Bio - 11 in My Bio

A couple of months after I got home and was about 19, I got a job at a concession stand in a movie theater at the mall. It was a total bore, and a very difficult job for me because I was never good with numbers. I had to do all the adding and subtracting in my head since we only had a money drawer—no cash register to tell us how much change to give customers. They laid me off after Christmas, but I think they were really firing me for not being able to count, and the boss lady was just being nice by saying “laid off.”

Next, I worked at McDonald’s, another boring job. However, there was a deaf girl working there, and I enjoyed signing with her.

By March of 1985, it was time to quit McDonald’s and return to a place where I had worked for a few months when I was sixteen before becoming a ward of the state. That was a hotel in Enfield, Connecticut, just over the state line and only minutes from the house. I worked there as a housekeeper. What I liked about the job was that I could work alone. I didn’t have to mingle with others except during breaks and lunch. We ate well at lunchtime too, because the food came from the hotel’s restaurant, and we could have as much as we wanted for free.

The housekeeping department had both a boss and a supervisor. The supervisor was usually the one who checked our rooms after we finished cleaning them. During my time there, I went through three sets of bosses and supervisors. The first boss was a guy whose name I can’t remember. The supervisor was a 60-year-old Canadian woman named Teresa, whom I remembered from when I had worked there a few years earlier. She died of cancer a few years later.

The second boss and supervisor were younger—Linda and Alison. Alison was just there, but Linda and I bonded. Not romantically, but we got along really well, and it was obvious that I was her favorite. In the end, I felt very led on and let down by her. After she quit to work at a hotel in Springfield, she promised to visit me at the apartment I had just moved into but never did. When I’d call her, she acted like I was an annoyance.

Tired of being lied to and led on by people, I lashed out in frustration, calling and hanging up late at night, despite knowing that her husband was a homicide detective. I know it was gross, mean, stupid, and immature but I – uh – well, I also mailed guinea pig droppings to her and ended up in court for these pranks, but nothing ever came of it.

The last pair to run the housekeeping department while I was there were Sandra and Norah and I had a crush on Norah from the get-go. She was from England and I loved her accent. She was probably about 30 and had dark eyes and shoulder-length dark hair. She was a bit short for my taste, but that didn’t matter much since she didn’t seem to like me anyway. She was very strict, and most people didn’t seem to like her at all. So why she claimed she’d see me outside of work was beyond me, and of course, we never did get together.

The two co-workers who stand out most in my memory are definitely Michelle and Paula. In fact, I later became friends with Paula. Eighteen-year-old Italian-Portuguese Paula was a little terror who wasn’t very bright and wasn’t there long before she was fired. Everyone was afraid of her, including me. I’d never have believed it back then if someone had told me we’d one day be friends for years despite our differences. Her twin brother, Paul, also worked there. He was pretty tame compared to his sister. Paula bullied almost everyone there, but for some reason, she never bothered me.

Before moving out on my own, my parents had enrolled me in a driving course. It took two tries to get my license. I never liked driving—it always made me uncomfortable. Knowing it was unlikely I’d ever conquer my phobia or afford a car anyway, I resorted to walking and taking buses.

I also took some sign language courses at the local college and at the Willie Ross School for the Deaf, thinking I might get a job involving signing. My mother got me a volunteer job through a friend that I absolutely hated. It was at a summer camp for mentally and physically challenged kids. The kids were totally wild and out of control. There was no reasoning with them or taming them, and I quickly realized I wasn’t cut out for that kind of work.

I had hoped that happiness and success would finally be mine now that I was on my own, but instead, for many years to come, loneliness and stupid mistakes would be my closest companions.

I moved out on my own the day before my 20th birthday in 1985, into a one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of a four-story brick building in Springfield. My mom furnished it with my grandparents’ old furniture. The building was owned by two brothers.

One of my biggest faults was being too nice, too trusting, and naïve. So when eighteen-year-old Michelle came to me one day at the hotel, begging me to take her in to escape her father, who she claimed was molesting her, I did, though she had to sleep on the couch. I thought I was helping her, but in fact, I was being used. She probably really was molested, but she seemed to think that gave her an excuse not to be fair when it came to chores and money.

Worse, she came between me and my brother. Michelle stayed with me for a couple of months. As soon as she met Larry, who was quite a womanizer, things changed. As the two of them became more involved, they started turning against me, invading my space and privacy.

One night, we all got high together before I finally kicked them both out of my life. It was the last time I ever touched a joint. It was a scary experience—my heart pounded like never before. I don’t know what was in that pot, but I really thought I was going to die of a heart attack that night!

There was a guy named Lloyd that I met somewhere, though I can’t remember where. Being too nice and unable to say no, I ended up in bed with him one night. We didn’t have sex, but he went down on me, and it was the first time someone made me orgasm. While that was all well and good, I regretted that it wasn’t with someone I was attracted to.

