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So that was not a good day. It was only a small incident, but it had me kind of upset and twitchy all day. I'm working as temporary parish secretary, and the office is based in the parochial house. Today, the priest (who sort of hates me anyway) drew me aside and told me to start flushing the downstairs toilet when I use it, because he's had to clean it up three times after me.
That ... I don't know how that can be true. I have never failed to flush a toilet in my life. Every time I've left that bathroom, it's been perfectly fine. Seriously. I'm not a five year old, what the hell?
The only thing I can think of is that something is backing up the toilet gradually? Does that happen? I'm entirely serious, there has never been anything left in that toilet when I've left the bathroom. Not once, let alone three times. Unless there is something wrong with the flush mechanism or the pipe, so things float back up afterwards, I have no idea what's happening. And having that said to me did not in any way help my day. Now I'm feeling self-conscious and weird every time I have to go to the toilet.
And, okay. I know he's been getting increasingly unhappy about me working from his house 19 hours a week (parish office is inside the parochial house), especially since there's only about five hours of actual work involved since we ran through and cleared the 10 year backlog of paperwork. He basically only needs someone to do the newsletter once a week, do the money once a week, answer a couple of phone calls and check email for him. It's seriously about 5 hours all told. But I have to fill 19. It's not my fault, that's the scheme I'm working on, I have to fill 19 to get paid. As far as I can tell, the previous girl in this position basically went home once she had stuff done, hours or no hours, but even if I could do that without feeling guilty and worried and panicky, I actually physically can't. I don't drive. I get a lift in in the morning and a lift out at night, and once I'm there I'm there for the day. End of.
Besides, he sodding knew my hours when he signed up to take part in the scheme. He KNOWS how long I have to work. It's not my fault that all he actually needs done is the newsletter. And, I know, I know it's his house, he lives there, but for fuck's sake. He signed up for the scheme. To get someone in for two hours a week to do the newsletter because he can't (he's near enough computer illiterate), yes, but you signed on for a secretary, you promised there would be 19 hours of work involved, it's nobody's fucking fault but your own that that was a barefaced lie because you needed someone to do the newsletter that badly.
Goddamnit. Sorry. That's been building for a while. I don't think either of us liked each other, right from the start, but these last few weeks in particular have been increasingly difficult, and then that out-of-the-blue comment today ... I get that he doesn't want me in his house. Not three days a week and for most of the day. I get it. But there's nothing I can do. I have to get sodding paid, and he sodding signed up for this.
It is ... really hard working in someone's semi-private space when you know for a fact that they don't want you there. I mean, he's never said anything, but he keeps making comments like 'oh, are you here today?' (he knows what days I work) or 'how long are you working today?' (he knows what hours I work) or 'oh, that's right, you don't drive' (he goddamn fucking knows I don't drive), or 'flush the toilet after yourself' (god, I feel so horrible and embarrassed about that). Like, thank you so much. And there's bugger all to do, I'm honestly reading fanfic all day once the actual work is done, and he tends to leave for most of the day so I'm sitting there in an empty house on my own and he doesn't want me there. He doesn't want me there. I'm sitting in someone's house on my own and the owner doesn't want me there.
And it's not something I can report to my supervisor, I don't think, because he hasn't actually said anything. How am I supposed to say 'he doesn't want me in his house' without sounding paranoid and oversensitive? I mean, I can tell her there's literally nothing to do, but ... there's nothing she can do about that. If the scheme gets cancelled, he's got nobody to do the newsletter and I've got no job. Again.
I think I hate him. I have no reason to hate him, he's a relatively polite old man who mostly leaves me alone. He's just ... he's irresponsible and disorganised and he hates me and he doesn't want me there. So. You know.
Okay. Sorry. I'm just wanted to get that off my chest a bit. Sorry.
That ... I don't know how that can be true. I have never failed to flush a toilet in my life. Every time I've left that bathroom, it's been perfectly fine. Seriously. I'm not a five year old, what the hell?
The only thing I can think of is that something is backing up the toilet gradually? Does that happen? I'm entirely serious, there has never been anything left in that toilet when I've left the bathroom. Not once, let alone three times. Unless there is something wrong with the flush mechanism or the pipe, so things float back up afterwards, I have no idea what's happening. And having that said to me did not in any way help my day. Now I'm feeling self-conscious and weird every time I have to go to the toilet.
And, okay. I know he's been getting increasingly unhappy about me working from his house 19 hours a week (parish office is inside the parochial house), especially since there's only about five hours of actual work involved since we ran through and cleared the 10 year backlog of paperwork. He basically only needs someone to do the newsletter once a week, do the money once a week, answer a couple of phone calls and check email for him. It's seriously about 5 hours all told. But I have to fill 19. It's not my fault, that's the scheme I'm working on, I have to fill 19 to get paid. As far as I can tell, the previous girl in this position basically went home once she had stuff done, hours or no hours, but even if I could do that without feeling guilty and worried and panicky, I actually physically can't. I don't drive. I get a lift in in the morning and a lift out at night, and once I'm there I'm there for the day. End of.
Besides, he sodding knew my hours when he signed up to take part in the scheme. He KNOWS how long I have to work. It's not my fault that all he actually needs done is the newsletter. And, I know, I know it's his house, he lives there, but for fuck's sake. He signed up for the scheme. To get someone in for two hours a week to do the newsletter because he can't (he's near enough computer illiterate), yes, but you signed on for a secretary, you promised there would be 19 hours of work involved, it's nobody's fucking fault but your own that that was a barefaced lie because you needed someone to do the newsletter that badly.
Goddamnit. Sorry. That's been building for a while. I don't think either of us liked each other, right from the start, but these last few weeks in particular have been increasingly difficult, and then that out-of-the-blue comment today ... I get that he doesn't want me in his house. Not three days a week and for most of the day. I get it. But there's nothing I can do. I have to get sodding paid, and he sodding signed up for this.
It is ... really hard working in someone's semi-private space when you know for a fact that they don't want you there. I mean, he's never said anything, but he keeps making comments like 'oh, are you here today?' (he knows what days I work) or 'how long are you working today?' (he knows what hours I work) or 'oh, that's right, you don't drive' (he goddamn fucking knows I don't drive), or 'flush the toilet after yourself' (god, I feel so horrible and embarrassed about that). Like, thank you so much. And there's bugger all to do, I'm honestly reading fanfic all day once the actual work is done, and he tends to leave for most of the day so I'm sitting there in an empty house on my own and he doesn't want me there. He doesn't want me there. I'm sitting in someone's house on my own and the owner doesn't want me there.
And it's not something I can report to my supervisor, I don't think, because he hasn't actually said anything. How am I supposed to say 'he doesn't want me in his house' without sounding paranoid and oversensitive? I mean, I can tell her there's literally nothing to do, but ... there's nothing she can do about that. If the scheme gets cancelled, he's got nobody to do the newsletter and I've got no job. Again.
I think I hate him. I have no reason to hate him, he's a relatively polite old man who mostly leaves me alone. He's just ... he's irresponsible and disorganised and he hates me and he doesn't want me there. So. You know.
Okay. Sorry. I'm just wanted to get that off my chest a bit. Sorry.