I was waiting with my driver for a parking spot for quite some time (i.e waiting for a blue sedan to
What does Horrible-Khajeeji-woman-with-Omani-plates do?
She mows me down!
I escape with my life but she definately saw me, as I am beating on her hood as she revs into the parking space!
My driver calls me crazy, and she rushes off to avoid me into the nearby shopping mall. If it wasn't Ramadan, I'd have bashed her car in and sworn at her and probably chased after her and hit her in the face or something. I'd trust my luck at the ROP.
In revenge I find her inside, when she's long forgotten me, and spit out my chewing gum, and mush it with the heel of my shoe, into her 100 OMR or more designer abaya.
I felt better. My fast probably didn't count though, bad Muslim that I am.
At the Al Khoud Badr Al Sama hospital about to pay for private services, I am told by the rude Indian girl at the desk that I have to pay the total she is asking me for and only then will she tell me what I am paying for exactly. I ask her if she can write it down for me nicely. She refuses, even when I quote the laws from consumer rights protection office.
Whatev. I ask again, and say, just read your screen off for me and I will write it down.
Again, brat refuses.
More forcefully, I ask again, and add at the end of my request, "or are you just to lazy to do that?"
She continues to act all superior, so what do I do? I reach down from up and behind the counter for her computer monitor and pull it up towards myself so I scan over what I am being charged for exactly. She calls security, and the Omani guys employed there give me HER pen (win for me) so I can write down, as she is told to tell me the price for all services being charged.
WHAT A brat, in nicer terms than I would use. Loved the Nurses there though, the the Philipino and Indian men at the more professional desks who were busy, you know, doing real work, like checking insurance documentation for people instead of having nothing to do but still refusing to do their jobs.
At my work I already got a letter of approval to do an aspect of my job from the highest authority possible beyond Qaboos himself. Serriously. I phone an office connected to my work and ask the Omani girls there if they can do as they are asked in the letter of approval to make the necessary arrangements for my work.
I get a. "who are you?" and nothing. They tell me it can't be done. I ask them then, "it can't be done or you won't do it?"
They don't answer. I tell them to wait five minutes and answer the phone or lose their jobs.
They get a call from Mr. Heavy Wasta of wastas for our area of work in Oman, and of course, now to do whatever I ask, but whatever. Stupid girls.
My boss is giving me a ride to an area we are required to go for our work. Getting there, the security guard is especially rude and condescending to my boss. He thinks he just a driver and stupid.
When his PHds are all announced and the head of that building gets out to greet my boss, whoa, did you ever wish to see the scared look on the security guard's face. I hate people like that, who suck up to you if they think it is worth it but treat people bad if they think you are less than them. Serriously. Drives me bonkers.
I am peacefully shopping at a booth. I smell my evil assailant before I see her.
Out of nowhere I have elbows in my rib cage, and I am literally pulled from scarf behind, to be out of the way, by a woman I know if Dhofari. A very large, very veiled, very accented Dhofari woman. ALWAYS happens to me at shopping exhibitions.
In my anger, I attempt to shove her out of the way, but she doesn't budge. I did mention I weigh under 100 lbs? She definately wasn't in my weight class should it end up in a fight. She ignores my english and shove as if I were a buzzing flie, and as I have had no gum to spit on her abaya, I let it go.
I am peacefully waiting in a money exchange line with several immigrant workers from third world countries. I smell my evil assailant before I see her.
Out of nowhere, a very make-upped and glitzy abaya clad Omani woman cuts in the line ahead of the works.
In my anger, I yank her by her scarf and tell her the line starts at the back behind all the poor guys who've been waiting there for hours, like myself.
I find the people who show up, like my Omani husband, and ask if people in the line waiting would mind if they cut in, only slightly better, and find such acts still repulsive and worthy of outbursts. I am like, that person might not mind, but the rest of us people waiting behind them or worth asking too!
Ugh. End rants for today.
DO you think it is possible to be all laddy-da and relaxed and stress-free in Oman and still get stuff done????