My bloggy woggy followers who have been kind enough to listen to my whinge when no one else will. Betsy ignored my texts today. Donna did text me back but said, ‘I don’t have time for your drama just now.’ Fucking cow. Tried calling Rich, and talked to his wife for a bit before she obviously fobbed me off with a fake ‘Gotta go someone’s at the door’ excuse. Talked to Mike for like ten seconds, before he said ‘At least you weren’t dumped in a foreign country.’ Yeah. He has no sympathy whatsoever. I can’t talk to Katie because she’s bestest buddies with Candy (even if she is moving out of Candy’s flat), and I’m still mad at her about quitting her internship anyway. Oh, shit. You know who would probably totally listen to me whinge and get me drunk on expensive red wine in the process? Hubby. I’ll text him…
…Texted Hubby. ‘HP has walked out.’
He rung back straight away. After an hour on the phone he’s invited me to come stay with him and Intern2 for a bit. Not the most convenient for getting to work, but I need to chat with some clients in Edinburgh, so I’ll make a big excuse about needing to be in Edinburgh tomorrow and Thursday and stay at Hubby and Intern’s flat and let them drown me in pino. I can’t stay in this flat on my own. I want to text HP.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I have texted HP. I texted him once, and he hasn’t responded. I don’t know what this means. He moved out, so why am I texting him. I feel like we need to talk. I need to be able to yell and scream at him. He is supposed to apologize and beg my forgiveness. And then I tell him to go fuck himself. Why, am I texting him? Why can’t we just hash this out and end it, or fix it. God, his silence is driving me nuts.
So, work today.
Giles turns up a day late for the Monday meeting. It seems that Patch had this brilliant idea to divvy the work up in the office. BigEyes is going to start doing research and putting together reports from the trades. And MacDraggyFeet is going to take some time from her ‘regular duties’ (whatever the fuck those are) to ‘spruce up the office’. Yeah, can’t imagine where that idea came from.
I mentioned that I’d like the Intern to get more involved and I wanted to sit down with her and work out some goals for her to accomplish over the next few months, and maybe even give her a few clients.
There was no silence to my suggestion, it was simply ignored. MacDraggyFeet brought up the office kitty for tea and coffee. Once that bit of maths was resolved (do tea drinkers put in as much as coffee drinkers? What about those that have more than a cup or two a day? What about biscuits? Do we pitch in for digestives, or go all out with Penguins?), Patch put his hands together like he was praying, lifted his finger tips to his mouth, and said in a quiet voice, ‘I really think the Intern should take on some more duties. Really allow her to develop her skill set for her CV.’
Wow. It’s amazing where he comes up with this idea.
I volunteered to sort this out with the Intern. So, she and I spent the day looking at stuff she can be doing, the first is working with some of our authors who have books out for Christmas sales and helping them to increase their media presence for the holiday buying season.
Oh, yesterday I was not paying attention to the office, I forgot to mention this weird thing that went on with Patch and BigEyes. So on Monday, BigEyes said something about how cute Patch’s kids were dressed on Halloween. Now, I assumed that Patch had been sending around his bog-standard ‘Aren’t my kids so fucking cute, of course they’re cute, they look like me, but I’m so humble, because it’s what I do, I’m a Dad’ pictures. But he hadn’t.
On Friday, Patch had been banging on about how excited he was to take his kids Trick-or-Treating, and how his wife is an evil shrew who hates life and love and everything merry, and wouldn’t take the kids out of the house. So wifey (or ‘the boss’ as he calls her) was going to stay home and pass out sweeties to the kids who came guising, and Patch was going to dress up like a train conductor, and each of his kids were a part of the train, all linked together…’safety first’.
Now, at the time I thought this would be a cool idea if all your kids were really young. But his eldest is in upper primary (I think). Well too old to be tethered to your little siblings while your Dad drags you from door to door asking for candy.
Anyway, BigEyes’ kids are all grown, and her daughter (I think) lives in Edinburgh. So, she went over there to do the Halloween thing with her grandkids, when surprise, surprise, her daughter lives in the same block of houses as Patch. And, BigEyes didn’t see Patch trick or treating with his kids, but she saw Patches wife with this kids (and no one was dressed up like a train). BigEyes recognized ‘the boss’ and Patches kids from the one-million pictures Patch has shown us. In fact, I can imagine Patch’s wife got a bit of a shock when some weird crazed looking woman you’d never met before came up and started talking to your kids by name. But, evidently, BigEyes explained the situation, and all was well.
However, I’m the only one in the office who had even noticed that Patch has just been busted on talking shit. He wasn’t out ‘being a Dad’ on Halloween. It was his wife who was out with the kids. And, get this, when BigEyes asked ‘the boss’ why Patch wasn’t out, the answer was, ‘He’s stayed home to hand out the treats. He’s got an early golf game in the morning, and doesn’t want to be up all night.’ Then, according to BigEyes, ‘the boss’ said that Patch would probably be in bed before they even got home. So, that’s bull shit on Patch’s ‘I read my kids a story every night before bed’ diatribe.
What’s so unnerving about all of this is that no one called him out on it. When BigEyes brought up the fact that she saw his wife out with the kids, and not him, Patch just played it off with his usual jokey ‘I’m the poor humble martyr’ routine. He went on about, ‘I had already spent hours getting them in their costumes, putting the decorations on the door. We had a fantastic time dancing to the Monster Mash. But, the kiddos wanted their mummy to do something with them…for once. And I think it’s important that they spend some time with her as well.’
Patch is the ultimate douche.
Oh, and speaking of douches, before Giles left today he pulled me aside to ask me if, get this, I would have a chat with Paris and London.
London and Paris have finally put through their suit on Friday, and Giles wants me to talk to them and get them to back off. Like fuck I will. I didn’t say that. I just told him that I was staying out of it, but at lunch I rang London to get the dirt.
Essentially, they’re stating that he has broken the terms of the sale contract, and that he never had any intention of honouring the contract. They’ve decided to sue separately in both a French and English court of law, because he’ll now have to go to court in two countries and get a solicitor for two countries. But, before any proceedings could have happened both parties were supposed to legally exchange information and documents and make an attempt to reach a settlement. This was supposed to have happened over the last month or whatever, but Giles completely ignored London and Paris’ attempts at contact. So, they’re taking him to court. Giles has 28 days from here to say whether he will defend his claim or just payout. Actually, what London and Paris are claiming is much more complicated than I could ever explain it, plus I probably shouldn’t talk about their legal stuff too much, but once this is all sorted, I’ll know if I can leave and without having to pay back the money.
Right. I’d better get onto bed. You know. I feel much better after blogging. And I’m off to Edinburgh tomorrow.