The Ruth Fit

There's a word people use to describe me sometimes.  I know they mean it as a compliment, but depending on who says it, sometimes that word really insults me.  It's a word that people use when they really don't know someone, but want to say something nice about them.  And if it were true about me, I guess I wouldn't be that offended by it.  But when someone says this word about me, I know it's NOT true, and it just makes me mad that someone is saying stuff about me that's not true.  Even if it's a nice thing to say.

That word is "sweet." 

Shudder.

"Oh, Ruth, you're so sweet!"  "Ruth is such a sweet person!"  "Ruth?  Yeah, I know her.  She's sweet."  Sweet.  Sweet.  Sweet.

Blech.

Now, sometimes people who know me fairly well still use that word to describe me.  It doesn't make me mad when they say it, because somehow they still believe it about me, even though I know it's not really true.  I think it's because they're great people who can overlook all my orneriness.  

Because the people that know me best know a little secret.  It's a secret my parents referred to as: The Ruth Fit.  

I figure that the Ruth Fit is closely related to the Low Blood Sugar Monster, that sometimes rears its unsweet head when I haven't eaten enough and get crabby.  The Ruth Fit is like the Low Blood Sugar Monster, only more devious, more calculated, and more terrifying.  It doesn't happen often, but when it does, watch out.  The Ruth Fit is actually banned in seven different countries.

Or not, but I haven't visited all the countries yet, so I'm sure it's bound to be banned in a few of them.  

Yeah, so the Ruth Fit was something that originated upon my toddlerhood, when I ceased being an adorable and well-behaved infant and decided that I really was quite fed up with the fact that I couldn't have my way all the time.  I'd throw the greatest fits.  The greatest.  I'd kick my legs and scream and cry for the longest time about the simplest things.  My poor parents.  When kids at work throw fits at me today, I just laugh and say, "Honey, you have no idea who you're dealing with.  I'm a lot more stubborn than you are, and I've had loads more practice."

As I got older the Ruth Fit morphed from screaming and kicking and pouting into more grown-up pouting, not speaking to people, thinking everyone was out to get me, and writing moody poetry.  I was super popular in high school.

Well, now, as a grown up, I still have a lot of moods, but the Ruth Fit doesn't happen very often.  You'd think that would be a good thing.  But I've discovered what has happened is that since the Ruth Fit doesn't happen often anymore, when it DOES happen, it's pretty much one of the greatest forces on earth.

I will describe to you the most recent encounter that included a Ruth Fit.  It was justified, perhaps, and it got results.  But it scared people.  It even scared me.

Before I get into this story, let me first say that I work with customers at one of my jobs.  The vast majority of customers are amazing.  Then you have THAT customer.  I've dealt with THAT customer enough to know that I don't ever want to be THAT customer.  I am, for the most part, extremely patient in dealing with people, usually more apt to blame myself than someone else, and I also don't like confrontation.  So, while I was not blameless in the situation you're about to read, there was a LOT of ridiculous going on that led to the happening of the Ruth Fit.

So I was taking two of the girls I watch to one of those exercise facilities that also has a pool.  I don't want to use any names because I don't really have an issue with the facility, itself.  I don't even have a big issue with the staff.  I think some people were having off days and there was a lot of miscommunication on my part and theirs.  Too many people were trying to handle one situation, and that caused even more issues.  So I'm sure this place is a great place to go exercise and take your family.  But today was not one of the greatest moments in customer service for the staff.

The family of the girls I watch has a membership at this facility.  I should have asked the parents before embarking (they requested that I take the girls there) if I needed a guest pass.  I asked the 12 year old I watch if I needed one, and she said no.  I should have realized then that she probably really didn't know, but we were in a bit of a hurry (we had other errands before the pool).  So that's my fault, too.  But it should have been handled better.

We got to the pool and the 12 year old showed them the family ID card.  They waved us through.  We went and changed clothes in the bathrooms.  Then, as I was leaving the bathroom and walking near to where the entrance was, I almost bumped into a lady who was wearing nicer casual clothes, like she had just stepped out of CATO, with no official ids or anything.  I assumed she was just another mom or whatever.  I said, "Excuse me," for nearly bumping into her, and I walked on.  

The girls and I all got settled and started getting sunscreened up.  I made sure the girls were drenched in sunblock, and then I began the huge task of protecting myself from Mr. Golden Sun.  Now, keep in mind here that I am paler than Olaf from Frozen (the sun is just about as damaging to me, too) and I have to wear like the super greasy gross SPF 100 sunblock.  As I was lathering up my face, the lady I'd almost bumped into came over to us and sweetly said, "I noticed that you came into the pool after I did, and you didn't check in."

