Bit of a fortune pick and mix assortment of late. For starters, I thought I was strong and worldy enough to deal with an online booking system (trying to book accommodation for a visiting friend) whose call centre appeared to be located somewhere out in Tajikistan and used up all my phone credit trying to sort out the whacky but inevitable fallout (which they obviously refused to sort out anyway but devised to keep me on line as long as possible while they avoided sorting out the problem).
In the end I myself solved the problem by calling someone competent – namely the hotel in question, who immediately cancelled my reservation no questions asked. Except I called from work because I had no more phone credit. And of course I got a telling off for making one, ONE measly personal call.
Still in my bad karmic loop, the next morning I got stuck in the train thanks to an epic door fail at my stop, so I was an hour late for work (who I couldn’t call because I ran out of credit yesterday evening) as regional train stops and services are few and far between, so the simple step of taking the next train coming in the other direction involved a long bit of waiting. Then I had to make up the time, and got another little telling off for good measure.
As far as I can tell the French employment industry swings between being unemployed and rejected, and employed and regularly chastised by megalomaniacs who like to put you in your place.
Then came the semi regular experience of Monsieur’s parents having one of their “episodes” and concocted some series of imaginary events that ended up with me being a manipulative villain and them being some unfortunate victims of circumstance. I love those situations where I get in trouble for something I haven’t done yet. Hell is other people’s parents, right?
Finally my karma balance shifted (conveniently coinciding with the partaking of cocktails). Spent the weekend playing tourguide in Paris (even in the face of craptacular weather) came to the belated realisation that my ‘cool bar in Montmarte, let me take you there’ is in fact shite and expensive (aaaah – disillusionment!) shopped, drank, visited the Musée d’Orsay, shared my physical space with Angelina Jolie and very nearly trampled on her child, drank…
Quite a karmic mix. I recommend introducing Angelina Jolie to Ben's parents. Or better yet, get her as guarantor on the apartment. Even better still, get her to buy you a small palace, which you could then rent to Ben's parents and various housemates, at very reasonable prices.