People talk. It’s sometimes called communication. Other times it’s called Gossip or Rumour Mongering (which I prefer, it sounds like a job for which one can get paid – like Fish Monger).
I read an article the other day saying Gossip Might Be Good For You – I agreed with the post. Then I read the comments and understood the article better and the comments less so. Everyone is on about how ‘Gossip is Poison’. I don’t believe that’s what the writer had in mind – in fact they had made it quite clear that it’s a good thing if someone gives you a ‘heads up’ on another person – if they’re dodgy or scaly etc. I think the problem comes in when the observations aren’t based in fact. It’s no secret, I’m not a fan of ‘facts’ – scientific or not – they often get in the way of a good story, just ask Steven King.
I’ve been a unfair mongerer of rumours over the years – costing me a lot in ‘friends’ who didn’t bother to clear up a situation that might have arisen due to my irreverence of ‘facts’ . I’m not discrete, I should wear a disclaimer badge: ‘The opinions expressed by this individual might not be the views it will hold for the rest of it’s life and tends to make things up as it goes along.‘
Adele, has a song that strikes many chords with me, Rumour Has It – just ‘coz’ I said it, don’t mean that I meant it, just ‘coz’ you heard it don’t mean that I said it.’ And therein lies the rub – we’re such subjective emotional little creatures, often the cause of a rumour is miscommunication – kind of like the article about Gossip, that wasn’t really about Gossip but actually about passing along important information that might prevent someone from falling into the same trap that one might have previously fallen into. The comments section was testimony to it – I feel the commentors were people who were a little oversensitive and quite possibly recent victims of true gossip themselves. That in turn brings me to my meme:
As I might have mentioned before, we’ve just relocated. From a town that got used to me over 18 years. A place that I called home since I first started to commute to it. A University town with transient life forms. In this town I had already run the gauntlet of the rumour mill. Perpetuating some of my own, sometimes just for fun (despicable me) and sometimes out of spite (petty human me) and sometimes the stories would be about me – not always good but hey, no publicity is bad publicity.
So here we are in this little hamlet (that might have almost 6 000 souls in it – give or take) – it’s been 9 months now, thank goodness I didn’t arrive fat and lose weight and not have a baby – the fiction would have been scientific if people were to maliciously talk amongst themselves. No, the gossip revolved around my professionalism (which is thankfully almost non-existent), my personality (which bears some attacking since it’s larger than life) and on my parenting (not the first time round and it always stings).
I heard these rumours from a reliable source, who in turn would swear to the validity of their source and that person heard it from the horses mouth – so to speak. This fellow professional, until recently, was also renting the studio space that I approached to house my little Moms and Toddlers group along with my own clients that I’d slowly gathered along the way through word of mouth, being loathe to advertise since I’d be too busy to continue with my core business (Parenting) . I love my job – I really do, it’s not important what it is and how much money I make (all though that is a lovely side effect) – I believe and have been told too many times to count that I’m also really good at it. I get positive results and positive feedback.
This poor woman apparently felt so threatened by me sharing her space that she saw fit to up and leave – without any word of warning, quite the contrary in fact, she told me that she’d only be gone for 3 weeks and then she’d be back in the saddle. So I offered to see her clients (the ones that would require care over the Season – and I was working anyway – no skin lost) while she was gone, paying her rent and of course giving her the money that she would have made, taking R10 to cover the wear and tear on my bicycle since I try to bike it to work, easier during the Season since there are no kids to drop off at their education centers. She, allegedly has accused me of wanting her to pay me to teach her clients. What a mean hearted and shitty thing to do – you might say or as one of my favoured clients now calls me, ‘You Dreadful Woman’ – yes, how could I?
Ag anyway – it’s not good. She only taught in the afternoons, I only teach in the mornings – our relationship would have been symbiotic. We could have taught all 4 000 people (the rest are kids who should be in school ALL day) because we could have had a studio which operated almost 12 hours a day. But No. Some people are like dogs that have been kicked one too many times and they can’t see the tummy rub for the boot. Which brings me to her next little gem of crap – ‘I only work to get away from my kid’s. It’s true (maybe it’s because she’s been overheard as passing it off as ‘fact’ and not as witty repartee that it stings), – otherwise I’d have to clone myself and split my heart and my brain to sit with a Grade One in a tiny little desk (I hope they could clone me into a size 2) and the other clone would have to go and hang out in the Caterpillar Class and learn ‘Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes” all over again. Yes. I work to get away from my kids. I might have said it – sarcastically – I know it’s the lowest form of wit but at least it is a bloody form of wit.
Lastly, my source informs me that her source said that this woman said that I told her that ‘she was doing it wrong’ – yeah because I like to break people down like that. Apparently this was said the first time I met her. Ah, to have a recording of all my conversations so that I might defend myself in court one day. Who does that? “Hi, I’m Melanie, you’re doing it wrong.” Actually I think I might do that from now on and if you survive my First Impression Of Fire you can come back for a second interview and maybe I’ll include you in my clique; which I established last week Thursday – if I don’t give you the nod to come and stand under the tree with me at the school gate tomorrow – then you’ll know – it’s over.
*The opinions expressed in the above post are not necessarily those of the person who wrote it. Facts might have been changed to make it more interesting and no animals were injured in the blogging of this rubbish.