 for an hours access in the local internet cafes here, or you can pay €10 for twenty hours access. Before I went, I asked him if he wanted anything. ‘Why, yes, a printer cartridge’. So I jotted down the details and went. I have already bought him one before, and I remember that argument quite well – I paid 12 when I should have paid 10 and in Germany they cost 6 and Christ what an idiot I am. (me in response: For God’s sake, it’s 2 pissing little euros!). So I went to the shop and bought the cartridge. It cost 12 again. I though ‘Oops. Oh well, he didn’t issue me with orders to find the cheapest one!’ And the woman had already gone and put it in anyway, and quite frankly, I can’t be arsed to run around town looking for cheap printer cartridges.
He wasn’t happy at all. ’12 euros? Do you know how expensive that is?’. Cue a carbon copy of the argument above, but this time with the notion that ‘I told you no more than 10!’ (he hadn’t. And something he said three months ago doesn’t really count, in my opinion). I pointed out that it was really quite cheap. ‘I’m only giving you six. You use the printer as well, anyway’
‘I hardly think two pages counts’
‘But you could print out 200 pages!’
‘I don’t have 200 pages I want to print’
‘I’m not paying’
‘Why not?’
‘Take it back. Find a cheaper one’
‘What? No! You fuck off and take it back! The bus costs about the same!’ We continued in this vein for a while, until I got fed up. ‘Look, ok, I’ll pay for half of it if we can stop this ridiculous argument and talk about something else.
‘Emma, no! Don’t be so easy with your money!’
For Fuck’s Sake, I think, is adequate commentary here. I sat there and wondered what to say, settling on ‘well, make your bloody mind up!’
‘So, let’s look at your mobile phone!’ – I had got a new mobile phone WITH CAMERA! Unfortunately, the camera is shite and there’s nothing to link it up to the computer. I could order something off the internet, but you know, £2 is reasonable for a USB linkup thing. £18 P&P is fucking ridiculous. Moneygrabbing bastards. Can’t they just send it in the normal post without FedEx? Why? Why? Why? (Why not? ha, ha, ha). Anyway, back on thread: this is typical of him. I’m quite used to it now, and at least it signalled the end of the argument.
Today was a debacle. But no more farcical than an average day here. Arising at the civilised hour of 2pm (and with good reason, if The Grauniad is to be believed - http://www.guardian.co.uk/weekend/story/0,3605,1276787,00.html), I came to my desk in the front room to be greeted with the sight of a bin on top of my computer. I had been meaning to take it out for three days, but kept forgetting. I really ought to put it in a visible place, not under the desk, but these considerations aside, it seems a little unreasonable to put the rubbish on to of my laptop. So I took it off and put it next to me. ‘Emma! You forgot again!’
‘Yes, I know, sorry, I’ll take it tonight. Really!’ At which point he grunted and returned to his work.
Some five minutes later, he got up to do something, and became agitated about the fact that the bag was in the wrong place (or something), picked it up and chucked it at my laptop. I was not pleased with this. I was even less pleased with the empty beer cans seeping warm, flat beer onto it. He walked off to change the music, complaining loudly, and me wondering exactly how to react. I suppose the fact that there were two other Germans in the room, looking rather surprised, decided it for me.
1) Take it all in my stride, claim the moral high ground by declaiming him as being a ‘childish bastard’ (well - he’s always calling me childish!)
2) Call him a childish bastard, pick up the two items of crap on my computer then empty the bag with some relish over the floor, sit down and continue
Who needs the moral high ground? I certainly don’t. And we might not be talking for the rest of the day, but this is a discount super price for watching him scrabble about, picking the rubbish about, and enjoying the German reaction to my actions (one of them smirking and clearly on my side, the other shaking her head at the insanity of it all). Why he didn’t ask me to pick it up (I would have refused anyway) I don’t know. So, 1-0 to me today. Conversation has been limited to say in the least.
After half an hour of silence, I decided to adopt a conciliatory manner. ‘Here’s your ink cartridge’ (I decided not to be petty and add ‘which you chucked in the bin ealier’)
‘Tomorrow’.
‘Why tomorrow?’
‘I told you earlier’
‘No, you just said you weren’t going to talk to me or anything until tomorrow… oh, whatever’. There was silence as I tried to think what might marginally improve the situation. ‘Well, don’t worry about the rubbish, I’ll take it’
‘No, Emma. Tomorrow. You can do everything tomorrow’ (An ominous sentence – what is everything? I already have a suspicion that it involves cleaning)
‘Well, no, I said I was going to do it’
‘No Emma! Tomorrow.’
‘Fine. I’ll do it now’ and I got up and did it. Off I went. I came back, and he said nothing.
‘Well, that’s that!’
‘mm. Tomorrow’
And pretty much, for the rest of the day we sat in silence. I couldn’t be arsed to make any more effort and he wasn’t going to anyway. He went to the beach. ‘See you later’, I said. He looked at me with a grimacing smile and walked off. A petty impulse led me to say ‘you can still be civil, you know’, knowing fully what the inevitable response would be.
