The Suitcase Incident
As part of my PhD program I was being shipped off to Germany for a summer school. The duration of the school was two weeks. As such, the hiking backpack I usually used when traveling abroad for smaller stretches of time simply wouldn’t have done. I needed a suitcase. A big sexy suitcase. Thankfully, I’ve got a supportive and loving family whom help me with these trivial matters.
I text my mam (yes, we still text, getting her to use anything clearly more convenient simply won’t happen — why learn new skills when you have one that works, no matter how obsolete?) asking if I could borrow one of the many suitcases we keep in our attic.
I believe there are at least three big ones up there, and a scatter of other smaller ones — and many, many other things, my mam is a massive hoarder.
‘ye grand. mammy,’ the reply read.
My mam lives about a fourty-five minute drive away. I collected the bag, no issues were raised. And I brought it back two weeks later as per the agreement.
Now, while I was away, I was informed that the suitcase I had taken actually belonged to my mother’s partner. Not only that, but he had been ‘doing her head in’ about the fact I took it. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise he needed it,’ I text my mam in response to the news.
‘he didnt,’ she replied.**
If it isn’t obvious, I knew full well he didn’t need it, nor never used the suitcase.
I have to be careful with subtlety when it comes to my mam however, as it usually goes right over her head.
I could talk at length about my mother’s partner, but we can skirt him aside for this post and politely mention he’s a bit of grouch.
Now, here comes the fun: greeting me when I arrived home was a brand new suitcase, and, sitting delicately on top of it was a receipt to the tune of fifty euros. Oh no — Here we go.
Every single time I go home my mam, without fail, reminds me why I loathe being back there for any period of time. Simply put, it’s hard to live with the least rationally motivated woman — and extended family — in existence.
I could literally smell the shitstorm that was about to go down when I would tell my mam that I would have rather she asked me if I actually wanted a suitcase before purchasing it. That I was sorry, but I would not be taking it. My prescient abilities were correct, a shitstorm there was.
I text my mother in advance, ‘If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t ask, but is that new suitcase for me? I’m assuming by the receipt you’re also expecting me to pay for it.”
“yes. you need one. mammy”
“Sorry, but I don’t want this.”
“you need it.
“I don’t need it. Even if I did, you should have called and asked first before doing this. Sorry, but I’m not taking it.”
That last text got no reply.
If only I could remember the initial flurry of incomprehensible nonsense my mam spat out at me in anger as she walked into my aunt Barbara’s house later that day (after her two hour work day she begrudgingly helps my granddad, whom my aunt Barbara lives with, out of bed — it’s worth noting my mam gets state benefits for doing this).
I merely laughed it off. Upon laughing it off my aunt Barbara told me to stop being so childish. To be clear, my mother and her sisters will always be at odds with me. Nobody takes my side, with the exception being my sister on a rare occasion.
Now, I decided that despite how unproductive it would be, I would challenge my mother and my aunt on this. The discussion started with my mam reiterating her point from the text message. She simply stated that I needed a suitcase and therefore should take it.
To this I countered something along the lines of: the suitcase she had bought was too small, I already had a backpack to use in the cabin, if I were to get a bigger suitcase it would need to be much bigger than the one she purchased. But I don’t want one, because I can use one of the family ones instead of spending money on one.
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ my aunt remarked. She did this multiple times throughout the discussion. As well as, ‘Oh, stop being so childish’. She liked to say these meaningless one liners. I do ask her to either contribute constructively or please not call me stupid, but I get called stupid and childish for this. I think the irony of a person having the only contribution to a discussion being petty insults between bouts of sulking to be quite hilarious, or at least I would if it weren’t me who had to trudge through it.
My mam told me that she didn’t want me using the suitcases anymore. Her reasoning being, when I probed multiple times with simply ‘but why, mam?’, that she just didn’t. That I should stop being ‘so mean’. And just buy myself a suitcase. By ‘so mean’ my mam meant I was being cheap.
Let me just put my position out here, as I did to both my mother and my aunt. I feel like there’s a massive difference between being a cheap person and being a sensible person. I can’t see why one’s own mother and family would not oblige you the use of one of their many suitcases. I know I would to any of my friends or family. I always thought shared ownership of expensive items that don’t often get used was a benefit of having a family.
The conversation devolved into myself having to defend these principles. Being called ‘mean’ by the people who didn’t want to lend a suitcase on the grounds that they simply didn’t.
It’s worth noting of course that throughout this entire conversation I was trying to be jovial and calm — and I genuinely believe I was. On the other hand my mother and aunt had lapsed into some sort of playground school child mentality. They were visibly angry, throwing out fistfuls of insults, re-iterating points that had already been countered and seeking assurance from each other with smirks and other meaningless glances.
Again, I was constantly being told I needed to grow up and stop being so childish.
My aunt Barbara had many bursts of ingenious contributions besides the insults. At one point she had this expression on her face, it said I got him now.
‘And what if they (the suitcase owner) need to use it? Huh? What will you do then,’ the smirk was incredible.
‘Well, Barbara, should they need it themselves I will not be taking it from them. It’s that simple. I’ll either ask them for a lend of a different one, if they had one, or ask someone else entirely. I’d buy a suitcase of my own if it really seemed there were no other option, but in reality, I don’t see that as the issue.’
She sat dumbfounded for a solid four seconds. I laughed. ‘Oh grow up,’ was mumbled once or twice.
Throughout the entire conversation they rolled with a point that I wasn’t borrowing, I was taking. They were really sipping the semantics cool-aid. I actually had to explain to them how I was borrowing, by virtue of the fact that I had asked for the lend and would in future.
This line of thought was Barbara’s doing. My mam rolled with it, however. She went on to lie and say I didn’t ask for the suitcase in the first place. I got the text message out showing I did. They refused to read it.
This discussion went on for a solid ten minutes. I didn’t even get to bring up the point that one should probably ask a person if they want something before buying it, irrespective of whether they expect the person to pay them for it or not (unless it’s a needed small gift of some kind, and meant in good nature).
My aunt ended it all by picking up a newspaper and loudly reading some local news to my mam. They shifted topic and ignored my presence from then on. Then they proceeded to discuss amongst themselves how my mam would get to keep the ‘lovely suitcase’ herself. ‘Good for her,’ I thought, while shaking my head at this further display of playground mentality.
I left the room, but kept my ear out. Indeed, as soon as I left, a discussion about how I was wrong was played out.
Sigh.
Later that day my mam tried to approach me more calmly and try to show me how she, as a reasonable, rationally thinking and behaving adult believes I’m still wrong about this. It was the same points we had already discussed. I just shrugged and told her I wasn’t paying up. She was furious.
Hopefully some day I’ll be less childish and stupid to discuss and understand these things.
Dan x
** text messages are quoted directly from my phone
