WARNING: angry and incoherent and no point to this other than venting

[summerskin]

The bus on the way back home yesterday smelled like piss. The drive chain-smoked and played lousy music. We got stuck in traffic for most of the way and I barely made the late train.

In other news:

So the dispute concerns the fact that the Attic Girls are being called on Tuesday to work. This means six-day work weeks with no extra pay, but more days off in order to recoup the extra Tuesdays. This comes along with the government's recent decision to cut public jobs by 25 percent in terms of salary. For people like Attic Girl #1, who has to commute to work, it will now cost more than half of her monthly salary after taxes to come to work. Seriously, that bad.

Now the issue was the fact they the three of them got to talk to the director in charge of all this about it and they had jointly decided to stand their ground and say they would rather not work on Tuesdays thank you very much.

I wasn't in the meeting because I didn't come to work that day, but apparently the director woman said it's on an optional basis, so Attic Girl #2 said she can do it, Attic Girl #3 doesn't care either way yet prefers to do it so she can get a particular day off she wants, and Attic Girl #1 was alone in standing her ground and not wanting to come.

It turns out both Attic Girl #1 and #2 talked to the director individually a couple of times between the meeting on Thursday last week and Sunday, when the official decision would come.

Unbeknownst to me, this all went down, but, because there was barely anyone in the office day that other than me because they were all busy conducting tours, the day went down like this:

Attic Girl #2: I don't understand why she has to have preferential treatment. I mean, I've commuted to work myself and I know very well what that is like. She shouldn't try to pull this crap here.
Me: Hmm.

Later.

Attic Girl #1: You know she went behind my back. To the director. Can you believe that? So what if I don't want to come? I don't want to be forced to come. And behind my back? Can you believe it?
Me: Hmm.

Later.

Attic Girl #2: I'm calling the director again to tell her it's either all of us or none of us.
Me: *whimper*

Later.

Attic Girl #1: Has the director called? I should call her? I'm going to be the better person here, even though I don't want to come on Tuesdays. Why are people so backstabbing?
Me: Can't the two of you, uh, kiss and make up?

And it went like that for a while. The funniest part was that they would come into the office, whine a bit in my general direction, then get called back to the tours. Then the other one would come back and it would be the same thing over and over.

In the end, they're all going to come on alternate Tuesdays. Or something. I am not even considering coming because my Tuesdays are mine.

So we're sitting around the office. I go to the bathroom at some point and, when I come out, there is this random, bubbly, kind of badly-dressed woman. Her shoes are awful. I could not stop staring at them every few minutes and wish to bash the sight of them out of my head with the help of a nice, sturdy wall. She had a fake tan. She confirmed that later, so yeah. Apparently, she used to work in this office with the Attic Girls, but got pregnant two years ago or whatever, and left with her husband for London.

So the next hour was spent with her talking constantly about what life is like in London.

See, you have to realise that this is a woman that has lived all her life in Eastern Europe, her husband is also from around here, and they live the sort of up-turned noses existence that is born out of self-entitlement and lack of any evidence that they merit anything that they expect.

I initially wanted to talk about all that she had yapped about, but I don't think my stomach can take it. Mostly, it was a lot of racist comments about the level of "filth" of the immigrants there (not realising she is one herself, I guess), how drunk the women are in England (dude, I think Eastern Europe should shut up about drunkenness, don't you? stereotypes are many and varied, and there are enough about my country as well, so shut it!), and general homophobia.

The discussion degenerated into more racism (again the puking-in-my-own-mouth feeling), the worst gay and lesbian jokes I've heard in a long time, and the feeling that I will have to terminate my life and theirs in the next few minutes.

IDEK. Attic Girl #1 knows I am pro-gay rights. Attic Girl #2 knows I am a feminist. They all know I live in Germany and am very non-religious ("atheist" is close to a dirty word in this country). I don't know. I felt so offended, but more than that I felt frustrated. I didn't know what to do. How do you tell a bunch of thirty-somethings that everything they are saying is disgusting you? I felt so sick. I was pissed for the rest of the day, which meant I basically stopped talking.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel as bad as I thought I would feel for not telling them off for talking in that way. I think I've just become used to talking to walls when I go on about gay rights or tolerance or anything of the sort in this country. I want to leave the office as soon as I can these days because of such situations. I don't want to deal with it anymore, and I definitely don't want to be out in a position where I have to lie about anything.

Also, apparently on the plane ride from London, she was sitting next to some dude from Bolivia, some intellectual type, who was unable to tell her anything good he had heard about this country. Like, he was all sorry about it and apologised profusely, but the stereotypes and gossip and news only pointed at Get Out Fast! And the woman still has the audacity to discriminate against everything and anyone under the sun in the worst ways possible. I have no words.

Dear fuck, I desperately need to fly far, far away from this country. I understand things are bad everywhere. The "Western model" (being general and generous here) doesn't work most of the time either. There are jerks and homophobes and racists and über-religious nutjobs everywhere, and I'll probably have to deal with this crap anywhere I go, but, to be honest, what I also hate about such situations is that I cannot justifiably speak out because there is no point. It's as if I'm speaking as completely different language--which has its own "special" alphabet!

You would think simple ideas such as: don't butt into people's lives, don't do to others what you hate being done to you, respect others, tolerate so you yourself can be tolerated, etc. might be easier to occur to some people. I understand upbringing, I do. I understand we all have our prejudices and cannot be tolerant of everything under the sun. What I don't get is how it makes people feel better belittling and discriminating against others because they are different than them. I'm puzzled by how little any of them stop to think that they might be hurting others with their words and actions. Do they not care? Have they not been unfairly treated themselves at any point in their lives? And they're women as well, my own kinfolk and all that, but that doesn't seem to penetrate through the fog of "daddy told me gays and black people are evil". I kind of want to bash my head against something. Again. And again. And again.

I need to get away from here and maybe come back in fifty years when people are more... thoughtful. Or just never again. I like the sound of "never".

I think now that I've written all about my day yesterday, I'm pissed off again. Charming. And I kind of want to get sloshed some. Blah.