Why We Women Are Crazy (Hint: It's Your Fault)

                I’m not comfortable expressing anger.

                Like many women, I’m like Dr. Jekyll and Mr.  Hyde.  If I was the weather, I’d have only two forecasts, sunny and thunderstorms.  There are no mediums with me.  I’m either happy or I’m in a rage.This is not because I’m bipolar. (or is it)?  It’s because, like many women, I’ve been taught to swallow back my anger until I erupt in a volcanic rage.  Probably most of you had mothers that were 99.9% Donna Reed but a memorable .1% was Incredible Hulk.  And usually the transformation happened over something slight.  After all, the woman smiled bravely while your baby brother vomited all over her and then flew into a blinding rage over a forgotten Lego that migrated under the couch. 

                That’s why we women have an unfair reputation for being crazy.  Because we suppress our anger until it boils over, and the tipping point is usually something ridiculous like forgetting to bless someone after they sneezed.

                This is the story of my life.  My own anger fills me with shame.  After acting out, I’ve always chastised myself.  Some jackasss cut me off, big deal, did I have to go all psycho beeping and giving him the finger?   We’re not usually angry at the people that brought on the eruption and that adds to our sense of shame.

                Over the years, I’ve made strides toward appropriately expressing myself and not lashing out because I’m in a pissy mood and someone made a weird face at me.  (True story, I got yelled at by my boss when I worked at Somers Manor Nursing Home for allegedly making a weird face at someone.  That I didn’t even make on purpose, btw).

                That’s why my  encounter with the plumber today upset me so much.  I was feeling quite frustrated and angry with the situation and I didn’t really communicate that to him.  So, for him to act like I’d just murdered his firstborn is beyond the pale.  Don’t I have the right to express myself as long as it’s not abusive?

                Here’s the story.  About a week ago, I noticed a puddle of water in my bathroom.  I didn’t think much of it; after all, it had been pouring rain for days and I live in the basement which does flood on occasion.  But as the days passed, and the problem grew worse, it became apparent that water was flowing from the pedestal of my toilet.  Where it is bolted into the ground.  First it happened whenever the shower was run; by yesterday morning, when I finally called the plumber, I couldn’t even flush the toilet and every time water was run in the house it came out the bottom of my toilet.

                I arranged to work from home for the afternoon and the plumber came.   

                Strike one: he didn’t actually work for the plumbing company I’d hired.  He was an independent contractor they call when they have too many jobs for them to handle.  Okay, fine, but I kind of feel they should have given me a head’s up about that. 

                Strike two:  he kept explaining things to my sister’s boyfriend, and taking directions from him, when my sister’s boyfriend is not the homeowner nor was he paying him.  Furthermore, my sister’s bf never witnessed the issue, since I live in a separate apartment in the basement.  Strike three:  the plumber was unclear about whether he fixed the problem yet charged me $400.  And never once looked at the pedestal of the toilet nor did he check what was happening with the toilet when the water was running, although I repeatedly stated water was flowing from the bottom of the toilet.  He wasn’t listening to me. 

                My frustration turned to anger this morning when I discovered that the problem had not been solved.  I was upset.  I don’t have a lot of money in savings and what I have, I worked really hard for and struggled to save.  To see it go flying out the window to fix some bullshit plumbing issue  made me want to bang my head against the wall.  It would be one thing if it was a definitive thing that costs $400 to fix but I was being told hey, we’ll try this to the tune of $400, and this to the tune of $400, and if that doesn’t work we can try this for $350. 

                I called the guy back, arranged to work from home again this afternoon, and all would have been well, except, once again he was taking directions from my sister’s boyfriend and not listening to me.  Only when he was on the verge of leaving did he decide to send my sister’s boyfriend in to see if water was still coming out the bottom of the toilet.  BF looks at the HUGE PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR, says, “Well, I don’t know what’s that’s from (you don’t know what that’s from?  despite the fact I have been complaining nonstop that when we run the water it comes out the bottom of my toilet)???? so I’ll tell him it’s fine,” and goes and tells him THE PROBLEM IS FIXED.  For real.

                I had to chase after the plumber as he’s getting ready to leave and say, “There is still water coming out of the bottom of my toilet!” 

                He sighed.  Visibly aggravated.  Despite the fact that since my first interaction with the plumbing company yesterday I have repeatedly stated, “there is water coming out of the pedestal of my toilet,” he only decided to take his flashlight and check out the toilet during his fourth hour working on the plumbing issues on my house as he’s about leave.  Now he’s telling me it’s a frigging gasket or a flim flange or a wax ring, I don’t know.  I rolled my eyes and said, “Jesus Christ, after all of this I’m still going to have water coming out of my toilet?  How much is that going to cost?”

                Realize, it’s already going through my mind that the problem with the toilet was the flim flange all along, and I’ve just been charged $400 for him to clear out the main line despite the fact I’ve been saying, “there is water coming out of the bottom of my toilet,” like a BROKEN FRIGGING RECORD.  (Yes, I AM mad.  Can you blame me)?

                He got this weird look on his face.  Apparently, that slight expression of frustration was very offensive to him.  (Yes, I’ve since had it pointed out that he may not have liked me taking the Lord’s name in vain.  That is a possibility.  But you know what?  It’s MY house!  A fact that seemed to keep escaping him, I might add).

