Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me – isn’t that how the old saying goes?
I hate to admit it, but I’ve come to accept I’m more a ‘fool me 30 times, and you may be in for a stern sit-down chat’ kinda gal. I’m not just talking about romantic relationships (although, as I cast my mind back, some of them would certainly fall into that column); I’m referring to every chapter in my yet-unwritten bestselling book, from ‘Plumbers Rehired That Ruined My Pipes’ (no euphemism intended) to ‘The Sales Rep Who Ghosted Me’ – or was it Gaslighted? What is the past tense of that word anyway? I have to say, ‘Gaslit’ sits with me more comfortably. But I digress…
How many of us have had a bad experience with someone or a company, and have decided to never engage with them again, only to find ourselves having to go back to them? Just me? As far as the company thing goes, sometimes they’ll be the only one who carries exactly what I need. On a small island like this, it happens, believe me. Or, I have to return to the scene of a crime where a salesperson was rude, but I require a refund on something I bought.
“We can’t give you a refund, but we’ll give you a credit.” Drives me barmy! Why would I want a credit for a store that annoyed me in the first place, whose door I would never wish to darken again?
“I am never shopping here again… right after I use this credit I’m forced to accept!”
I think once I was told by a shop clerk that I would only be able to receive a refund if the box was completely intact and everything was repacked exactly correctly. Really? Have you ever tried to repack anything once it’s been opened? It’s like the Styrofoam expands, bags disappear into the ether and cables double in length. Robots do this for a living on an assembly line – no human can compete. They’re setting you up to fail. Without Rumpelstiltskin, no one’s spinning that straw into gold.
I also remember an incident, years ago, when I erupted on the owner of a business because they were being completely unreasonable and had me over a barrel (again, no euphemism intended). As I flounced out the door, I announced that they would never see me again… and they didn’t, because a month later, I sent a friend like the proverbial canary into the coal mine to get me an item I required. At least I stuck to my principles… sort of.
It isn’t just about business transactions, when it comes to being fooled more than twice. I’m pretty sure we’ve all had at least one ‘friend’ in our lives who ghosts, gaslights, doesn’t show up, makes excuses and generally turns into a bit of a user. We, in turn, justify the way they behave and keep giving them second chances, when really, we should be kicking them to the kerb. I can’t recall the exact words, but all parents, at some point, have spoken a variation of, “If they can’t be bothered to make the effort for you, then they’re not your friend.” It’s hard to see it when you’re younger, but as you get older, you realise the wisdom in the statement.
My bestie Lynne was a lucky find, and we both put in the work. I made the effort to help curb her of her bad habit at happy hours, where she’d try to drag everyone into political discussions; while she made the effort to have me see that overspending on nonsense and ending each month in debt was not a sustainable plan.
Of course, we all know the true test of friendship is when one is willing to hold back the other’s hair while they’re sick. Naturally, I’m speaking hypothetically. (Ahhh… Rumheads, Monkey Business, Sharkey’s… how much do I miss thee?)
In my everyday life, when it comes to giving someone the benefit of the doubt, I really do try to hope for the best in people. It doesn’t always work out. Sometimes it even comes back to bite me. I think my favourite was when a guy came to our door saying he’d just got out of prison, and did we have any old clothes he could take? I couldn’t put my hands immediately upon any, but I told him to come back the next night and we’d have a bag for him. He came back and got the clothes. Two weeks later, he burgled our house.
Another time I tried to do a good deed, I nearly really put my foot in it. I got home to find a man walking up our road. He asked if I could give him a ride to West Bay – I was driving a red convertible at the time (a Dodge Shadow, so don’t be impressed). I was just back from work, but I thought, “What the heck.” I was about to agree, when he told me he could pay.
“Oh, well then, in that case, let me call you a taxi!”
I went upstairs and called a cab, then came back down to let him know it was on its way and to bring him a glass of water (I was brought up proper). I couldn’t see him anywhere, but what certainly stood out was the flashing police car lights at the end of our street.
He then called out from behind a vehicle where he was crouched.
I gave him the water, told him the taxi had been called, and mentioned that there appeared to be members of the RCIPS in our neighbourhood.
Ummm… Vicki? The thing is, I sorta on parole,” he divulged in a muffled voice.
I’m surprised we hadn’t dated.
At that moment, I saw a taxi bus pass my condo. “I’ll just be back,” I said.
I went to the cops, asked who they were looking for, they told me, I sighed and indicated my new friend’s location, then explained to the taxi driver that she probably wouldn’t be getting a fare that night. I paid her $10 for her trouble.
The police found him and arrested him. Turned out he had stolen the day’s takings from Beach Club Colony, which was just up the beach. Imagine me, driving the thief home with his winnings in my red convertible. Then-Chief Superintendent Derek Haines had a field day with that story.
I really should have learned my lesson by now, but nah… I’ll probably never change.
Remember the famous quote, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results”? Consider me certifiable.
Related Videos
