I had to go clothes shopping this morning. I had to try on many different outfits to see what was best and then I had to choose about $800 worth of clothes, for which my new employer is footing the bill. I am working two separate product lines for them (one is five star travelling, the other 3.5 star; the difference is really only reflected in the accommodation we stay in) so I need two separate sets of monogrammed shirts. The pants and skirts and blazers are interchangeable so they can do for either.
So, one blazer, one cardigan, two sets of pants, one skirt and eight shirts. That’s a hell of a lot of trying on. I got hot and flustered and hair mussed and bad tempered. There’s no way I could look in the mirror and see the accomplished, polished professional I am meant to be.
I hate clothes and I hate trying them on and I was so tempted to just give my size and say “you pick them!” to the salesgirl, but professionalism kicks in and I tried on every damn one of them. I cleverly had contacted a friend of mine who works for the company and asked her what she found useful; her reccommendations helped a great deal. But I stil hated the whole process.
To add to the drama, I wasn’t sure if I was working or not. I had carved half an hour out of my day to do this but the office kept calling and pressuring me to do more, start earlier pickups etc. I know that they just want things to go as usual until I leave but I have so much to do and so many obligations with the new company to meet. It isn’t as if I can leave a few days before the new gig, either: I don’t work and I don’t get paid and I still have the holiday credit card to pay off. I didn’t know this opportunity would come around when I went away or maybe I would have done things differently.
And don’t even get me started on the exhusband, who is determined to make sure that he puts as many obstacles in my way as possible, as regards our children and their location when I am away. My mum said that she expected he would be as difficult as possible and she was right. He wouldn’t respond to an email, asking to discuss it; when I went around to his place to talk about it he appeared affronted that I was going to take the job regardless of what he thought about our daughters and their place in my life; he complained about never having a break in front of our eldest (who had cleaned the house that day and was presently cooking him dinner).
It’s not so much that he is concerned about the girls (at 17 and 18 he has very little hobbyhorse left in that particular scenario); more that he can’t bear me to have a job opportunity that might benefit me and that I would relish. I will never be punished enough for leaving him. BF told me to look for the positive in the situation and it is not hard to see.
The end result is that both my girls will live in my place when I am away. He demanded to know that I would supply the younger with a budget. Of course, but seeing as she is staying here for six weeks, I wonder if I should ask him for a contribution? I never have done when they stay with me above and beyond the fifty/fifty split but he is very quick to demand the other way round. I don’t see my daughters as a financial burden at all but then I have always been generous with money. Luckily, both the girls have inherited that trait from me, rather than the other side of the family.
Right. Clothes order to be scanned in and emailed across. Preparation for tomorrow’s first aid upgrade course. Dinner to be cooked. God, I am so tired.
Oh yeah, and I am going to be 45 next week. Please hold the celebrations.