                He left without charging me again, which I didn’t expect and appreciated.  I was placated.  I was willing to let the situation go.  Until I get a phone call from the absolutely obnoxious customer service representative of Goldberg Plumbing & Heating.  Apparently, she heard about my momentary lapse of frustration, and had volunteered to put me in my place.

                Her excuse was she was reaching out to discuss the gasket or flim flange or wax nuval ring or whatever the hell the toilet might now need.  But that was bullshit, because we don’t even know for sure the toilet needs flim flange.  We had decided to adopt a wait and see attitude.

                She proceeds to throw out some astronomical figures in this condescending voice that heck, if I wasn’t already in a panic over losing my entire savings account to the frigging toilet, now I was.  Then she informs me, in the voice of a babysitter whose charge just threw a tantrum over not being allowed anymore cookies, that it was really nice of the plumber not to charge me for today’s visit since it was a chargeable visit.  Well, gee, lady, he charged me four hundred dollars the day before for an hour and a half of work and didn’t fix the problem, was he going to charge me another four hundred dollars?  I actually was expecting that, which is part of the reason why I expressed frustration because I thought I was being charged an additional four hundred and then another four hundred for the flooey the toilet might need.

                She then went on to inform me, in that same condescending tone, that whomever I had working on my plumbing in the past screwed up some pipe and it’s bent in a way that won’t allow them to stick a camera down there and if I have further issues it’s going to cost a kidney for them to find a way to do it.  Thanks, lady, because you know, I don’t have enough stress in my life.  I seriously don’t.  And the nasty, condescending way that she accused me of having a shitty plumber in the past made me want to reach through the phone and throttle her.  I said, “I had nothing to do with that.”  Truth.  My father had this friend Kenny whom he hired as a handyman to do all sorts of projects around the house back in 1996 and fucking up the plumbing was one, as well as rebuilding parts of the porch which are now rotting because he used untreated wood.

                She sneered, “well you bought the house, didn’t you?”
                NO.  My mother died six months ago and left this house, with all its lovable problems, in my lap.

                Here is my issue, and why I am so blindingly angry I cannot see straight. I was not inappropriate in the way I expressed myself.  I think he was put off by me expressing a negative emotion AT ALL.

                And there you have it, folks.  Why we ladies are psycho.  Because society does not permit us to express anger or frustration.  Expressing frustration or annoyance or irritation is WRONG if you’re a woman, and if you do it, you have plenty of other women out there raring to shove you back in your place.

                I went from shrugging off the encounter with the plumber, whom I actually thought was kind of  nice, to being livid.  Because he was covertly sexist in the way many men are, and we give them a pass for it because it’s not on purpose, it’s the result of social conditioning.  But now I’m pissed.  I’m pissed that he didn’t listen to me when I kept saying I had water flowing out of my toilet and then acted like it was a big frigging surprise.  I’m pissed that he acted like I was invisible and didn’t listen to ANYTHING I said and instead dealt with my sister’s boyfriend who doesn’t even use my bathroom and knew jack about the problem.  I’m pissed that he somehow thought that was appropriate even though he KNEW I hired him, I’m the homeowner, and I was the one paying him.  He CHOSE not to listen to anything I said and then when I expressed minor frustration ran back to his supervisor and bitched about me like I’d gone full psychotic rage on his ass.  Which I did not.  Not even close.

                Want to know why we women go nuts?  Because we deal with this kind of bullshit sexism every frigging day all day long and then the minute we SAY something, we’re wrong.  And ninety percent of the time, it’s other women trying to put us in our place.  It’s other women telling us it’s wrong to speak up or say something.

                Women are human.  We get angry.  Especially when we’re not treated with respect.  If you’re wondering why someone goes batshit crazy because her coupon is expired, it’s not because of that, it’s because she’s had to put up with nonstop bullshit all day long.  If we just allowed each other to say, “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night and I’m mad!  I’m mad at my baby for being colicky even though I know I shouldn’t be and I’m mad at my husband who acts like the baby is my responsibility alone.  Why couldn’t we have taken turns getting up?”

                Instead, she held it in and blew up over something stupid.  Now the cashier and the people behind her in line think she’s crazy and she’s afraid they might be right.  Worse, she feels ASHAMED.  Like I do.  No matter what anyone says, I feel ashamed that I had that momentary lapse with the plumber, because he seemed like a nice guy.   Even though he ignored me and didn’t listen to me and treated me like I was invisible most of the time.  I feel I was wrong to express frustration around him, and he apparently thought so too, because he sent one of the female elders to give me a talking to.

                I know this is the kind of story that makes people roll their eyes and say, “Please, he wasn’t being sexist,” but yes, he was, and I’m supposed to just swallow it.  I’m not supposed to make others uncomfortable.  I’m supposed to be nice and think it’s okay that you’re charging me up the wazoo and ignoring my complaints about the flange and then behaving like it’s a big surprise.

                In case anyone is wondering how that feels, try GODDAMN INFURIATING.

                But did I say, “Gee, jackass, how come you didn’t listen to me telling you over and over again that water was flowing out of the pedestal out of my toilet?”

                Did I say, “You’re a sexist jerk.  You do know my sister’s boyfriend’s penis isn’t paying you today, right?”

                Did I say, “I’m not paying you for today, because you didn’t fix the problem yesterday.”

                NO.  I said none of that.  All I did was express dismay that this plumbing problem was costing me so much.  But, apparently, even that is not allowed.

                So, now you know why women are crazy.  Let us frigging express ourselves and we wouldn’t be having a shit fit because someone cut us off.