“What your name?” the little boy yells at me.
I cower and shriek in the corner etc. etc.
“What your name I said!” the little boy shouts at me. “I hate you!”
“Now, Cole-Cole,” says the dad. “Let’s not use the word hate, okay, buddy? Remember what I told you? About hate being the nasty dark crayon and love being the pink? And remember what I told you about the clanging gong? And remember I told you about the bad people in the old days, who used to burn witches, and how scary that must’ve been for the witches, who were really just frightened old ladies who’d made the mistake of being too intelligent for the era they were living in?”
“You are not acceptable!” the kid shouts at me.
“Ha ha, oh my God!” says the dad. “Bibby, did you get that? Did you write that down? He’s imitating us. Because we say that to him? Write down how mad he is. Look how red his face is! Look at him kick his feet. Wow, he is really pissed. Cole, good persistence! Remember how Daddy told you about the little train that could? How everyone kept trying to like screw it and not give it its due, and how finally it got really mad and stomped its foot and got its way? Remember I told you about Chief Joseph, who never stopped walking? You’re like him. My brave little warrior. Bibby, give him a juice box. Also he’s got some goo-goo coming out of his nosehole.”
“Jesus Christ,” Janet mumbles.
I give her my sternest look.
“What was that?” says the dad. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” Janet says. “I didn’t say nothing.”
“I heard you very clearly,” says the dad. “You said Jesus Christ. You said Jesus Christ because of what I said about the goo-goo in my son’s nosehole. Well, first of all, I’m sorry if you find a little boy’s nosehole goo-goo sickening, it’s perfectly normal, if you had a kid of your own you’d know that, and second of all, since when do cavepeople speak English and know who Jesus Christ is? Didn’t the cavepeople predate Christ, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Of course they did,” the mom says from outside. “We just came from Christ. Days of Christ. And we’re going backwards. Towards the exit.”
“Look, pal, I got a kid,” says Janet. “I seen plenty of snot. I just never called it goo-goo. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Bibby, get this,” the dad says. “Parenting advice from the cavelady. The cavelady apparently has some strong opinions on booger nomenclature. For this I paid eighty bucks? If I want somebody badly dressed to give me a bunch of lip I can go to your mother’s house.”
“Very funny,” says the mom.
“I meant it funny,” says the dad.
“I was a good mom,” Janet says. “My kid is as good as anybody’s kid.”
“Hey, share it with us,” says the dad.
“Even if he is in jail,” says Janet.
“Bibby, get this,” says the dad. “The cavelady’s kid is in jail.”
“Don’t you even make fun of my kid, you little suck-ass,” says Janet.
“The cavelady just called you a suckass,” says the mom.
“A little suckass,” says the dad. “And don’t think I’m going to forget it.”
Soon flying in through the hole where the heads poke in is our wadded-up Client Vignette Evaluation.
Under Learning Value he’s written: Disastrous. We learned that some caveladies had potty mouths. I certainly felt like I was in the actual Neanderthal days. Not!
Under Overall Impression he’s written: The cavelady called me a suckass in front of my child. Thanks so much! A tremendous and offensive waste of time. LOSE THE CAVELADY, SHE IS THE WORST.
“Know what I’m doing now?” the guy says. “I’m walking my copy down to the main office. Your ass is grass, lady.”
“Oh shit,” Janet says, and sits on the log. “Shit shit shit. I really totally blew it, didn’t I?”
My God, did she ever. She really totally blew it.
“What are you going to do, man?” Janet says. “Are you going to narc me out?”
I give her a look, like: Will you just please shut up?
The rest of the day we sit on our respective logs.
When the quality of light changes I go to my Separate Area and take out a Daily Partner Performance Evaluation Form.
A note comes sliding under my door.
I have a idea, it says. Maybe you could say that ashole made it all up? Like he came in and tryed to get fresh with me and when I wouldnt let him he made it up? That could work. I think it could work. Please please don’t narc me out, if I get fired I’m dead, you know all the shit that’s going on with me, plus you have to admit I was doing pretty good before this.
She was doing pretty good before this.
I think of Nelson. His wispy hair and crooked nose. When I thank him for bravely taking all his medications he always rests his head on my shoulder and says, No problem. Only he can’t say his r’s. So it’s like: No pwoblem. And then he pats my belly, as if I’m the one who bravely took all my medications.
Do I note any attitudinal difficulties?
I write: Yes.
How do I rate my Partner overall?
I write: Poor.
Are there any Situations which require Mediation?
I write: Today Janet unfortunately interacted negatively with a Guest. Today Janet swore at a Guest in the cave. Today Janet unfortunately called a Guest a “suckass,” in English, in the cave.
I look it over.
It’s all true.
I fax it in.
23.
A few minutes later my fax makes the sound it makes when a fax is coming in.
From Nordstrom:
This should be sufficient! it says. Super! More than sufficient. Good for you. Feel no guilt. Are you Janet? Is Janet you? I think not. I think that you are you and she is she. You guys are not the same entity. You are distinct. Is her kid your kid? Is your kid her kid? No, her kid is her kid and your kid is your kid. Have you guilt? About what you have done? Please do not. Please have pride. What I suggest? Think of you and Janet as branches on a tree. While it’s true that a branch sometimes needs to be hacked off and come floating down, so what, that is only one branch, it does not kill the tree, and sometimes one branch must die so that the others may live. And anyway, it only looks like death, because you are falsely looking at this through the lens of an individual limb or branch, when in fact you should be thinking in terms of the lens of what is the maximum good for the overall organism, our tree. When we chop one branch, we all become stronger! And that branch on the ground, looking up, has the pleasure of knowing that he or she made the tree better, which I hope Janet will do. Although knowing her? With her crappy attitude? Probably she will lie on the ground wailing and gnashing her leaves while saying swear words up at us. But who cares! She is gone. She is a goner. And we have you to thank. So thanks! This is the way organizations grow and thrive, via small courageous contributions by cooperative selfless helpers, who are able to do that hardest of things, put aside the purely personal aspect in order to see the big picture. Oh and also, you might want to be out of the cave around ten, as that is when the deed will be done.