Have any of you ever had the 'pleasure' of working with someone who is convinced that you're doing your job incorrectly - even before you've actually done anything. For example: you need to paint a window frame and there's this one guy trying to 'teach' you by demonstrating all the things you shouldn't do.
'Now, when you start, make sure the brush isn't dry. And hold it like this, facing down. Not like this but like this. And don't just start from the middle, you need to start from the corner.'
'I wasn't going to-'
'And you need to make sure to hold it like this. And remember to wash it after...'
It's like the person trying to teach you is convinced you're a complete moron that's gonna start painting the frame by smacking it with a dry brush and then pouring acid over it. By the way, this isn't a random example - this was a real conversation that took place over a year ago.
The first few days were actually pretty okay. I had to do some vacuuming, clean a leather couch and do some other easier household chores. The people I was totally not working for seemed pretty nice and even made me lunch every day. Sure, I only had two options - chicken salad or chicken sandwich (every single day) - but hey, it was still nice of them to offer. However, even on the first day I noticed that the guy I was totally not working for had a habit of over-explaining things.
'Now, when you clean this couch, you want to make sure to get all the edges like this and be careful not to put too much oil on the rag and don't just pour the oil on the couch - you need to put it on the rag first and then work it in...'
'Yeah, I wasn't going to-'
'And make sure to wipe the surface clean first. You can't put oil on it if it has dust or anything else on it.'
'Yeah, I know. I was going to clean it-'
'And just make sure to...'
So yeah, before I could start doing anything I had to listen to fifteen minutes of him going on and on about how I shouldn't do things. It was like he was convinced I'd suffered serious brain damage and had no idea how to do the most arbitrary things like cleaning a couch.
It got worse, however, because when it came to painting, he must have had some really bad experiences with mentally challenged painters. He kept explaining things that didn't need explaining - at least to most people. Like 'make sure to wash the brush after you're done' or 'just tip the edge of the brush into the paint, don't submerge it completely'. Who the hell would shove a paintbrush completely into the bucket? Well, apparently he was convinced that I would.
'And make sure to hold it like this, tip facing down, because if you hold it the other way the paint will start to drip.'
...Yeah, I know how gravity works. But thank you for the reminder.
'And make sure to get all the edges like this. And then spread the paint out. You don't want any lines here - you want to make it look as natural as possible. And make sure to brush like this... well, maybe not like this but you should avoid this from happening...'
At the same time he was trying to show me how to do things 'the right way' while actually failing to do it the way he was describing it. Not to mention that every time I would finish a job he would be convinced that I didn't do it right so he would come and inspect it, all the while talking about all the different ways I could've screwed things up. One time he came to inspect my paint job and was convinced I'd taken too long and the paint had already dried.
'See, now the paint is dry and there are still lines here. You should have put another layer of paint on top so it would have evened out.' He then proceeded to put his finger on the freshly painted surface to prove his point. Problem was: I had just painted it and it hadn't had the opportunity to even out... He left his fingerprints all over the surface, leaving me to repaint it... again... This went on for days. I had a feeling he just wanted to prove to me that I was doing everything wrong. And the weird thing: he wasn't a bad guy. He just really wanted to show me how capable and smart he was. He wanted to teach but didn't take into consideration that I wasn't a complete moron. Sure, I didn't have much experience painting window frames but even an idiot could tell that it's a bad idea to leave a wet brush lying on the ground or paint over a dusty surface.
It was even worse when I had to assemble a shelf. I was almost done with it and it looked pretty good when the guy showed up and was convinced I hadn't done it properly. He proceeded to disassemble it, read the instructions to me out loud and put it back together only to discover that I, in fact, had not made a mistake and everything was in order. Did I ever receive a 'sorry' after any of those episodes? Nope! None whatsoever. He would just quietly slink into the shadows and that was it... until the next time he wanted to tell me how I was doing everything wrong.
