"You drove on that when it was flat, didn't you?"
Yes, I did, it's true, but in my defence I didn't realise it was flat. I just heard a funny grinding sound, and felt my car pull to the left. And a grinding sound and a pulling sensation could have been anything at all (which is what I kept telling myself as I drove home on a flat tyre).
So the man told me off, and I felt like I was about eight years old. And it made me think of all the other times I feel about eight years old (as distinct from the times I feel about 88, which is a different list altogether).
Top Eight Times I Feel Eight Years Old
- When buying a car, getting my car serviced, dealing with the NRMA, getting car insurance, or indeed having any discussion that involves the words 'car', 'tyre', 'engine', 'brake pads' or 'alignment'. Hell, even the word 'petrol' makes me anxious.
- Being at the hairdressers. Something about the absolute powerlessness of sitting in a chair whilst someone wields a pair of scissors reduces me to virtually a fetal state. Particularly after they take the first snip.
- Being at the dentist. Except substitute 'whirring machinery pointed at your mouth' for 'scissors', and multiply the fetal state by about a thousand.
- Going to the doctor and presenting with symptoms and being told there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. There is nothing quite so infantalising as discovering you are a hypochondriac. Except for...
- Going to the doctor and presenting with symptoms and being told there is something wrong with you. And then it doesn't matter how old you are; you become eight years old again and want your Mummy!
- Being pulled over by the police for any kind of traffic violation. (I say this purely hypothetically, of course.)
- Anytime anyone talks to me about the sharemarket, particularly futures trading. It is stupid and doesn't make sense and I will stick my fingers in my ears if you bring it up again.
- When my parents are cross at me. That is the WORST.
When do you feel eight years old?
I feel like I'm eight when I run around the house in my undies singing "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts..."
ReplyDelete...did I just type that out-loud... and click send?
YES! To all of the above. And the worst part is my husband is obsessed with the share market and wants to talk to me about it ALL THE TIME. Grounds for divorce, right?
ReplyDeleteYes JJ. I think you did.
ReplyDeleteTOTALLY x
ReplyDeleteThe real estate agency I rent my house from. When I applied for my house they were "concerned" that I was a single mum with three kids and no job. (I have a sick child who is not going to get better anytime soon and work is a little out of the question right now. But moving on...) Then my application was approved and I had to sit there while the terms of the lease were read out, which included their expectations of the level of cleanliness. Now I get to endure a house inspection every 3 months which consists of them coming into my home with a scary looking clipboard and going from room to room writing stuff on the scary clipboard, and me cowering nervously in a corner.
ReplyDeleteI find the whole process degrading and embarrassing. End whiny rant about real estate agents.
I hear you loud and clear on this Kerri. I am 60 years old, quite accomplished in any number of things (or so I like to tell people), raised two wonderful adults and now watching grandkids grow up - yet whenever I have to deal with any sort of "professional" or "expert" I feel like a kid on the carpet. Sound familiar?
ReplyDeleteThis is so true Kerri! I am regularly chastised for incompetence by experts...had to endure a stern lecture recently just because I spilt two drops of tea on my new laptop. When they opened it up they found some crumbs and a little...err nail polish :) Sue me!
ReplyDeleteI feel like I'm eight years old 1) when I'm finalising my professional accounts with my husband and discover I've done something wrong; 2) when I lock myself out (but we've fixed that one up with a key code box); 3) when we arrive at a hotel and discover I mixed up the dates and there's no room left. And see, just like most of yours, they really stem from male attitudes!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely when my parents are mad at me. Totally hate that.
ReplyDeleteYup. Doesn't matter how old you are, it's CRUSHING
ReplyDeleteYEAH. Their fault entirely!
ReplyDeleteWell, you were multi-tasking - what's wrong with that???
ReplyDeleteThat's horrible. It really is. And unnecessary. I'm sorry. :-(
ReplyDeleteGreat post Kerri. I felt like this last night. I was late to my tennis practice due to traffic. The instructor yelled at me in front of everyone = very embarrassing. I played disparagingly, trying to think positive thoughts. But alas, the damage was done. I felt cold, awkward + pretty much the 8 y.o. you summed up.
ReplyDelete