No, apparently they don’t like me much

I made the mistake of opening what I thought was a joint crew emollient. It was, but it originated from the first leg of the tour and only two passengers cared enough to slip some money in.

It makes me feel a little bad that I didn’t give them the holiday they were expecting. I sealed back up the envelope and sent to all to my driver: He did an amazing job and he deserves it.

 

I am not brooding too much, though. Crying a lot instead.
 
  
I get back into Perth, one day shy of a fifteen day trip, unable to leave the hotel until the following evening. I have been over 3000 km in the last five days. My passengers all hate each other. I have wrung my energy levels dry. I attend a formal farewell function, lie for three hours about how all you old people are so great (actually, most of them are fucking fantastic but my next trip hiring won’t go on THOSE statistics), neglect dinner because I simply don’t have a chance to stick  fork in my mouth between the anxious questions, and generally exhaust myself in work up until my number 2 daughter calls me.
 
She is distraught. I am not with her, nobody is with her. I can’t even drive to see her because I will get fired if I leave the hotel when I have staying paxs within.
 
I am trying to get help to her, trying to make sure things are okay.
 
 I call my mother. She is in bed, at home, alone. With pneumonia. Her husband (Lindsay) is in hospital with a melanoma cancer on his leg. I know none of this.
 
She can’t drive to get her granddaughter. I wake up Spousehole. He is a caring father, truly. Claire was afraid to wake him up but he said he would get right over there. I asked her to take a taxi down here but we were both scared of strange taxi drivers.
 
This on top of an incredibly brutual day, inwhich we drove 843 km and saw four separate attractions,and onepassenger swore sohard at me that another passenger (autistic) wanted to punch him.
 
All this and I need to tell somebody. But there is no somebody who would be glad to hear from me in these small hours.

 

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About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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One Response to No, apparently they don’t like me much

  1. Suzy says:

    I’m sorry. 😦

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