Now, I have a very dear friend. Let’s call her ‘Rose’.
Rose is generous, caring and one of those people who is always smiling, and even though we are very different in many ways, we get along famously. However, Rose is a compulsive shopper, gambler, and eater. These are her comfort zones, which I understand, however she is also as poor as a church mouse, and continually struggling from pension day to pension day.
Yesterday, I took Boris out for my daily airing and called in to see Rose. Two hours later, after cleaning out her pantry (for which she showed very little appreciation), I went home in disgust. I did it for her to help her stop spending money on items she didn’t need. She had enough dog treats to feed the entire population of the RSPCA; enough tea and tea bags to make a cuppa for the entire Australian defence force; paper towels, paper plates, and serviettes to have a party for the entire neighbourhood; and stuff that had been in there since 2010!
I’ve helped Rose out with a number of things in the past, such as tidying up her linen closet, her verandah, and her bedroom. I arranged a very good price for the replacement of her tyres – I was a customer service manager for a Bridgestone tyre and mechanical franchise and the owner is my BFF. All done with the intention of helping her to curb her spending on unnecessary things.
But yesterday’s efforts were the straw that broke the camel’s back for me.
Rose isn’t the tidiest person. I am, so my organisational skills and neat and tidy persona compliment her lack of the same. But then to add insult to injury, she spent the entire afternoon down at the pokies (it was pension day), bought herself dinner and then, I’m assuming, went home. Next week though, she will be scraping the bottom of the barrel again and looking for a loan.
Well, she won’t be getting it from me!
It’s been a valuable lesson. Some people can’t, or don’t want to be, helped. And, perhaps, I should just mind my own business and not even try.