I Try Really Really Hard

I've learned how to deal with WAM in the most diplomatic way I can, that maintains the most harmonious co-worker relationship that we can possibly maintain. I gently offer my opinions, make it clear that I'm not trying to sway her decisions, and allow her to spout out whatever fantabulous story she wants. I got to talk with one of my other co-workers last night about WAM's unstable personality. It may sound funny, but we both agree that WAM has the potential to snap, and we're going to make sure we're on her good side if it happens. I'm happy to say that she made me very upset with her this morning and she didn't blow up about it.

Some years ago, she was talking about her stepmother who has Parkinson's disease and is close to the end of her life. I've never liked how WAM talks about her stepmother (back then, it was in terms of how many days off of work she could get when the day finally comes). She told me this morning that her father called to say her stepmother was going to a hospice. WAM was surprised at how calm he sounded; I figured he had come to grips with the inevitable. WAM said something to the effect of hoping it was sooner rather than later, and it wasn't because she was hoping her stepmother's suffering would be over. She told me that most of her family "wants the worst for her [stepmother]."

That's disgusting and she should be ashamed of herself and I told her so. No matter how you feel about a person, wishing them a slow and painful death is detestable. I told her she was wrong as a person to "want the worst" for anyone, and to not speak to me about it because I am offended by her lack of compassion. To my great surprise and relief, she walked away.

I am a lover of life. I believe life is sacred. From my parents to my cats to my drug-running neighbor to the crickets I feed to my carnivorous reptiles. I will not avoid squishing the ants that invade my kitchen, or stop eating chicken, but I respect their life just the same (and the doom they choose or the sacrifices they make).

When WAM's stepmother does pass on, she's going to come to me acting bereaved. And I'm going to tell her that I would say I'm sorry for her loss, but I know she didn't care about the person she lost. Gees, this is right up there with Adolf #1's story about the gerbil.

Here's some advice, gentle blog readers: never tell someone who loves life that you don't care for one. We won't understand it, we won't appreciate it, and we'll probably end up respecting you a little less for it.