I said, "We checked in when we came in."

She said, "Well, you came in after me, and I noticed that you didn't check in."

I said, "We weren't checking in when we passed you.  We were coming from the bathrooms where we had changed because we already checked in."

She looked at me as if she didn't quite believe me, and then she left.  I sprayed on a second coat of the gross sunscreen.  Just to be sure.  Because being pale means you'd better be sure.

I was finishing a short argument with the 9 year old about why we had to wait for sunblock to soak in a little bit before just jumping in the water (it's not my rule, kid, it's the sunblock's rule--read the label), when the lady who had originally checked us in came up and said, "Excuse me, but I think you guys forgot to check in.  I'm going to need you to check in before you can swim."  I'm gonna call her Blondie, not because she was dumb, but because she was blonde.  I don't think she was dumb at all.  She was just trying to do her job, even though she had originally made a mistake (those happen to everyone, it's all good).  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I looked up, and hovering over Blondie's shoulder was the CATO woman who had spoken with us the first time.  This lady who was impersonating just another patron of the pool was apparently Blondie's boss in disguise.  And I realized that she was actually a higher up employee.  I'mma call her Pool Bouncer, because that's pretty much what she was acting like.

I explained to Blondie that she had been the one to check us in.  Blondie had no memory of that and gave the understandable explanation of, "I see a lot of people come and go.  I can't remember everyone."  I work with customers.  I get that.  I don't blame her.

But frilly blouse-wearing Pool Bouncer was starting to flex her muscles.  She wasn't just hovering over Blondie.  She was hovering over me.

I asked the 12 year old to show the ID again.  They took it with them and went to scan it.  Then they came back and said, "So you're the mom?"

"No," I said.  "I'm the nanny."

  

Apparently, I wasn't supposed to be there without a fancy guest pass.  As far as I knew, I thought I was covered.  And it was a mistake on my part, but an honest one.  But the way Pool Bouncer treated me at that point, you'd think I had robbed a bank.  "You have to PAY to swim here," she said.  "The pool isn't free.  You either need to get a permanent guest pass or have a one-time-use one."  I apologized for not knowing, but pointed out, "I should have been told that when I first entered the pool."  I wasn't trying to throw Blondie under the bus.  It was just the truth of the matter.  

"You have to pay $10," Bouncer said.

Then I shrugged and said,  "Okay I'll just pay the $10." 

I followed Blondie (with Pool Bouncer right on my heels, making sure I didn't bolt) back to the entrance.  I pulled out my debit card.  Bouncer rudely said, "Oh no.  If you want to use a credit card, you have to go inside."

Oh, the Ruth Fit was beginning...

Yeah, I was getting slightly frustrated at this point.  Again, I said, "Why wasn't I told this when I first got here?"  I wasn't too keen on going into the main facility in my swim suit.  

Blondie apologized again, using the somewhat valid "I can't remember everyone," excuse.  Pool Bouncer flexed her muscles.  I said, "Whatever.  I'll just go inside and pay.  Where do I go?"

Blondie pointed in a random direction of some sort.  It was less than helpful.  

I rolled my eyes and said, "You guys do realize I've never been here before, right?"

Pool Bouncer said, "I'll take you."

"Thanks," I said, but not in any way that expressed gratitude.  I told the girls to stay put (and I'm really thankful they're older now, because if this had happened when they were little, I'd have to drag them along).  

Well, Bouncer took me to a very nice reception desk where a very nice lady was standing.  Pool Bouncer started to talk for me, but I had really had enough of her hovering.  I should have been nicer, and maybe things would have gotten resolved sooner, but I resented the fact that she seemed to think I was some sort of criminal. The Ruth Fit was accelerating.  "I've got it.  Thanks," I snapped, dismissing her.

Pool Bouncer's muscles deflated like air being let out of tires.  She backed away slowly, as though I were a grizzly bear.  I took a breath and, as calmly as possible, explained to the very nice lady at the counter that I wanted to pay to use the pool.  Communication broke down a bit then, because she started asking me about my name and address and phone number and next of kin and firstborn child and best friend in kindergarten, and I was like, "Wait, what?"

She said, "I need to register you so I can get payment from you."

