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Neanderthal Boogie
Jessica Alba, Jessica Biel and I had just gotten into the hot tub. Jessica Alba thought it might be a good idea if we had a contest to see who the best kisser was. She leaned in to kiss me, I closed my eyes as we move closer and… BANG BANG BANG! I was jolted awake; it was 9:30 AM and that banging scared the shit out of me, but what was it? BANG BANG BANG again, someone at my door. Then I hear a key slipping in the keyhole and turning. Now I’m freaking out. “Hello James, it’s Paul from maintenance”. I’m no longer freaked out, Paul is a nice guy, and brings any notices from the management into my apartment, instead of just leaving it on the door. He has a woman with him, the new apartment manager. He informs me that on Friday the entire building is being fogged for bugs. “But I don’t have bugs” I told him smugly, obviously I just won this little encounter. Then the new manager stepped in; “yes, but if we fog every apartment except yours then all the bugs will just make their way in here.” Well played manager lady, well played. So I begin to ask some questions such as; how long will I have to be out of the apartment for? Will it affect my electronics? Can you hold off until the afternoon so that my attendant can get me in my chair and outside?
These seem like coherent, intelligent questions to me, but apparently not to manager lady. She asks me if I have a “social worker” she can talk to so that they can explain these things to me. It took everything I had not to spit in her face and call her a dirty fucking whore for that comment. I maintain my composure and explain to her that I will explain everything to my attendant and the apartment will be ready on Friday. They leave, I calmed down and read through the list I was given of things to do to prepare the apartment for fogging. The day progresses, my attendant has arrived, I’m calm everything is good. I have my daily shower, I’m in my bedroom, not dressed yet, hair still wet, fucking sexy as hell. My attendant is getting my clothes when BANG BANG BANG at the door again. What the fuck? My attendant goes to the door and answers. It’s Paul again. I don’t go out there because I’m naked but I hear everything. Manager lady has sent Paul to ask my attendant how to get in touch with my social worker, so that they can make sure I understand what’s going on. Are you fucking kidding me? I was fuming, I almost rolled out there butt ass naked to tell this guy what is up. My attendant attempts to explain that I am competent, and that there is no social worker, or anyone else. I handle my own affairs. So he says okay. I was furious for the rest of the day and into the night. If I had gone down there right then, I would probably have been evicted for calling her a cunt and spitting in her face. Today my other attendant was here, she’s a very timid, soft-spoken woman. She spent a good part of the day getting the apartment ready for tomorrow’s fogging. At one point she went to go check my mail, which happens to be right next to the manager’s office. Manager lady approaches her and asks again for my social worker. I told earlier in the day what happened the day before and how angry it made me, she completely understood. So my timid attendant explains to manager lady how angry I was about this, that there is nothing wrong with my mind, and that it is rude for her to assume that because I have a physical disability, I also have a mental disability, and that she needs to stop stereotyping me. Manager lady says that she senses I was angry and she feels bad about that. Before the conversation ends though, she asks one more time if there’s someone she can call to make sure that I understand what is going on… My attendant, is now just as angry as I am, and is seriously wondering if perhaps manager lady needs a social worker of her own.
The stereotype of every disabled person having a mental disability as well has always bothered me. It’s silly, old world thinking, and if you believe it then you are just an ignorant fuck, and you deserve to be ass raped by a tiger.
Usually when confronted with someone who assumes that I’m a retard, I just set them straight and can quickly laugh it off. This time though, being insulted like that in my own home has really angered me, and beyond anger it hurt me. I don’t know why I’m so much more bothered by this incident, but I am. I don’t know how I’ll deal with this lady the next time I see her; I can’t just put on a fake smile and pretend everything is okay, and I can’t let my anger take control because if I do and I cross the line I could be evicted. Normally, finding the middle ground is easy for me but not this time. Any suggestions?
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12 comments February 6, 2009
