“Du jobbar i en djuraffär, så ta med kattmat till oss”: något jag har hört från min frus föräldrar

Det kan väl vara schysst att säga att jag nyligen fått jobb på en djuraffär här i Stockholm. Min provanställning tog slut i juni, därefter blev jag en del av den fasta personalen. Låt mig förklara vad det innebär.

Hos oss på djuraffären är det så att de som är fast anställda får ta med sig hem varor som tagits ur sortimentet varje månad. Det kan vara till exempel djurfoder med skadad förpackning eller som snart går ut, eller tillbehör med små fabrikationsfel.

Vi kommer alltid överens om vem som tar vad. Jag har inga egna djur hemma, men brukar ändå få något med mig.

Första gången fick jag med mig en påse kattmat. Eftersom min frus föräldrar har katt hemma i Täby, tog jag med maten till dem.

Efter det insåg jag att jag alltid försöker ta med något till katter.

Nästa gång kom jag hem med en kattklösbräda som var lite trasig, men svärmor lyckades enkelt sy ihop den.

Dock, när jag lämnade över klösbrädan var de inte så nöjda. Maten hade redan tagit slut, så istället för tacksamhet hörde jag:

Du kunde väl ha tagit med maten istället, varför kom du bara med detta?

Det var lite tråkigt, särskilt eftersom jag sist hade förklarat för dem hur vi fick tag på varorna. Jag påminde dem igen, och de låtsades förstå och lyssna.

På vägen hem föreslog jag för min fru att vi varje månad kunde köpa bra kattmat till hennes föräldrars katt. Fick jag något gratis, så skulle jag naturligtvis hämta ut det också. Det blev vår deal.

Det märkligaste var att efter bara en månad var tio kilo kattmat ändå slut. Jag frågade svärmor om det, och då erkände hon att hon redan hade lovat grannen att hon skulle ta med mat därifrån också.

Hon visste ju att jag skulle komma med mer, så hon gav bort från sitt lager, och vi fick lov att köpa dyr specialmat. Jag förklarade igen att maten jag tog med var tänkt åt deras egen katt.

Till svar fick jag denna upprördhet:

Du jobbar ju i djuraffär!

De verkade ändå tro att jag medvetet undanhöll dem mat.

Där och då kände jag att det fick vara nog. Jag sa helt ärligt till frugans föräldrar att jag i princip inte tänkte ta med mig något mer. Det var dags att sluta hoppas på gratisprylar från min sida.

Rate article
Add a comment

;-) :| :x :twisted: :smile: :shock: :sad: :roll: :razz: :oops: :o :mrgreen: :lol: :idea: :grin: :evil: :cry: :cool: :arrow: :???: :?: :!:

