The Business Case

After receiving several emails asking if I was okay, I decided I’d better continue to update my blog  ;-)

So…  my last entry finished with me receiving the “I’m moving out” email and my reply of “yeah; go ahead, make my day”.

So I storm home from work expecting to find the house empty of him and his clothes - and I’m actually looking forward to it!  Because he is being an arse; a jerk!   For some reason, this idiot and the utter Harridan of an ex-wife seem to think they are the only people on the planet that count.  It doesn’t matter if it’s my home too; or my time.  Or my things that are treated badly or dirtied.  It appears that because it is a kid – and worse, their kid, that seems to excuse anything!

Instead of finding the house empty, I walk in the door to find him slinking around the kitchen, acting as if no words had been traded between us.  Yeah, I don’t do “bury my head in the sand”; it’s pointless.

This needs discussion because I’m not living like this and he is obviously miserable with the way things are; so I start the ball rolling.  In truth, ‘we’ talking about it generally means ‘me’ talking about it; and this time wasn’t really any different.

Relationships are about honesty and talking; but they are also about fairness and negotiation – willingness to compromise.  Both the Squeeze and the witch seem incapable of understanding that I’m making a compromise to my lifestyle – every second weekend and dotted days in between – and have for years.  My children are adults and gone from home; I like it that way.  I didn’t choose to have a teenager, let alone one that is lazy with no care for my environment.  And truth tell, I figured the time we would have him would get less as friends took precedence – instead, with no friends the time is getting more!  And we need to work this out now, because I’m not going there…  I’m not doing more.

These people are incapable of understanding cleanliness or hygiene.  Organisation…?  I may as well be speaking in tongues.  And yet if I look at it with my Project Manager brain, I see that no one seems to care what I want or need – my requirements don’t even make it to the business case!    I’m not even mentioned as a stakeholder for crying out loud.

So I try to impart some PM wisdom on the Squeeze.  Okay, this may have included a bit of shouting and a few tears, but sometimes you have to be passionate in your beliefs.

I discussed the issues, risks and impacts.

Issues:

• The issues are that my needs are not ever considered – I do not want a teenager full time.
• The witch does not follow any form of organisation which effectively kills my ability to organise.
• The kid is lazy and hygiene levels are low - my work load/gag reflex increases.
• If I say no; the Squeeze bombards me with repeated requests via the witch and her text messages become abusive.
• The Squeeze wants to see more of the kid.

Risks:

• Repeated requests make me feel mulish and resentful.
• The lack of organisation means my first reaction is to say ‘no’ – because of her.
• I will give up waiting for the ex-wife to see a hygiene issue and say something myself.
• If I say no and the Squeeze repeats the request the next 3 days in a row; I’ll stab him.
• The Squeeze will move out and find a place he can be with the kid whenever he wishes.

I think I covered off the issues and risks and the Squeeze sat and listened and could probably even agree with me that these were in fact Issues.  He may not see them or feel them, but he couldn’t deny they were issues for me.

But when I talked about the “impact” – ahhh this is where it all goes to hell in a hand basket.  Why?  Because this idiot really thinks there is no ‘impact’ on me.  How does it ‘impact me’ he asks!  WTF??  Is this idiot for real..?

I attempted to give him a tiny example of my world this weekend… 

Saturday afternoon he spent attempting to find my music.  Several months ago, the kid took my 1Tb hard drive (without my permission) and plugged it into a different computer.  The iTunes on the computer sucked my mp3’s out.  I should probably point out that being “organised” meant that I now had a top level folder called [music] and in that folder were hundreds of [artist] and in that, [albums].  About 500 gb worth.  10 years’ worth.  EACH FOLDER IS NOW EMPTY.   I was not fricking happy!  I didn’t leap kick him, but I wanted to!

Up until now, nothing had been done about it other than a few token “searches” by the Squeeze and him telling me “they’re there… somewhere…”.  This week, I am showing the Squeeze part of the “impact” that is the kid.  In finding my music, he is not even half way through…

On Friday, my daughter was coming to go boxing with the Squeeze and then stay the night.  It took me an hour to clean the spare room.  I had to drag the doona and pillows outside and spray them, then throw them in the dryer and spray them again.  I had to open the windows, spray the mattress and the carpet in an attempt to get the stench out of the room – enough so that is was bearable for someone else to stay.

I had to wash the bedding twice – with tea tree oil.  The doona cover smelled so revolting that I couldn’t leave it in the laundry; and then I gagged while tossing it in the garage to wait until the sheets washed.   When the Squeeze came home, I dragged him out to the garage and put the doona cover in his face – and he could smell it.

Finally!!!  That’s never happened before…  Driving along with my head is hanging out the window like a dog because of the manky hair smell – and he can’t smell a thing!   He would struggle to smell a rotting corpse that’s been in the garage for three weeks!  So how damned bad does the stench have to be for him to smell it..?  And considering the kid was only here for two nights – what the hell does the Harridan’s house smell like…?  [I almost gagged typing that!]

Where are we at..?

Well I mentioned compromise.  So I typed up an agreement and sent it to the Squeeze with the suggestion that if week nights she wants to bugger off to velvet land and toss the kid at us, do so – he would have the kid – but he would have him at their place…  Not mine.   [Note:  obviously he wasn’t going to be staying there while she was there…]  He was okay with this idea.  Not sure she’ll go for it given that he’s not actually allowed to cross the threshold J

I also suggested that one night a week, he pick up the kid and do dinner and a movie – then drop him back home.  Two nights if he wanted!  That way they have quality time – and it doesn’t impact me! [And bonding is not in the form of 24/7 television]

We have to do something about this problem…  Or we’re not going to make it.

As I pointed out to the Squeeze, since getting off a plane following a 30 hour flight, the Harridan has demanded we have the kid every single day for two weeks.  In between this, she has poured on the venom – I mean how dare he take a three week holiday (which was four weeks according to her at last count); how dare he leave his kid that long!  Strangely, this wasn’t an issue when she buggered off to Perth for longer than that over Christmas and then extended it another week or so in Bali!  The kid wasn’t suffering from him not being there then..!  Hell, he wasn’t even worthy of being told about it!

My stress level has gone through the roof and we have argued repeatedly.  So it’s fix it or bust.