Long story short: after a month of helping these people out, I was ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. It was way too much: the work was hard, the guy kept rearranging his garage every few days so I had to lift a bunch of boxes from one shelf to another and the next day back again. He also had a hard time throwing stuff away. He had several kilos of screws. Just screws. God knows why he needed all of them but he made me pick up every single one of them from the garage floor because 'These might be useful later'. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
I was supposed to help them for a whole month... but I quit earlier because I just couldn't handle it anymore and I really wanted to enjoy the last week of my vacation. I sent them a letter saying that something urgent had come up and I couldn't help them out anymore. I never received a reply... Oh well, at least it was fun for a while... And I know all about sandpaper now.
'Now, when you clean this couch, you want to make sure to get all the edges like this and be careful not to put too much oil on the rag and don't just pour the oil on the couch - you need to put it on the rag first and then work it in...'
'Yeah, I wasn't going to-'
'And make sure to wipe the surface clean first. You can't put oil on it if it has dust or anything else on it.'
'Yeah, I know. I was going to clean it-'
'And just make sure to...'
So yeah, before I could start doing anything I had to listen to fifteen minutes of him going on and on about how I shouldn't do things. It was like he was convinced I'd suffered serious brain damage and had no idea how to do the most arbitrary things like cleaning a couch.
It got worse, however, because when it came to painting, he must have had some really bad experiences with mentally challenged painters. He kept explaining things that didn't need explaining - at least to most people. Like 'make sure to wash the brush after you're done' or 'just tip the edge of the brush into the paint, don't submerge it completely'. Who the hell would shove a paintbrush completely into the bucket? Well, apparently he was convinced that I would.
'And make sure to hold it like this, tip facing down, because if you hold it the other way the paint will start to drip.'
...Yeah, I know how gravity works. But thank you for the reminder.
'And make sure to get all the edges like this. And then spread the paint out. You don't want any lines here - you want to make it look as natural as possible. And make sure to brush like this... well, maybe not like this but you should avoid this from happening...'
At the same time he was trying to show me how to do things 'the right way' while actually failing to do it the way he was describing it. Not to mention that every time I would finish a job he would be convinced that I didn't do it right so he would come and inspect it, all the while talking about all the different ways I could've screwed things up. One time he came to inspect my paint job and was convinced I'd taken too long and the paint had already dried.
'See, now the paint is dry and there are still lines here. You should have put another layer of paint on top so it would have evened out.' He then proceeded to put his finger on the freshly painted surface to prove his point. Problem was: I had just painted it and it hadn't had the opportunity to even out... He left his fingerprints all over the surface, leaving me to repaint it... again... This went on for days. I had a feeling he just wanted to prove to me that I was doing everything wrong. And the weird thing: he wasn't a bad guy. He just really wanted to show me how capable and smart he was. He wanted to teach but didn't take into consideration that I wasn't a complete moron. Sure, I didn't have much experience painting window frames but even an idiot could tell that it's a bad idea to leave a wet brush lying on the ground or paint over a dusty surface.
It was even worse when I had to assemble a shelf. I was almost done with it and it looked pretty good when the guy showed up and was convinced I hadn't done it properly. He proceeded to disassemble it, read the instructions to me out loud and put it back together only to discover that I, in fact, had not made a mistake and everything was in order. Did I ever receive a 'sorry' after any of those episodes? Nope! None whatsoever. He would just quietly slink into the shadows and that was it... until the next time he wanted to tell me how I was doing everything wrong.
Long story short: after a month of helping these people out, I was ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. It was way too much: the work was hard, the guy kept rearranging his garage every few days so I had to lift a bunch of boxes from one shelf to another and the next day back again. He also had a hard time throwing stuff away. He had several kilos of screws. Just screws. God knows why he needed all of them but he made me pick up every single one of them from the garage floor because 'These might be useful later'. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
I was supposed to help them for a whole month... but I quit earlier because I just couldn't handle it anymore and I really wanted to enjoy the last week of my vacation. I sent them a letter saying that something urgent had come up and I couldn't help them out anymore. I never received a reply... Oh well, at least it was fun for a while... And I know all about sandpaper now.
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