Two
Job Woes
Jess had a job at a paper-recycling trucking yard in Detroit, but that was not going well. I worked at Ford in Dearborn. Her office was close by, just inside the Detroit city limits, so we drove together to work.
As the weeks went by, her conflicts with people at her job increased. I noticed that she was easily offended and put off by situations, far more than most people. A few of her reasons for getting angry were justified, but most were not. She could not let comments go and took them to heart even if people didn’t mean to offend her. I gave her the benefit of the doubt because this was a trucking company and she had to deal with some pretty rough truck drivers. Some of them were very crude. We talked a lot about dealing with them, and I tried to help her not get so easily offended. Nothing helped, and I chalked it up to the place being too unrefined for a very sensitive woman to tolerate.
There was one time I fully supported her in going to human resources over a coworker’s exceptionally obscene comment. The guy said he had gone to Thailand once and noticed there were a lot of prostitutes there. Then he told Jess, “I think I met your mother.” Jess was very upset when she came home and was crying. I was extremely pissed off, and my first reaction was to go over there and confront him. Jess and I talked for a while, and I told her she must go to HR and report him. No one should have to tolerate that type of behavior—even if he was joking.
One of her coworkers there, Shelly, didn’t take crap from anyone. She would not hold back from getting in someone’s face and telling him off with a string of f-bombs and other cursing. She and Jess got along well, and Jess told me many fond stories of how Shelly took care of situations and how everyone there knew not to mess with her. There were a few times we got together outside of work, and Shelly was a riot and fun to be around except for the cursing. Shelly also protected Jess quite a bit; she knew how sensitive Jess was. Jess asked me once if she should be more like Shelly, and I said, “Absolutely not.” I asked her what I could do to help her not get so offended and hurt by what others said. But all she said was to listen to her, so I did.
Jess’s job situation got worse; she was miserable working there, and then she stopped. I never did get a straight answer from her about whether she was laid off, was fired, or had quit. Had she been laid off, she could have received unemployment benefits for a while. I brought this up, but she dodged the question. It was better that she was not working there anymore, so I didn’t press the issue.
Before we met, Jess had held a job at an automotive supplier, but that only lasted two months. She never told me why that didn’t last longer.
One other thing about her job irked us both. Because her office was located one block inside the city limits of Detroit, the city deducted Detroit taxes from her paycheck. What a rip-off. Why should she have to pay for the hassle of working in that crime-ridden city? Ever since then, even after my divorce, I have avoided Detroit as much as possible out of principle. The amount of revenue that city has lost from me now far exceeds the amount of city taxes they took from her paycheck.
Jess sometimes told me stories of how she loved having her own business in Thailand. It was an import-export business for wine, but she claimed her business partner had run off with funds and stuck her with the bill when the Thai economy took a dive. She had also worked at a flower shop her family owned. She began to talk more about starting her own business but was unsure about what to do.
Jess didn’t look or try much to get back to work. She enjoyed not having to go to work and tried to justify not looking for a job. She told me that keeping the house clean and cooking great meals to make me happy also made her happy. We had many talks about this, and I tried to make her understand that I was a simple guy, had lived on my own since I was eighteen, and didn’t need anyone to take care of me. I only wanted to love her and be loved. In fact, having someone constantly fuss over me was irritating.
Jess wouldn’t try to understand my needs. She had this idea in her head about how I should be treated, and that was it. She had convinced herself that taking care of me was better than getting a job or starting a business. It was also far easier to stay at home while I worked to pay the bills. Procrastination on her part was also responsible for her not looking for a job.
Eventually Jess got a job at a bookstore in Ann Arbor. That didn’t last long. I began to wonder why Jess couldn’t hold a job. She always gave some excuse about why other people caused problems and how she was the innocent victim.