“Du jobbar i en djuraffär, så ta med kattmat till oss”: något jag har hört från min frus föräldrar
She Taught Him a Lesson — Why should I help you? So you can waste even more time on your ridiculous job? You chose this life. Dad says you just don’t know how to live in the moment. — Your dad doesn’t pay the rent or buy your food! — Oksana snapped. — Living in the moment is easy when you don’t pay for anything! Get up right now and clean up your mess! Kirill leaped up, tossing his phone onto the bed. — Sod off! I hate you! Oksana entered her son’s room without knocking. She was already in her work blouse, carefully ironed the night before, but her eyes showed chronic exhaustion — thin red lines danced across the whites. — Five minutes, Kira. Time to get up. The boy didn’t even raise an eyebrow. — I hear you, — he grumbled, eyes glued to his game. — You’ve been saying “I hear you” for half an hour. Breakfast is on the table. Put your phone on your dresser. You’ll be late for school. — Sick of you and your school! — Kirill exploded, tossing off his duvet. — Why are you always nagging? I can wake up by myself. Oksana froze at the door. Every outburst was a punch to the gut. She was working two jobs, doing the accounts for a small office in the evenings so he could have decent trainers, that very phone, internet. For eight years she had managed all this alone, not a single penny in child support from the man who called himself a father. — Is that how you talk to me? — Oksana stepped further into the room. — I’m your mum. I’m just asking you to get up and eat on time. — You only know how to shout — Kirill smirked cruelly. — Wish I could just get out of here! You drive me mad! — And where would you go? To your dad? — Oksana felt a bitter sting rising. — He didn’t even answer yesterday when I rang to ask for money for your English classes. He hasn’t got a job, Kira. How’s he going to feed you? — At least he doesn’t nag me for every bad grade! He’s fine, you’re the nasty one! Kirill stormed out, brushing past her, and minutes later the front door slammed. Oksana glanced at the clock — in forty minutes she had to be at the office, and after six, after work, another report to finish at home. Her whole life was mapped out, minute by minute, just to scrape by at the end of the month. Her phone beeped — a message from her ex, Anton: “Will pop in to see my son at three. No money right now, will ring you about that next week.” — He’ll “pop in”, — Oksana fumed. — Like a visitor to a zoo! *** At three Anton actually did show up — Oksana found out from her son’s excited voice. — Mum, Dad’s here! We’re playing FIFA! He says school is nonsense, you just need charisma in life! That’s how you make it. — Kira, stop playing and do your homework! — Oksana struggled to keep from yelling. — Tell your dad it’s time to go. — You spoil everything! — her son retorted, — You’re just jealous Dad and I get along. You’re like some old batty teacher! He hung up. Oksana gritted her teeth. Stay calm. He’s just a teenager, that’s why he’s rebellious… We’ll talk again at home. Work was tough. All Oksana wanted was to get home fast. She walked into chaos — sweet wrappers littered the lounge carpet, the sofa was trashed, and a mountain of dirty dishes filled the sink. Anton was already gone, and her son had barricaded himself in his room again. She knocked — no answer. She had to go in without invitation. — Kirill, get up and tidy the kitchen, she asked. — Don’t want to. — Kira, please! I’ve just got in from work, I’m shattered. Help me out. He jumped up, anger burning in his ten-year-old eyes — so fierce, she was startled. She didn’t recognize this boy. Where was the sweet child who, a few years ago, had fallen asleep on her shoulder? Now before her stood an angry, bristling adolescent, seeing only an enemy in her. — I hate you! — Kirill screamed. — All you do is order me about! Clean this, fetch that, study! I can’t wait to grow up and get out! — And go where, Kira? — Oksana leaned against the doorframe. — Your dad? He hasn’t even got a bed for you. He lives in a grotty flat with peeling wallpaper. — At least he doesn’t do my head in! — Kirill snatched his pillow, hurling it at the wall. — He gets me! You just work like a robot and want me to do the same! I don’t want your trainers or your English. I just want to live! — Just live — like what? On your phone all day? — Oksana stepped closer. — If I stop working, we lose electricity, the fridge will be empty. What will you eat? How will you charge your phone? Kirill began screeching. — I’d rather go hungry than stay with you! You’re mean! Always mean! Oksana felt something snap inside. She was done arguing, done trying to prove herself. She was exhausted. Eight years of endless struggle, just to be called “mean”… — Fine, — she said quietly. — If you want to go to your dad’s, call him. Right now. Kirill stared. — I will! — he grabbed the phone. — Do it. Put it on speaker. If he says you can stay even a week — I’ll pack your bag. Kirill, triumphant, dialed his number. Oksana stood, heart pounding, counting each ring. Faint muttering came on the line. — Hello… Who’s this? — Dad, it’s me, Kira! — the boy gabbled. — Dad, I want to come to yours. Mum’s doing my head in, shouting, homework… Can I come now? Or tomorrow? — Kir… — Anton hiccuped. — This ain’t a good time. Got… friends round. Men’s business, you know? — Dad, please! Mum says she’ll pack my things if you say yes. I’ll help you out, honestly! — Look, kid… — Anton sounded annoyed now. — Tell your mum to stop winding me up. I’ve got no money to feed you. Nowhere for you to sleep. There’s… building work here. Got it? Building work. Alright, cheers! See you on your birthday. The phone went dead. Kirill turned away, burying himself under the blanket. — Go away, — came his muffled reply. — We’re not done, — Oksana sat on the bed. — I’ve carried you for eight years. I work extra jobs for your future. And you call me “mean” for making you study? You know what’s easiest? Being “kind” like your father. Show up once a month, let you play games, make you promises, then vanish. That’s not kindness, Kira. That’s cowardice and indifference. He doesn’t care about you. — Not true! — Kirill shouted. — Oh, it is. Time to face it. From now on, the rules change. If you won’t live by my rules — you live by your own. I’m taking your phone. — What?! You can’t do that! — He poked his head out. — I can. I bought it, I pay the bills. If you want a gadget, earn it. By helping at home, getting good marks, doing your bit. Nothing will come for free anymore. I’m not a robot, Kira. I’m a person. And I want respect in my own home! Oksana held out her hand. Kirill stared for a long time, then reluctantly handed over his phone. — Go have dinner, — she stood up. — After, I’ll check your maths. And if I hear another rude word — you’ll wear your old trainers to school; I’ll take the new ones back to the shop. *** Two days passed. Kirill sulkily did the chores Oksana left before work, kept quiet, but wasn’t cheeky. Oksana saw how hard not playing was for him, but she didn’t back down. She knew: give in now, and she’d lose him forever. On Friday evening there was a bang at the door. — Open up! Oksanka, I know you’re in! — Anton’s voice boomed through the flat. — Let me see my son! Oksana’s blood ran cold. She looked through the spyhole: her ex swayed there, jacket undone, face puffy. — Leave, Anton. You’re not seeing your son like this. — Don’t tell me what to do! — A kick at the door. — My son wanted to see me! You’re torturing him! Come out and talk to me! Kirill poked his head out of his bedroom. — Mum, is that Dad? — he whispered. — Yes, Kira. Your “cool” dad. Want to see him? The banging continued. Anton started swearing, blaming her for “turning the lad against his dad”. The racket was so bad neighbours began to emerge. — Oksanka, lend me some cash! — suddenly Anton begged. — Pipes are bursting, you know? Just a bit, I’ll pay it back tomorrow, promise! Son, back me up! Kirill stood by the door, listening to the slurred, angry, pleading voice. He looked horrified, then disgusted. — Dad, go away, — Kirill said, suddenly loud and clear. — Kira? That you? Fancy slipping your old man a tenner? Or twenty? Mum won’t notice — she’s rolling in it. Go on, help out, be a man! Kirill turned to his mother. — Mum, call the police, — he whispered. — Please. He’ll break down the door, and it’s embarrassing in front of the neighbours. Oksana nodded, rang 999. As she spoke to the operator, Anton raged and threatened outside, yelling he’d take Kirill through the courts, that Oksana would regret this. The police arrived quickly — heavy boots, clipped orders, handcuffs snapping shut. Anton’s ranting faded as the front door shut behind him. Kirill quietly hugged his mum’s waist, snuffling, fighting back tears. — Mum, I’m sorry… I don’t want him, not really… Oksana stroked his head. — It’ll be alright, son. I’m not angry. *** Her relationship with Kirill, though still fragile, began to mend. He still rebelled sometimes, showed his independence, but the venom had gone. Oksana kept talking to him, explaining right from wrong. Her ex vanished again — after 15 days in the cells, he never rang. And the boy didn’t expect him back.