Smashed

I've got to write this down because it's bugging me so much. It's super stressful.

So I am waiting in my car to pull out of a parking spot in the carpark at our kids' school. Every evening there's a long line of traffic waiting to get out onto the road that the school is on, and it backs up into the carpark. So you take your chance to back out of your spot when you can. So the guy next to me backs out, and the woman who left the space for him still hasn't moved, so I back out too. I look over my shoulder: all clear, and off I go.

Crunch! At first I'm like, how the fuck can there be a car there? So I get out and I realise that the woman has purposely driven her car into the way to cut me off so that I can't back out. I didn't see her move forward, obv., or I would have stopped. I am pretty sure she knew I was backing out. I had been waiting with my indicator on for a long time, cars are backing out wherever they can, and once the way was clear, of course I was going to go.

So I'm like, what the bloody hell did you do that for?
And she's like, it's such a long line and I've been waiting ages.
And I'm like, so you made me fucking crash?

Because I can't believe it. That's exactly what she has done. She has hooked it into the gap that I'm pulling out into because she won't wait for another car.

So she is getting her notebook out, and it's teeming with rain. She is yelling at me about how I ran into her. I am like, you have to be kidding, you put your car behind mine on purpose. She keeps yelling and is not doing anything with her pen.

So I'm like, just swap fucking numbers, you cunt.
She's like, you set a good example for your kids.
And I'm like, yeah and I suppose making someone crash their fucking car is setting a great example.

So she goes, I'm just going to take your licence plate for the insurance.
I'm like, fine, and get back into my car.

So there's a notice in the newsletter from the school: the police are searching for witnesses to a car accident. I'm freaking out. It's probably just that she has made a claim on her insurance and they have told her she has to get a police report.

I suppose it's going to be expensive for me. I drove into her and that's all that's going to matter. That she purposely put her car in my road doesn't matter.

Well, that's all I need. My boss has no work for me. My big project is delayed. I have 2K dollars in my England account and barely a K in my transaction account. I am supposed to prove that I have the funds to support Mrs Zen when we go to the UK or she can be refused a visa. I am underemployed and my outgoings will be greater in the UK. I mean, I hope to get a jerb but my CV is all over the place and I haven't even had a reply from the past half dozen places I've sent it to.

I am sick of it, you know. Sick of this useless life. Sick of stress, of boredom, of people who just fuck you up because they have no regard for anyone else, sick of a boss who hires someone else to do my job because she doesn't feel comfortable briefing by email, sick of women who cause a crash because they are not patient, of people who swerve in front of me in the road, missing by inches, and flick the finger when you sound your horn instead of feeling shame that they have endangered your life and theirs, sick of fear, of emptiness, sick of feeling sick.

posted by Dr Zen @ 4:06 pm