Since the moment I was capable of self-reflection, I’ve thought of myself as a world-champion grudge holder. There are individuals and events going back decades that I’ve neither forgiven nor forgotten. I hold onto these like the precious gems of knowledge they are – little diamond lessons of pain and betrayal that won’t be repeated. Fool me once and only once, and then get the hell away from me. There is no metaphorical door I will not slam.
I understand that I’m supposed to feel guilty about my lack of forgiveness, but I don’t. Why should I carry that weight around when I’m not the wrongdoer? For instance, I didn’t vote for Brexit. In fact, I fought it (obviously not hard enough). Now it’s happened and every bad thing I expected is a reality. My business is in ruins, everything is more expensive, and the perpetrators continue to lie about the damage they’ve done. Why on earth would I feel guilty about not letting them forget their broken promises? I’ll be carrying this grudge to my grave, and I’ll be seasoning it with a heavy amount of spite.
Back in 2005, I started our family business. I worked hard and built it into an impressive company with thousands of customers. I created jobs, paid lots of tax, and gave as much back to my community as I could. But the charlatans decided they know better and cut my business – and thousands like it – off from our biggest market. In their eyes, none of it mattered – only their inept ideology.
And now the wheels are coming off and they have the audacity to insist that people my age need to get back into full-time work. Sorry to be blunt, but fuck that. They didn’t value my full-time work before they pulled the rug out from under it, and I’ll be damned if I’ll lift a finger to help them out of the mess they’ve created. I knew what was coming. I took steps to shield myself and my family, and I can outlast just about any crisis this incompetent government creates.
So best of luck to them. The Brexit chickens will all be coming home to roost next year. I look forward to their bafflement and flailing. I hope it’s both terrifying and painful.
Fig and Pen 