I have spent all morning troubleshooting home network troubles. They had a guy in from the phone company and he did...things, leaving us partially operational. I called him for more deets, and apparently my father was clenched apprehensively for the phone call to go pear-shaped.
I insist "it's Jamaica" is not a good enough excuse for not paying attention to your work, but he insists that's just the way. However, I do know how to talk to people. I'm not sure why so many are afraid of me (that was a topic at the wedding--apparently I used to scare the shit out of the bride/my cousin--that hurts!), but I handled the call JUST FINE, THANKS FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, DADDY.
I admit to ribbing him by saying things like "It's okay--I will wait while you go check your records," but I do feel it's decent to give them an out that's couched in the best possible benefit method. He was tense and terse at first, but as soon as he properly realised I was the person that set the network up to do things he didn't understand, he warmed up to me.
Does Christmas just feel like a time of broken relatives because it's when most people get in touch? It's kind of sad.
I realised, my version of the LBD game (where you lose and lose BIG) is the Feliz Navidad game. Good lord, can I not stand that more...
And I just lost it, because Jamaican radio is that cheesy, and so is our helper. I really like her, but she has picked some cheesy radio this morning.
My father had the "here's what we want when we're infirm" conversation with me last night. Don't wanna! Can't we at least get past the gorging and gift-giving before we discuss handicap-retrofitting the house because neither of you want to go to homes? (And he doesn't expect me to come home, but something in the way he said it, made my stomach clench...)
Network not working, though.