By this time, my brother hadn’t had any contact with our folks for a year or two, and I guess it was hard for him to be connected to anyone still in touch with them. That much I could understand, but I was tired of being used and trampled on by him and his little mistress.

I finally demanded that they both get the hell out. Larry looked at me, smiled, and said, “Make me.”

I tried just that by calling the cops, but they weren’t much help. They actually had the nerve to tell me they couldn’t make him leave simply because he was “family.”

“Oh, so that makes him God?” I said to the cops. “That makes it okay for him to be an unwanted guest in my own apartment? Would it also be okay if he killed me just because he’s my brother?”

“Just say the word,” Larry said to me one night, “and I’ll take Michelle to live with me, Sandy, and the kids.”

So after I took back the clothes that were mine while she was at his place one night, they came to pick up her stuff the next day.

Next came my biggest fight with Larry. All I can say is that the man is very lucky I didn’t handle things then the way I would now because I’d have attacked him viciously without caring if he kicked my ass in return.

He and Michelle were on their way over, and for some reason, my dad wanted to be present. Michelle had it in her mind that I owed her $17 for some reason. We argued over this and who knows what else. I don’t remember what Larry said to Dad, but I know he was close to attacking him. I was threatened too, and my response was, “You want to hit me? Do it. Don’t just sit around and threaten me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, and like a coward, I just stood there and said nothing. I totally regret this. While it may seem immature and silly, I sometimes wish he were here just long enough to threaten me so I could give him the surprise of his life. And I would, without the slightest hesitation! I’m much stronger and in much better shape now than I was back then. You could also say I’m more determined and even angrier in some ways.

Nonetheless, Dad finally said to Michelle pulling out his wallet, “You want $17? Here. Here’s $17.”

After they left, my father had me write him a check for $17, something I also regret. Dad took the easy way out, and I didn’t make or ask him to pay her.

For years, I seethed with rage whenever I remembered that night. I was furious with myself for not handling Larry differently for threatening me. Some people seemed to think they could do that whenever they felt like it simply because I was small—by this time, my weight was down to nearly 100 pounds.

I was also pissed at my father for telling me it would’ve been my fault if Larry had gone after him as if I would have been responsible for someone else’s actions.

I was furious with Michelle for her part in things but I was so incredibly furious with Larry for threatening me that I filed charges in court, which I later dropped. Larry kissed up to me until the charges were dropped, being oh-so-kind and sweet, but as soon as the charges were dropped, so was I. It would be the last I’d see of him for eight years. It was for the best, though, and I didn’t miss him either.

After sixteen months and nearly a forty-pound weight loss, I left the hotel. My past was beginning to take its toll on me, and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. It was getting harder and harder to pull myself out of bed in the mornings. Seeing Michelle at work every day didn’t help either.

I tried cleaning houses but couldn’t even handle that. I was having anxiety attacks, and it was getting harder to keep a schedule.

Soon, I was placed on Disability. I received two checks a month between Social Security and SSI checks. It wasn’t much, but it gave me some independence.

My memories of my neighbors there aren’t very good. The old lady above me was completely out of her mind. One night, when my phone wouldn’t work after I threw it against the wall in a fit of rage, I asked to use hers. After I used her phone, she got all pissed off and hysterical over nothing I could make sense of, so I left in a hurry, knowing I couldn’t count on her for help anymore.

The woman next to me had a jerk for a boyfriend. I’m very different now than I was back then. The things that scared me then would piss me off now. So when some guy was knocking on my window in the middle of the night, I panicked and went screaming hysterically next door. The neighborly help I received was her telling her boyfriend that I was crazy, and then him telling me he’d kick the little stray black dog I had taken in at the time if it didn’t quit sniffing at his feet. If I had been anything like I am today, I’d have kicked him!

Around this time, I realized I had to stop taking this kind of shit. If I just stood there and did nothing about the various threats I received, I’d only be sending the wrong message—one that said, “Go ahead, bully and threaten me because I won’t do a damn thing about it.” So from that day on, I was determined to stand up to these kinds of assholes because I was getting awfully tired of being pushed around. I felt I could really snap at any moment.

Anyway, I called the police about the window knocker, but he was long gone by the time they arrived, so there wasn’t much they could do other than offer to take me to a shelter. But I didn’t want to be run out of my own apartment. Jenny and her boyfriend stayed with me one night, but I knew they couldn’t stay with me every night and that I had to deal with it on my own. Besides, Jenny, being the wonderful “friend” that she was, didn’t want to “babysit” me anymore. Even June, Lori, and Lisa couldn’t have cared less when I tried reaching out to them.

Although I couldn’t prove it, I always suspected Larry and Michelle were behind the late-night window-knocking. Either way, I’d have reacted very differently as I got older. A few years later and I would have been pissed and gone out and confronted the asshole.