A while later Jess told me she had contacted a woman who needed a helper to promote a fashion concept. The woman had health issues and could not work outside her home. Jess set up a meeting and wanted me to go along. The woman sent Jess instructions about what types of fabrics we could wear to her house and what soap to use when we showered. We had to start this ritual a few days before the meeting and were required to wash our clothes in special soap and in a certain way. This situation seemed very weird. Right away the alarm bells started going off in my head. Jess said the woman had severe allergies and could not have traces of chemicals in her home or she would get very sick.
We arrived at the woman’s home, but before we came in, she questioned us about the procedures we had followed. Jess told her what we had done, but the woman was still unsure and eventually let us in after more interrogation. She started the conversation by telling us in extreme detail about what was wrong with her and how she had severe reactions to the modern world, which is full of toxic chemicals and artificial scents.
I looked around her house and saw a lot of furniture with commercial dyes, paints, lacquers, and polyurethane. I couldn’t resist asking her about the types of finishes on wood she could tolerate, and she went into a rambling explanation about why the furniture she had was OK. It made no sense. I told her I did woodworking as a hobby and that shellac would be an ideal finish for her, as it’s a natural excretion by the lac bug. The resin produced by the bug is dissolved in alcohol and applied to the wood, and then the alcohol evaporates, leaving no chemical traces. She looked at me in horror and said I was wrong, claiming that shellac was extremely toxic. Her statement confirmed my suspicions: she was just plain nuts. I knew this was a situation to keep far away from Jess and me.
Jess and the woman started talking about her fashion concept. It was a woman’s sock with a zipper on it. She had grand plans that it would be the next fashion craze with teenage girls, but she needed someone else to do all the legwork for her because she could not leave her house. We reviewed her business terms and the compensation Jess would get for all her labor. The terms were completely unreasonable, with Jess doing all the traveling and meeting with clients. Jess would get very small commissions, which would not cover her expenses. Jess talked a bit with her to negotiate a better deal, but the sock lady wouldn’t budge. When we were done, Jess asked to review the contract at home and propose changes. The woman was very hesitant but said she was going to e-mail Jess. I don’t know if that ever happened.
We left, and while driving home, we laughed at just how unreal this woman’s expectations were and how irrational her so-called reactions to chemicals were. Jess told me even she knew that shellac was a natural finish with no chemicals, and when the woman disagreed with me, Jess knew the woman had irrational issues. Jess named her the “crazy bubble lady,” comparing her to the movie Bubble Boy. I said that dealing with this woman and her issues would not be worth the trouble. Jess talked with her a few more times, but nothing ever came from it. I thought the sock concept was silly anyway and was glad Jess didn’t get involved with this. But then I know nothing about what teenage girls consider fashionable, and I don’t care to learn.
Jess met a couple of Thai women in the Ann Arbor area and became friends with them. One of them was Preeda, who was married to a man named Jay. They were involved in a multilevel marketing phone company called Excel Communications, and Jess wanted to get involved. Oh, crap, I thought, not an MLM; those are pretty much all scams. I really tried
to talk her out of this and showed her horror stories from other people sucked into MLMs, but she would not relent. Jay showed us marketing brochures about how they were the first MLM business model to be in telecommunication and how it would be very lucrative. Jess showed me the pyramid model’s projections about how much she could make by all the downstream sales and was excited about this. Nothing I said could change her mind; this MLM had another victim, and it was my wife. Damn.
Jess signed up, paid for and took the required classes, paid other ridiculous fees, and then tried to get other people to sign up also. The problem was that it was a very feeble, halfhearted effort, and she stopped trying in a few weeks. Little did I know that this was a pattern in her life. She would get excited about and start something, but she didn’t follow through or put in the required effort. If it was not fun, she stopped. We lost about $1,500 with this MLM scam.
Other than her job situation, our marriage was great, and we were deeply in love. She even laughed at all my stupid jokes. We acted like kids a lot at home and went into a phase of trying to scare each other. Jess would hide and try to sneak up and scare me. Usually it worked. She got me more often than I got her.
