Sullivan Ben and I had to run a few errands this morning after we dropped Jackson off at school.
The typical MOM errands;
POST OFFICE: to mail the winning bidder her Lego base plate that I sold on Ebay.
Pharmacy: prescription pick ups. B.O.R.I.N.G
Dry Cleaners: BDD needs crispy shirts to wear to the office
Library: I hated to part with BREAKING DAWN, but it was time to return her.
Somewhere around those stops, I picked up a one sided conversation some 30 something woman was having on her cell phone. This 30 something woman was clearly having a conversation on fertility, eggs, and life, with the person on the other end. Except it wasn't her that had the fertility problem, nor was it the person on the other end of the call.
She was complaining about how broke she was, as she cupped her IPhone up to her ear, and that she was stressed because she didn't know if she was going to be able to make her car payment this month. The car payment on her brand new car purchased one month ago. I'm not judging her, but based on her physical attire she had her big lumpy Louis V, Alma Handbag clearly authentic, designer clothes, and every part of her looked like it was trimmed, plucked, highlighted, waxed, polished and exfoliated.
Yet she was complaining about not having enough money to take care of her "living expenses." She expressed disdain over the fact that one of their friends were going to Cabo San Lucas in a month and how mad she was that she couldn't go with them.
How have I come to the judgemental assumptions? Simple, the moment she opened up her mouth and pissed out verbal crap of to her fellow friend on the other end of her precious pearly I-Phone:
"It's not fair, I'm 32 years old, single, with a good job, and they won't let me donate my eggs. I guess it's because I'm too old. Had I been 30, then they would have accepted my application. I was so pissed when I found out this morning, that I called in sick to the office, it made me so sick to my stomach. I was counting on that $8000. Now how am I supposed to pay for my new car? And I just bought her last month. There's no way I'm calling my parents for it. Uh, it's just so unfair. I so deserve to be in Cabo with Tricia. I can get a credit card with an $8000 limit but I'm not qualified to donate my eggs?"
By that point I had to close out that conversation because they were calling my number-that's right, it was in the POST OFFICE!!- and Ben was trying to escape from my stroller-less grasp.
I mean, REALLY?
I'm just grateful the clinic didn't approve her.
If she's that strapped for money then she shouldn't be highlighting her hair, buying a new car, and calling in sick from work for that matter.
She has what I call, entitlement disorder. She feels owed and that everyone should just give her whatever she wants. She doesn't feel the need to have to work for it. It's more about extending herself beyond her means, and then bitching and moaning and blaming the egg clinic when she can't go to Cabo.
By now she should have an idea on living within her means, she's in her 30's for crying out loud.
Entitlement Disorder. You shouldn't have to work hard for anything, it should all just be giving to you, and when things don't go your way, you blame the person, never yourself. Not to mention you never learn. The habits continue to plague your ignorant glimpse on materials, vacation and life therefore allowing you to be the hostess to your own unhappiness.