Now, in retrospect, after really thinking it over like an occasionally sweet and rational person, and not someone deep in the throes of an escalating Ruth Fit, I think what she wanted to do was to add me to the family's account so that I would be a permanent guest.  All I would have to do in the future would be to enter the pool and pay.  I didn't quite understand that I needed to be on someone's account before I could use the facility, and I thought she was trying to sell me a membership.  ...but I didn't understand it because it wasn't really explained to me.  It wasn't Very Nice Lady's fault.  It was just too many people trying to help me fix a simple situation.  But I didn't get what was going on, and I was just done with the ridiculousness.  I didn't want to give them all my personal info.  I didn't want to register with them.  I wanted to pay to use their stupid pool and get on with my life.

The Ruth Fit me said, "Are. You. Kidding. Me?"

Very Nice Lady put down her ink pen slowly.  "Let me go get a supervisor."

Ruth Fit me said, "Yeah, you go do that."

I was vaguely aware of innocent bystanders gawking at me at that point as I made my scene.  I was this greasy drippy extremely pale lady in a swimsuit, and I was not happy.  In fact, I probably looked like I was ready to kill someone.  But the adrenaline was kicking in, and suddenly I didn't feel guilty anymore that I had left their nice expensive-looking counter coated in SPF 100.  Normally something like that would cause me to have a guilt trip for weeks.

Supervisor came out.  Good ol' Soups!  She'd fix everything.

Only...no.

I explained to her my situation, which, if you can tell from all that I wrote above, really was quite cray-cray.  I explained that I don't like being mean to people, and that I deal with customers all the time, too, and rarely get like this.  But I also explained that I was just really tired of being given the run around over something as simple as trying to take kids to the pool.

Did she utilize her supervisor status to get to the bottom of what was going on.  Did she try to figure out where the miscommunication was?  Did she even talk to ANY of the people that I had previously talked to in order to see why I was so frustrated?  No.

She simply smiled sweetly, and said:

"Maybe you could be a little bit nicer."

"Maybe you could be a little bit nicer."

"Maybe you could be a little bit nicer."

"Maybe you could be a little bit nicer."

"...little bit nicer...."

Say what?!

ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!

That's when the Ruth Fit reached full meltdown mode.

I think the face I gave her in response looked a little something like this:

I tried to go to the pool once.  It was awful.

So she said, "You know, you could always just leave, too."

Oh, I work with customers.  I know it's perfectly fine to THINK that, but it's NOT okay to say that unless you've got a repeat offender who has been a constant pain (or otherwise someone who just crosses the line with completely inappropriate behavior--I was not there yet).  But maybe the Ruth Fit was scarier than I realized.

So I said, "Yeah, I'm really thinking that leaving sounds like a GREAT idea."  And then I think I gave her THIS face.

Because I AM the human version of Grumpy Cat

That's when she actually took a step backwards, changed her tone completely, and said, "How about I just give you a guest pass today, free of charge?"  She looked uncertain for a moment, and added a respectful, fearful, "Ma'am."

I raised an angry eyebrow and said, "I guess that will work, too."

She didn't make eye contact with me as she filled it out and meekly told me I needed to put an emergency contact on it.  I took the guest pass back to Blondie, saying, "Do I need to leave this with you while I go look up a phone number for the emergency contact?

Blondie didn't make eye contact with me as she said, "No!  No.  We...we trust you."

Darn right you do.

Pool Bouncer sat at a desk behind Blondie's counter, still looking utterly deflated and defeated.  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, then looked away quickly when she realized I saw her peeking.

Because that's what full-blown grown-up Ruth Fits do to people.

After all of that, while lounging in the pool, the 12 year old asked me, "So, did you have to pay the $10?"

I said, "Well, I tried to, but they gave me a hard time about that.  Then I accidentally threw a Ruth Fit, and they gave me a free pass for today."

She said, "Wow, you should do that all the time and get free stuff."

"No," I said.  "No.  Because first, I have vowed only to use my powers for good.  And second, the Ruth Fit is very powerful and should only be used with great responsibility, and in time of great need.  The Ruth Fit is more effective when it is only used sparingly, when the time is right."

The 12 year old nodded, impressed by my wisdom.  Either that or she just wanted me to stop talking.

And maybe that encounter was a time of great need, and maybe it wasn't.  But I do believe that the people at that facility will think twice before they go around willy-nilly accusing people of sneaking into the pool again.

Remember, don't make me angry.  You won't like me when I'm angry.  Unless you're watching from afar, because I bet that stuff was hilarious.