A Deal with the Devil

Sigh.

I know its been a million years since I’ve blessed you with my presence, but life has been hectic, to say the least.

Many of you know that I’m opening my one shop in short order.  It’s been a long road, but I feel optimistic about things.

Except…

See, CHEF ended up getting shit canned from his teaching role at the Academy earlier this month. Perhaps ‘shit canned’ is the wrong term to use since it was more a function of the economy than anything else. Regardless, the point is that he suddenly became available. I should be thrilled, right?

Wrong. For SO MANY REASONS.

See, prior to his departure from the Academy, CHEF and I hadn’t really spoken for some time. We were getting on each other’s nerves (or at least HE was getting on MY nerves) and I made a decision to eject him from my life. ‘Toxic’ was word I used to describe our friendship. But lo and behold, the minute he loses his job, he texts me ‘Well, I guess you’ll be happy now’.  I had no idea to what he was referring, so I made the epic error of responding and asking what happened.

Why was it an error? Because y’all know me. I can’t see a drowning puppy and not try to save it. And yes, I think CHEF is well aware of that.  Why else would he contact me, unless he needed something from me?

Answer: He wouldn’t.

But lucky for me, I happened to need him, too. It was quite fortuitous timing, actually. My opening had been delayed and I was desperate to start production to build some inventory, but apparently the building inspector disagreed. So now just as I’m really screwed, a light goes on and here’s my savior. He termed it ‘an angel must be looking out for me’.

Um. Yeah. An ANGEL. And that angel is called, ‘My Husband’.

But more about that later.

So in order to make things official, Hubby, CHEF and I struck a deal. We’d pay him an obscene amount of money to be at my beck and call for 8 weeks, through the end of the year. This period of consultation began on Tuesday.

I should add that CHEF has been staying at my lake house for the last few weeks. He came up by train and stayed for a weekend at first.  His lease is up at the end of the month, so it made sense for him to give up his apartment and find a situation that was less expensive. He signed a six month lease with…

You know what? All that shit is immaterial. The bottom line is that CHEF is a wonderful asset and I’m lucky to have him. It’s also true that he’s a shitty friend and just about the most self-involved person I’ve ever met. Everything is about HIM. I’m in a bad mood, so it must mean I’m mad at HIM. And he takes everything so fucking personally! Sometimes a bad mood is just that: a bad mood. And I have a right to be cranky- everything seems to be going wrong with the shop and I was frustrated. But no, it’s all about him so he’s pissed off and cranked out of joint all fucking day. Fine- I avoided him and went about my business.

Truthfully, I’ve never imagined that my actions would have an impact on anyone. My moods don’t seem to affect Hubby or the kiddos, although THING #2 can read me like a book and knows exactly when I need a hug. But even so, why on earth would I assume that CHEF gave a shit about what I think of him? Because he doesn’t. He gives a shit about HIMSELF.

Now, we all have the right to be selfish and to engage in some self-protective measures, especially when the chips are down, but for fucks sake! I’m trying to help him! I’ve bent over backwards to help him: He’s living rent free in a million dollar lake home, with boats, jet skis, wine, beer, food, etc. at his disposal. He’s getting paid, and just in the nick of time, it seems. I’m offering financial, emotional and legal support and do I get any gratitude? No. What I get is a daily lament about how much his life sucks.

And that hurts me.

It probably shouldn’t, but it does. The truth is that he resents the fuck out of me for having a lifestyle that he doesn’t think I earned or deserve. And while he’s right, I also don’t deserve to be treated like a pariah when all my ‘privilege’ had been at his feet. He wouldn’t have come up here to help me unless he was getting paid to do so, and that makes him an employee, not a friend. And frankly, I’m getting a bit tired of being treated like a spoiled, indulged, bored and rich housewife.

I may not have been born into this life, or worked for it, but I’m grateful as fuck for it and I try my best to share my good fortune with everyone. And yes, even assholes like CHEF.

So I’m locked into this contract and you better believe that I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth. He’s in the process of starting his own consulting firm, and it would seem that I’m his first client. Never mind the fact that he’s made it ABUNDANTLY clear that he does not want to be associated with me in a public forum.  I can’t post pics of his working in my kitchen on Instagram, I can’t mention him on Facebook or whatever. It’s as though he is ashamed of what he’s doing for me.

Fine. Be that way. I’ll turn it around and keep your name to myself when I speak to influential people in the industry from whom he could benefit. I’ll take credit for all of his work and go on my merry way.

And having made that decision, I feel more confident than I have in a long time.

Maybe I’ll get my money’s  worth after all.