This afternoon I sat at the BX food court pretending to be absorbed in an issue of People Magazine (no pretense at going there to write today—I totally craved an egg salad sandwich from Robin Hood Sandwiches), trying to mind my own business and not get annoyed about the screaming two year old who seemed intent on torturing every single person there.
I was doing a fairly good job at drowning out the sounds of the obviously too-tired toddler; what could be more enthralling than reading about Angelina Jolie’s deep and moving love for the new man in her life, 2 year old Maddox? It didn’t take long for me to find out; a couple roughly my age sat down right next to me (um, crap, there were like 20 free tables and they picked the one only 18 inches from me…) and began Bitching In Earnest.
Their complaint? One of them has an elderly mother who is, I gather, a widow. And this woman apparently only has a year or so left to live (and while curious, I never figured out what is about to cause her imminent demise.) Her egregious crime? She is spending her money.
Yes, her money.
Male Assmunch: She bought a car. A goddamned forty thousand dollar car.
Female Assmunch: She always wanted it.
MA: Yeah, but how long can she drive it? Maybe six months?
FA: I know, it’s a waste of money.
MA: And then there’s all those stupid things. She doesn’t need more clothes or stupid knick knacks. She keeps this up and there won’t be anything left.
FA: She has insurance…
MA: You know what I mean.
I knew what he meant. It pissed me off to no end, but I knew what he meant, and as they continued to talk, it became more clear: Mom was spending her money, and it pissed him off because he wanted an inheritance.
What a complete obnoxious prick.
No, make that Prick. With a capital P.
Do people really feel this way? They’re a year, maybe less, away from losing a parent and they’re worried that they won’t get an inheritance? Holy freaking shit. I can’t even blame “those young people” because they were both obviously close to my age.
Here’s my take. If you have an aging and/or dying parent, get a clue—don’t just get it, but absorb it. Swallow it whole. It’s not your money/house/car/whatever. You are not owed an inheritance. Your parents probably worked long and hard for whatever they have, and it’s theirs to do with as they please. Buy a car. Buy a house. Buy every freaking CD they can get their hands on. Buy a Play Station. A Game Cube. A screaming, kick ass computer and an assload of software to go with it. It is their money. All of it.
And if you’re one of those aging or dying parents—blow it. Spend it. Have as much fun as you can with whatever you can. You don’t owe your kids an inheritance. The only thing you owe your kids is what you’ve already bestowed on them throughout their lives: love, respect, and an example of what a Good Person should be.
Fortunately, I did learn restraint somewhere along the way… I really wanted to get up and bitch-slap the little weasels, or at the very least dump my Diet Coke all over their lunch, but I didn’t. I finished my sandwich, wiped off the table, and left.
I hope the old lady dies broke.