One time her attempt really backfired. I was in the shower and saw her shadow slowly creeping up on the shower curtain. I threw back the curtain and yelled, “Ha!” at her. It took her by such surprise that she actually leaped off the floor and came down huddled and shaking. She looked up at me like a scared little kitten as if it were my fault. We both laughed about that later in the evening. She said she’d felt like a cat in a cartoon that when scared, leaps up and clings to the ceiling.
One time I took the scaring routine a bit too far. It was close to Halloween, and the Red Cross was giving out glow-in-the-dark vampire teeth to people who donated blood. I donated, got my pair of fake teeth, and set the plan in motion to scare her.
That night, around two in the morning, she was sound asleep. I got the vampire teeth out, charged them up with a flashlight so they glowed, put them in my mouth, and then leaned over her. I shook her gently while saying “Honey” to wake her up. When her eyes opened, I let out a loud hiss, opening my mouth wide to bare the glowing teeth. She screamed, freaked out, and began violently shivering.
Her reaction and fear were incredibly extreme. I had crossed the line. It was more than simply crossing it; I had obliterated that line. I felt horrible. Because it was very early in our marriage, I had no idea how sensitive she was to this type of thing. Later in the month, we went to a haunted house, and she had to be taken out by the staff because she couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t because of the vampire-teeth incident; she couldn’t handle anyone dressed up as ghosts or zombies jumping out at her. We never went to a haunted house together again. I told the vampire-teeth story to people and got very different reactions. Many men thought it was hilarious, but almost all women gave me a disparaging look and said something like, “You did what?”
Even though Jess was so sensitive to Halloween ghouls, ghosts, and zombies, she wanted to see the occasional horror movie. It was an emotional jolt that she enjoyed, but it usually ended up with her being very disturbed for the following few days. A couple of years later after the vampire-teeth incident, she wanted to see Drag Me to Hell at the dollar theater. I asked her if she really wanted to and if she knew that she would have sleepless nights and bad dreams afterward. Jess persisted, so we went.
Jess was sitting in the aisle seat; she didn’t want to feel trapped in the middle of the row. About halfway through the movie, Jess started hitting and pulling on my arm. She was freaking out, her eyes wide. She pointed at the aisle and said to me, “Look! Look!”
An empty baby stroller had rolled down the aisle, and it stopped right next to Jess. My first thought was simply that someone’s stroller got loose and rolled down. I also thought it was inappropriate to bring a baby or toddler to a movie like this. Jess didn’t view the stroller as I did. She thought the stroller was possessed and had targeted her. A minute later a woman walked down and got her stroller, looked at Jess, and said sorry. The damage was done. Jess was a mess, but she still wanted to see the rest of the movie. After the movie, we met the couple with the baby stroller, and we talked briefly. I thought it was funny, but Jess remained shaken by the stroller. She calmed down a little bit after talking to the woman, but she had nightmares the next few nights.
After the Excel mess, Jess went into the same mode again of not trying to do anything with her life. She would make herself busy with unimportant activities that left her unfulfilled. She did some clothing alterations for people, and then a friend asked Jess if she could shorten the sleeves of a sweater. Sure, she could—Jess was incredibly talented at clothing design and alteration. After that, a few more people came to her, and she altered their sweaters too.
Jess came up with the idea of starting a company to alter sweaters since this type of alteration did not exist. I told her it might take off, but I’m a guy and am content with just rolling up my sleeves—I wouldn’t pay for an alteration. She had this puzzled look and said, “But it doesn’t look good.” I didn’t think there was much of a market for this, but I supported her anyway. Even if it didn’t work, the investment was minimal, so the financial loss wasn’t an issue. Knitting needles and yarn were cheap, and she would buy the yarn as needed to match sweaters. She would also unravel the existing yarn from the sweater’s excess length to create a matching hem.
