The reason why my friendship with Chrissy has disintegrated (yet again) is because of her constant rudeness, ignorance and self-involvement. This is only the most recent in a long and inglorious succession of such occurrences, so it’s wise to assume all will be forgotten before too long. That is the reason I decided to write this account, while the details are fresh in my mind, to act as a reminder for the next time I wonder why we so often fall out. When we inevitably bury the hatchet, Chrissy will always ‘compromise’ and say we’re both responsible, but I say the burden falls mainly on her stroppy and dysfunctional shoulders.
Everything is a crisis to Chrissy, as long as she is the subject. If a crisis doesn’t involve her in some way, she will waste no resources trying to empathise. Never mind that I am unemployed, and she has a well-paid job, but she phones me only to complain about it. Every night, it’s a variant on the same story, her boss might hate her, she might not be any good, she isn’t getting the sales, everyone else is so much better than she is, ad nauseum.
Every day this week, she has phoned me up to complain about her job, and every night, we have ended the conversation on a stroppy note – invariably, it is she who torpedoes the conversation, saying she doesn’t want an argument, shortly after she has decided to initiate one.
If that wasn’t enough, any attempts I make to console or relate to her are returned to sender, not at this address, thank you, and she will automatically take whatever I say as an insult. In today’s incident (dated 30th March, 2017) my attempts to allay her fears about everyone else doing much better than her was to point out that her job relies on luck a lot of the time. This is hardly a controversial assertion to make, as recruitment – essentially a sales role – is driven by competitiveness among staff, making it an environment which favours the lucky, much like a casino.
Chrissy, however, despite agreeing with this statement in the past, assures me it is all about skill – and that she is very good at her job. Now I am trapped. To acquiesce and concur with her statement would be to suggest Chrissy must be terrible at her job – by the metric of skill, why else would she perceive herself to be failing? No, I won’t be agreeing to that. Instead, I point out that luck is indeed a component, and that she shouldn’t feel bad when it isn’t going her way, because as with everything involving people, it can be inconsistent. Incorrect.
I ventured to ask why she was arguing (again, with a statement she previously endorsed), but was snappily informed it was “having a conversation”. I questioned whether she actually wanted my help, to which she wept, and spluttered “now you’re pissed off at me too” in a rather pathetic riposte. I mean pathetic in the nice sense, like how children are pathetic, but it’s not really their fault. Around this point, she terminated the call, with the oft-used refrain of “I’ve got to go”.
She doesn’t want my help, just wants to complain about work to someone without it. Jesus, take mercy on the souls of they who stray from the official narrative. She has told me, on many occasions, that she is proud of her selfishness and assorted cunteries, as if it’s some kind of moral thing.
Tuesday was a similar episode, although in that instance, her long-suffering friend was annoyed at her because of her belligerent insensitivity. Much to his credit, anyone would be pissed off if they were working hard and got a call from someone on the way to buy some new shoes, a fact acknowledge by Chrissy during the call she made to me. That conversation ended with her complaining that I don’t do much with my day – I’m unemployed – and therefore am not worth discussing, after which, she hung up. I suppose stories about shoe purchases are more interesting than applying for jobs.
She’s going to New York next week.