The Tart of Compassion

I used to be the biggest frigging pushover in the galaxy. I'd give a stranger shoes if he needed them. I wore buttons against animal cruelty, testing, and even eating if they weren't properly cared for. Once I worked with a 50 year old woman called Sue (yes, her real name) for about 3 weeks. She was hired as a personal assistant for my evil boss Cruella. Sue had just come off gastric bypass surgery and couldn't eat anything bigger than an egg roll at any point in time. Every lunch time however, she'd ask me to pick her up an Egg Foo Young when I was out and about. She could barely walk the 400lbs of herself down the stairs for chrissakes, so I always obliged. We'd then sit on Cruella's porch (home office) while we ate. Every three minutes or so, Sue would get this look on her face before discreetly vomiting into her mouth. After the puke, she would go back to eating the pile of eggy psuedo Chinese food before repeating the chunder. Nice. I believe I lost a dress size in those three weeks, it was an interesting time.

I believe it was about day 14 of her working there when she came to me crying. Cruella was letting her go. She couldn't believe it, there should be a law! Yeah, something about not working and being too fat to move across the room to pick up the phone smacked of discrimination. She wailed that she wouldn't be able to pay her rent and that she'd be kicked out. Conveniently, this sob story came on pay-day. Being as I was, I offered to lend her $200, to which she almost squeezed me to death and even offered to WALK down to the cash machine with me to get the money. This girl was obviously desperate if she was going to walk somewhere.

She left me a phone number, a promise to pay, and I never saw nor heard from her again. Some say if you lend someone money and never hear from them again, it was probably worth it. But as I was someone making minimum wage who couldn't afford to pay for someone else's rainbow yawn fodder, I felt steamed. Used. Taken advantage of.

Various issues with people, friends, strangers followed. Hell, two months ago, I lent ex-friend K a skirt. No big deal right? We were still friends back then, why not? I had found the skirt on sale...deep sale. It was perfect, a white pleated tennis skirt, teeny tiny and stylish, it fit and it looked AWESOME on me. I brought it to wear out that night but when K saw it she squealed "Oh can I wear THAT?". She has always borrowed my things...every night out she would be wearing something of mine, but I never minded. Yeah, I was ticked that I'd have to bring 5 outfits to her house so at least I'd have something to wear once she picked through all my good stuff, but hey, what are friends for?

I had to leave early that night, leaving that perfect tennis skirt on her skinny minny body. I assumed (obviously) that she would return it. Nah-ah. After things between us went sour, I asked for the skirt back in a pleasant way. She informed me over email that she had already told me that she had lost the skirt in a move from her old apartment. What? Not only are you telling me (for the FIRST time) that you lost my skirt, but you are also saying "You already told me"? No apology. No sorry. Just gone.

It seems petty and it seems silly to be pissed over the loss of a $15 skirt. It's only $15 right? But it was such a good purchase, reduced WAY down, and it looked so good and I didn't even get a chance to wear it, and she tells me that "she already told me she'd lost it"?? We are talking principles here! No offer to replace, no refund the teeny amount of money? If she couldn't even show enough respect with something so minor, what hope did that hold out for our friendship when things may get rough?

These are just two incidents, one 6 years ago, the other 6 weeks ago that show what a sucker I have been. How stupid! My feelings of trust and helpfulness is gone. I don't want to do these things for people. And while that makes me feel empowered and brave, it also makes me feel a little sad...as if the last little country-girl part in me has been taken over by this big, bad city.

I want to wear buttons again. Maybe I just lack somewhere to pin them.