Pay Phone

The other day I was kicking back drinking some herbal tea, preparing for a day of job hunting, when my phone began to ring. It was my dad.

‘Yazmin.’

He was using my unabbreviated first name. Something was up.

‘….Dad? What’s wrong? Is it grandma-’

‘No.’ he interjected. ‘Worse. I have your phone bill here’

Oh shit.

It turns out my father had stumbled over my phone bill. When I say stumbled. I mean received and opened.

Now, at this point I will have to confess something that’s pretty embarrassing so I’m just going to say it very quickly… MYDADPAYSMYPHONEBILL. There. The cat’s out of the bag. I feel pretty terrible about it but what can I do? There is a recession going on. I’m trying to earn a living from writing for goodness sake!!!! Do you know how insanely hard that is??? I can’t even afford quilted toilet paper, instead I have to settle for scritchy-scratchy home brand stuff. It’s all quite tragic really.

Back to the phone convo…

My father continued. ‘It’s quite a lot.’

I knew by his tone that by quite he meant GARGANTUAN. I felt a tight knot in my stomach. His calmness unnerving.

I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation, but I will tell you that those long distance international calls I had been making to my mother while she had been overseas the past few months had wracked up a hefty sum that cost more then my current monthly rent. And all because I had failed to get an international tariff or purchase a phone card.

I held the phone some distance from my ear waiting for a massive thunderstorm of retribution to rain down on me. I was expecting my dad to tell me I should take responsibility for my actions, get off my ass and find a real job, that I was spoilt, selfish, immature and negligent… I was waiting. The abuse never came.

‘Just get it sorted.’ He said.

I managed a feeble apology before he put the phone down.

I sat in my windowless room (yes I still live in a windowless room), forlorn and solitary, feeling completely overwhelmed with guilt for what I had done. That was when the Yazmin Joy monsoon began to pour. I think I cried for a good hour. Ever cried so much your face aches? Yup, that was me. I cried so much my face began to puff like a pastry. Afterwards, I lay down in my bed contemplating my actions, cucumber slices resting on my eyelids, an attempt to succumb the swelling. I was supposed to be job hunting but how could I possibly leave the house now? I looked like Joan bloody Rivers. What are my options? I could look into Flucamp? I could do a Jo March and sell my hair?

Ohhh gawd… why didn’t I just sort out the tariff before? If I dug deep deep deeep down into my heart I knew why. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, although it had been at the back of my mind, getting a phone card wasn’t a priority because my phone bill didn’t directly effect me. It then struck me: I often take my parents money for granted.

At this point, I kinda wish I had received some verbal abuse. I would have felt more like a victim and less like a perpetrator if my father had threatened to disown me or run me down or teach me a lesson. In fact it would have made me feel better. Instead he very calmly told me to just get a low rate sorted. The guy didn’t even ask me to pay him back. Whyyy? The guilt was unbearable.

So I learnt three things during this unfortunate incident.

The first was about money. Sometimes when money isn’t ours we take it for granted. And there comes a point when you can’t let other people pay for your mistakes.

The second, was that I suddenly became acutely conscious of the first point. Which can only suggest I am evolving into a… responsible adult??? I SHALL take responsibility for my actions damnit! Why? Because it’s the right thing to do and it’s the only way I can medicate this excruciatingly painful aching GUILT that is rattling around in my gut, like a hamster in a wheel.

The third thing I learnt was about my father….

‘Look Yaz,’ he said matter-of-factly when I had mustered the courage to phone him back. ‘You fucked up -’

Oh gawd. I knew it was true, but that hurt.

‘…but don’t worry about it. As long as you’ve sorted it now that’s all that matters. Everything will be alright.’

Sayyyy whaat?

And that’s when I realised, the reason why he didn’t make me feel terrible for wasting his money (despite the fact it probably couldn’t of come at a worse time) was purely down to the fact that, unlike me, his priority was not money at all. His priority was me.

You see, no matter how old you are, your parents will always be your parents. They are some of the few people you will encounter who will actually let you waste their money on the condition that you learn. I guess that’s what you call unconditional love. As for me, I have vouched never to make international phone calls on my mobile without the correct tariff again.

‘Dad, I want you to know, I will pay you back.’ I promised.

‘Okay,’ he replied. ‘That would be good.’

‘- not now. Obviously.’ I quickly interjected, ‘because I don’t have any money… But eventually I will pay you back.’

He laughed. ‘Okay, deal.’

‘Look, this is why we never had to smack you as a kid… you beat yourself up so much about stuff, we never had to’. 

I guess he knew me better than I thought.

I’ll leave you with Maroon 5. Just because…

(I don’t know what everyone’s complaining about. The rap bit is my favourite part of this chuuunnee)

Have a great week peeps.

x

Tags: confession forgiveness life lessons love parenthood phone bills

Categories: Cringe Factor Mirror Mirror: Self Improvement