Jackpot ‘No, Emma. Tomorrow.’ he muttered, sailing off on his bike. I came back in, got rid of the dreadful Classical FM crap he likes playing and put some nice rock music on.
He wasn’t happy at all. ’12 euros? Do you know how expensive that is?’. Cue a carbon copy of the argument above, but this time with the notion that ‘I told you no more than 10!’ (he hadn’t. And something he said three months ago doesn’t really count, in my opinion). I pointed out that it was really quite cheap. ‘I’m only giving you six. You use the printer as well, anyway’
‘I hardly think two pages counts’
‘But you could print out 200 pages!’
‘I don’t have 200 pages I want to print’
‘I’m not paying’
‘Why not?’
‘Take it back. Find a cheaper one’
‘What? No! You fuck off and take it back! The bus costs about the same!’ We continued in this vein for a while, until I got fed up. ‘Look, ok, I’ll pay for half of it if we can stop this ridiculous argument and talk about something else.
‘Emma, no! Don’t be so easy with your money!’
For Fuck’s Sake, I think, is adequate commentary here. I sat there and wondered what to say, settling on ‘well, make your bloody mind up!’
‘So, let’s look at your mobile phone!’ – I had got a new mobile phone WITH CAMERA! Unfortunately, the camera is shite and there’s nothing to link it up to the computer. I could order something off the internet, but you know, £2 is reasonable for a USB linkup thing. £18 P&P is fucking ridiculous. Moneygrabbing bastards. Can’t they just send it in the normal post without FedEx? Why? Why? Why? (Why not? ha, ha, ha). Anyway, back on thread: this is typical of him. I’m quite used to it now, and at least it signalled the end of the argument.
Today was a debacle. But no more farcical than an average day here. Arising at the civilised hour of 2pm (and with good reason, if The Grauniad is to be believed - http://www.guardian.co.uk/weekend/story/0,3605,1276787,00.html), I came to my desk in the front room to be greeted with the sight of a bin on top of my computer. I had been meaning to take it out for three days, but kept forgetting. I really ought to put it in a visible place, not under the desk, but these considerations aside, it seems a little unreasonable to put the rubbish on to of my laptop. So I took it off and put it next to me. ‘Emma! You forgot again!’
‘Yes, I know, sorry, I’ll take it tonight. Really!’ At which point he grunted and returned to his work.
Some five minutes later, he got up to do something, and became agitated about the fact that the bag was in the wrong place (or something), picked it up and chucked it at my laptop. I was not pleased with this. I was even less pleased with the empty beer cans seeping warm, flat beer onto it. He walked off to change the music, complaining loudly, and me wondering exactly how to react. I suppose the fact that there were two other Germans in the room, looking rather surprised, decided it for me.
1) Take it all in my stride, claim the moral high ground by declaiming him as being a ‘childish bastard’ (well - he’s always calling me childish!)
2) Call him a childish bastard, pick up the two items of crap on my computer then empty the bag with some relish over the floor, sit down and continue
Who needs the moral high ground? I certainly don’t. And we might not be talking for the rest of the day, but this is a discount super price for watching him scrabble about, picking the rubbish about, and enjoying the German reaction to my actions (one of them smirking and clearly on my side, the other shaking her head at the insanity of it all). Why he didn’t ask me to pick it up (I would have refused anyway) I don’t know. So, 1-0 to me today. Conversation has been limited to say in the least.
After half an hour of silence, I decided to adopt a conciliatory manner. ‘Here’s your ink cartridge’ (I decided not to be petty and add ‘which you chucked in the bin ealier’)
‘Tomorrow’.
‘Why tomorrow?’
‘I told you earlier’
‘No, you just said you weren’t going to talk to me or anything until tomorrow… oh, whatever’. There was silence as I tried to think what might marginally improve the situation. ‘Well, don’t worry about the rubbish, I’ll take it’
‘No, Emma. Tomorrow. You can do everything tomorrow’ (An ominous sentence – what is everything? I already have a suspicion that it involves cleaning)
‘Well, no, I said I was going to do it’
‘No Emma! Tomorrow.’
‘Fine. I’ll do it now’ and I got up and did it. Off I went. I came back, and he said nothing.
‘Well, that’s that!’
‘mm. Tomorrow’
And pretty much, for the rest of the day we sat in silence. I couldn’t be arsed to make any more effort and he wasn’t going to anyway. He went to the beach. ‘See you later’, I said. He looked at me with a grimacing smile and walked off. A petty impulse led me to say ‘you can still be civil, you know’, knowing fully what the inevitable response would be.
Jackpot ‘No, Emma. Tomorrow.’ he muttered, sailing off on his bike. I came back in, got rid of the dreadful Classical FM crap he likes playing and put some nice rock music on.
posted by Emma at 8:03 AM
1 Comments:
Emma,you're brilliant. He'll be eating out of your hand in no time. (...right? !)
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