So, Hubby and I are revamping our teaching studio and changing a few rules. So far, out of 72 students, we've had only ONE parent agree with the changes, and blessings to her for sure. We always knew she was sane.
Most of the more egregious parents fit into the group known around here as Potomac Moms. Loosely translated, that means fake-boobs-fake-hair-fake-smile-has-a-nanny-that-raises-my-extremely-bright-but-under-appreciated-children-who-are-allergic-to-everything-including-air-so-that-I-can-do-stressful-things-like-going-to-the-spa-to-be-prepped-for-my-ultimate-job-which-is-FAKE-MOM-because-I-can't-stand-the-sight-of-my-own-children-if-they're-not-otherwise-physically-restrained-so-they-won't-be-a-danger-to-my-nice-house-car-clothes-shoes-because-I-have-no-sense-of-reality-whatsoever.
My favorite responses so far have been:
- "But surely you can make an exception for us, right?" (from the lady who "forgot" the date of her son's high school graduation) Inner response: Screw you. Outer response: *smile* I'm afraid there are no exceptions. For. Anyone. Period.
-"Well, you know little Johnny can only have his lesson on Tuesdays between six and six-thirty in our homes. We know you have something scheduled then, but..." see above. Inner response: Johnny can also learn to practice and pay attention before you start making demands of me, thanks. And by the way-- HE HAS NO MUSICAL TALENT WHATSOEVER. Outer response: I simply don't see how that's an option. I didn't give it as one, after all?
-"And you still aren't teaching on Saturdays? You could make so much more money that way!!" Heh. Inner response: NOT. FREAKING. LIKELY. I'd lose my sanity and you'd still call me up to cancel five minutes after you're supposed to be here and I'd have to kill you. Slowly. As far as the money-- judging by your life, millions of dollars still won't keep your husband in your bed and out of the maid's, so I'll pass. Outer response: Well, Saturdays are reserved for my other gigs, like the Kennedy Center...
-"But I don't understand why there are no refunds...?" Inner response: Because, you shallow twit, I am neither your maid nor your chauffeur. Or your nanny. Bite me. I will not babysit your children when your tennis match gets rescheduled. Outer response: Because some people have sorely abused that privelege. Repeatedly.
-"But what if little Johnny has a school club meeting or baseball practice on the night of the recital? Or I have a spa retreat?"(I shit you not, this one's for real) Inner response: Then you just keep on walking, lady. Or paying someone to do it for you. If the world truly spins around your stilettos, then I'll go straight to Hell. If not, then you can scrub my floor when I get there. In Prada heels and a Chanel suit. Outer response: Right. Not likely. Next question?
-But Johnny's delicate disposition won't let him sit for thirty minutes to practice. After all, we're trying to be sensitive to his ADHD. Inner response- And you'd better be sensitive to my ITNBSM. INTERNAL THERMO-NUCLEAR BULLSHIT METER. Get the kid out from in front of the TV-- I promise it won't kill him. Outer response: Well, that's considered grounds for dismissal in our studio. Period.
Pardon me, but reality's at the door. With an eviction notice for you, Ms. PM. I am neither your maid, your babysitter, your child's positive reinforcement therapist, nor his ego gardener. Wake up and smell the caviar and crap.
