And Here's the Rub..

Warning: This is a rant containing mild explicatives, death threats, and voodoo spells.

A preface: While I am a teacher, I am spending my summer vacation working as a personal assistant, sales representative, and eye candy to the technicians at my parents. It is a true family endeavor. My father is the owner; my mother is accounts payable, and my 78-year-old grandmother pretends to be the receptionist, even though she can hardly hear anymore.

Walked back in from lunch today with my mother to find a copy of today's paper on my desk with an advertisement for a $500 a month apartment not-so-inconspicuously circled in red.

My grandmother sat at “her” desk, looking self-important, though she spends most of the day answering email and reading articles on holistic health care. She is one of those women who will get a forwarded email from a doctor, and believe whatever is in the email, simply because the person claims to be a real life MD. She opens the office at 8:30, leaves for coffee at 9:30, eats lunch at 11:30, and starts yawning at 1:30 that she is bored and she wants to go home. Her job: acting like a guard dog to anyone that might walk through the door. The copy shop next to ours just closed and she’s been complaining about how all the customers will come in and “bother” her.

“What’s this?” I ask. My parents and I have recently decided that I am giving up my apartment in order to move into their finished basement while I a.) save money and b.) complete my Master’s. It’s not a move I am particularly happy to make, but I am willing to swallow my pride to feel a little more financially secure. Note: it was my parents idea, and it took a long time for me to be okay with giving up my freedom.

“I was talking to your father, and I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move in with them again,” she said, taking a deep breath as she stepped on her soap box. My mother came in from the other room.

“Why not?” She asked. Mom has little patience for her mother-in-law’s manipulation. To get a visual, think of the relationship between Debra and Marie in Everybody Loves Raymond.

“Well, Denise, she’s been on her own and she can’t just go home. Plus, think of all the extra work it’s going to be. And you have Tracey [my younger sister who is 20] to think about—you have your hands full with her. Your house is too small. And children need to grow up eventually.” I started laughing. My father and uncle lived with her till they both got married. My father was in his middle-2os, my uncle was in his 30s. My mother cut her off.

“We managed quite well for twenty years. She is coming home so she can go to grad school. Tracey is quite fine with it.”

“Well, you and Roger will need to sit down and really think about it. I think you’re making the wrong decision,” she said with a cynical laugh. I knew the ways of her manipulation quite well. She would say something like that, and as we ignored her and did what we thought was best, she would sit back, her arms crossed, pouting like a child denied the chance to lick the cookie dough batter from the spoon.

I lost it. After spending nearly every working day with her and her condescending attitude, I just can’t take it anymore. I started yelling asking her to stay out of our lives. I’m very sick of having to do things to please her, of not doing things to please her, and of having to listen to her trash talk everyone from my mother, my sister, and other family members. And somehow after I do all that, she is still not happy. And I stormed out of the office—not the most adult thing to do, but she treats me like I’m 5, so I’m going to act like I’m 5. My father followed me outside, trying to reason with me on why he now thinks it’s a bad idea for me to move in. I told him to grow a back bone. He answered, as usual, that we need to listen to her because she’s almost 80. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. Being in your late-70s does NOT give you the right to treat others like crap, especially those in your own family.

Here’s the rub: Last week, when I told my grandfather, her husband, that I was moving back in with my parents, he was delighted. I have no freaking clue why she is suddenly on the defense about me moving back in with them.

So, dear Reader, share your stories/rants of a manipulative relative? How do you handle them?