Second Hand Anxiety

Second Hand Anxiety

My partner has an interview today. I am LOSING MY FUCKING MIND about it. I feel like if she doesn't get the job it will be because I failed her.

Not sure if I just want her to get the job she really wants because it would make her happy and improve her quality of life. Or maybe it's because he blamed me for anything in his life that did not go his way.

"If you would have fucking slept on the couch so I could actually sleep...."

"They asked questions that weren't on the list you gave me. Thanks for fucking this up for me..."

"I don't fucking care if you don't know anything about machining. I told you to take notes for me to study for my trades exam. These notes are shit. It's like you're not even trying...."

Still figuring it out. I'll think about it while I go vomit. Stay tuned!

Apparently I’ll never be safe.

So.  I got sexually harassed by one of my tax clients yesterday. 

He’s on disability and CRA (Canada’s IRS - less scary, still irritating) is jerking him around.  He's “not going to file” to solve this issue (it won’t, but you can’t tell some people anything).  CRA will probably just cut off his benefits if he doesn’t file, and as I’m a fucking fool with no sense of self preservation or foresight I offered to do his return for free.  

So I’ve just agreed to do him a favour, and he starts calling me sweetheart.  I’m don’t say anything, and I wish I had because it went allll downhill from there. I roll up to pick up his documents and he’s shitfaced.  I don’t know what he was drinking, but I can’t get that sickeningly sweet smell out of my nose.

He starts trying to get me to “feel” his body parts that are “fucking jacked” now that he’s been working out.  I’m visibly uncomfortable. He asks me to grab his ass. “No, thanks”

He asked me to come up to his apartment.  I said that I was in a hurry to see other clients.  He asked me to go out to dinner with him and I told him I had a partner and wasn’t interested (why did I have to mention my partner, isn’t ‘not interested’ enough)?

THEN he says, and I fucking quote “Well you could always come upstairs for a one hour romance.”

“....Nope, I’m not interested.  I gotta go.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a sexual experience baby, that’s all it would be.”

*walking away dry heaving into my mask*

“Oh, ok, well thanks anyways!”

For the love of fuck, asshole.  I do your fucking taxes. I had half a mind to leave his docs with him, but I am propelled forwards by this self-destructive sense of compassion for people who are simply not worthy of it.

Did I mention I have to go back to this fucker to get him to sign things? 

Apparently I’ll never be safe.

So.  I got sexually harassed by one of my tax clients yesterday. 

He’s on disability and CRA (Canada’s IRS - less scary, still irritating) is jerking him around.  He’s “not going to file” to solve this issue (it won’t, but you can’t tell some people anything).  CRA will probably just cut off his benefits if he doesn’t file, and as I’m a fucking fool with no sense of self preservation or foresight I offered to do his return for free.  

So I’ve just agreed to do him a favour, and he starts calling me sweetheart.  I’m don’t say anything, and I wish I had because it went allll downhill from there. I roll up to pick up his documents and he’s shitfaced.  I don’t know what he was drinking, but I can’t get that sickeningly sweet smell out of my nose.

He starts trying to get me to “feel” his body parts that are “fucking jacked” now that he’s been working out.  I’m visibly uncomfortable. He asks me to grab his ass. “No, thanks”

He asked me to come up to his apartment.  I said that I was in a hurry to see other clients.  He asked me to go out to dinner with him and I told him I had a partner and wasn’t interested (why did I have to mention my partner, isn’t ‘not interested’ enough)?

THEN he says, and I fucking quote “Well you could always come upstairs for a one hour romance.”

“….Nope, I’m not interested.  I gotta go.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a sexual experience baby, that’s all it would be.”

*walking away dry heaving into my mask*

“Oh, ok, well thanks anyways!”

For the love of fuck, asshole.  I do your fucking taxes. I had half a mind to leave his docs with him, but I am propelled forwards by this self-destructive sense of compassion for people who are simply not worthy of it.

So, I’m worried about the type of person I am becoming.

After my initial twinge of sympathy at his plight with the motorcycle, I felt... nothing.  No sympathy, no emotional surge, no vindication.. just nothing.  I’m not rubbing my hands together with glee, but

As much as he is not deserving of my compassion, it worries me that I didn’t have any to give him.  I don’t want to be that person.

Rewarding and Challenging.

This job is exhausting.

I have spent multiple nights up until 2am planning, finding just the right exercises, wondering when a video would help and if they're understanding the content I'm showing them, worrying if the questions I've prepared to test their understanding are fair, questioning if I'm working too hard on grammar or not hard enough, stressing out over if they actually understand why/how we use modals, does the vocab I send them for reference actually increase their vocab recognition, are they overwhelmed or are they feeling unchallenged, am I helping, for the love of fuck am I helping?

My mother warned me about this.

Oopsie.

You know when you know something is a bad idea, but you do it anyways?

Have any of you figured out how to curb that yet?