We worked together to come up with a name, Wool Creations. She registered the business name with Washtenaw County in August 2001. I set up a web server and created a website and e-mail accounts. She got a business license, contacted people, and sent out fliers and advertisements.
Her business didn’t do much, and the excitement wore off within a few months. Just like Excel. She stopped trying, even though I spent a lot of time helping and encouraging her. The initial thrill had died, and it wasn’t fun anymore. She continued with a few token efforts now and then, but she wasn’t doing much of anything. I couldn’t help but think, What if I just quit my job because there were times it was not fun? What would we do financially? I thought it was very irresponsible, especially with all the time I had spent on this for her, but I kept my opinion to myself. At least we hadn’t lost much money.
Jess renewed her efforts with Wool Creations a year later. This time she wanted to start making custom wedding gowns and doing high-end alterations. Doing this from home didn’t appear professional, and suppliers would not sell wedding gowns to someone without a commercial storefront. So she subleased a space in Ann Arbor for a while. Her business didn’t do well—the space she’d leased was in an industrial complex, and no one went to that area for retail shopping. Jess then formed Formal Diva for designing and selling wedding gowns. In April 2003, she signed a mutual business agreement and sublease with Nellie’s Wedding Shop in Romulus, Michigan.
The agreement between Jess and Nellie was a very strange one. Jess would make and sell custom-made garments through Wool Creations at Nellie’s store, and Nellie would take a 12.5 percent commission on the Wool Creations garments. Nellie also was the sales representative for Formal Diva, and it was stipulated in the contract that Formal Diva was a “distributor, designer, and manufacturer of wedding gowns, formal and casual wear.” I’m not sure what the difference was between Wool Creations and Formal Diva, except that Wool Creations was disappearing, and all the work Jess was doing was under Formal Diva. Then, in August 2003, something happened between the two of them, and Jess and Nellie signed a letter that stated, “No further advertising will include any mention of custom gowns, Formal Diva, or Wool Creations.”
In September 2003, Nellie sent Jess a letter that terminated their shared-space agreement. Jess told me stories of how Nellie was being unreasonable and hard to work with. Once again Jess claimed that others caused the problem, not her.
This job situation with her didn’t bother me much. We were happy, had a joyful time together, and were deeply in love. I gave t
hanks countless times as I lay in bed and watched this beautiful woman sleep. She really did adore me and was an extremely passionate woman. I felt blessed by having her in my life.
That summer, Jess wanted to go up to Frankenmuth, Michigan, for one of their “world-famous chicken dinners.” We traveled up and went to eat at the Bavarian Inn. We both noticed that the World Expo of Beer, which offered more than a hundred different types of craft beer, was in Frankenmuth that weekend also.
Jess and I were sitting in the restaurant trying to decide what to eat. The menu didn’t impress me, and I thought of it as higher-priced KFC chicken. Looking at what other people had on their plates didn’t impress me either. The place was very crowded, loud, and cramped, and people kept bumping into us as they tried to get by. Knowing that Jess really wanted to be here, I kept my negative thoughts to myself. However, I kept thinking I’d rather be at the beer expo.
All of a sudden, after glancing over her menu, Jess looked at me and said, “Let’s get out of here and go to the beer expo.” I said she’d read my mind, and we got out of there. We headed to the beer expo and had a couple of grilled brats along with many samples of craft beer from different microbreweries. There was a live band playing too. Jess sat on my lap with a beer in one hand and a brat in the other as she bounced to the beat of the band, and I told her I loved her. She beamed with happiness. We had an awesome time.
A few weeks later, Jess began altering clothing for people at home. She came to me one day and said she wanted to open up her own bridal shop. I was very hesitant, given her history for not keeping projects going. I was very honest with her and expressed my concerns. She admitted she had failed in the other ventures, but what she had been doing was not her real passion. She had taken many courses in Thailand for fashion design, sewing, and patternmaking. She wanted to get back into that.
Tales of the Crazy Page 3
