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Futility.

BillyNoMates

War Hero
Before we moved house from the rental - I had the misfortune to observe something which
can only be described as "futile". I despair of the younger generation - I really, really do.
We have a 17yr old grandson livin' with us because he don't get waitrress/butler service
at home with his biological mother. He works on the odd occasion but, as yet - hasn't figured
out the Meaning of Life and what it means to have to pay bills, dole out cash, pay for
car insurance (8 points on his provisional - so you can imagine what the premium was) and
all of lifes other trials and tribulations. However, I digress.
One fine evening as I was entering the homestead from yet another long Day-Shift, I caught
sight of said Grandson bimbling up the stairs with a tin of corned beef in his mitt. He was
still in his dressing gown (at 17:00 on a weekday) and he commenced to bang on the bathroom
door where my dearest wife was attempting to have a few minutes "me time" in the shower.
"Gran! Gran!", he's mumbling - waving this tin of corned dog about.
She opens the door and asks;
"Yes? What is it my love?" (Even I don't get greeted with such terms of endearment).
He holds the corned beef tin aloft and says,
"How do you open this gran?"
At this point - I felt the need to throw myself down the stairs and end it all. I'm thinking,
she'll sort of chastise him for being such an utter chimp....but no! Instead, she smiles
sweetly and says,
"Well darling - give it to Grandad and he'll open it for you and put it on a plate as well.
How many sandwiches d'you want? Would you like some salad? Do you want mayo on it as well?
Go on - give it to Grandad - he'll do it for you".
I'd been up since 05:30 and being tasked to open a tin of corned beef on behalf of a 17 year
old with nothing in his brain but Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto sort of left me feeling
that I really should start putting all his gear in bin bags and offering him a lift back to
his own house. Two years on and there's still no sign of that happening.
Am I wrong to think such things? Biological mum'n'dad have never put their hands in their
wallets/purses to assist in support...but I did once get a back payment via the CSA......for
£2.48p. Hurtling towards 60 (July this year) - I think it really should be time for BillyNoMates
and WolfPackleader to have a bit of a life and I want to knock full time employment on the head
before I actually croak in this office, but going on incomings/outgoings - that 'aint going to happen
any time soon.

Sorry to bore you all - just felt like having a sharing moment.
 
Before we moved house from the rental - I had the misfortune to observe something which
can only be described as "futile". I despair of the younger generation - I really, really do.
We have a 17yr old grandson livin' with us because he don't get waitrress/butler service
at home with his biological mother. He works on the odd occasion but, as yet - hasn't figured
out the Meaning of Life and what it means to have to pay bills, dole out cash, pay for
car insurance (8 points on his provisional - so you can imagine what the premium was) and
all of lifes other trials and tribulations. However, I digress.
One fine evening as I was entering the homestead from yet another long Day-Shift, I caught
sight of said Grandson bimbling up the stairs with a tin of corned beef in his mitt. He was
still in his dressing gown (at 17:00 on a weekday) and he commenced to bang on the bathroom
door where my dearest wife was attempting to have a few minutes "me time" in the shower.
"Gran! Gran!", he's mumbling - waving this tin of corned dog about.
She opens the door and asks;
"Yes? What is it my love?" (Even I don't get greeted with such terms of endearment).
He holds the corned beef tin aloft and says,
"How do you open this gran?"
At this point - I felt the need to throw myself down the stairs and end it all. I'm thinking,
she'll sort of chastise him for being such an utter chimp....but no! Instead, she smiles
sweetly and says,
"Well darling - give it to Grandad and he'll open it for you and put it on a plate as well.
How many sandwiches d'you want? Would you like some salad? Do you want mayo on it as well?
Go on - give it to Grandad - he'll do it for you".
I'd been up since 05:30 and being tasked to open a tin of corned beef on behalf of a 17 year
old with nothing in his brain but Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto sort of left me feeling
that I really should start putting all his gear in bin bags and offering him a lift back to
his own house. Two years on and there's still no sign of that happening.
Am I wrong to think such things? Biological mum'n'dad have never put their hands in their
wallets/purses to assist in support...but I did once get a back payment via the CSA......for
£2.48p. Hurtling towards 60 (July this year) - I think it really should be time for BillyNoMates
and WolfPackleader to have a bit of a life and I want to knock full time employment on the head
before I actually croak in this office, but going on incomings/outgoings - that 'aint going to happen
any time soon.

Sorry to bore you all - just felt like having a sharing moment.


Did you open it?



Posted from the Navy Net mobile app (Android / iOS)
 
Question 1. No I ******* didn't

Question 2. 59 (60 on July 13th 2014)

Question 3. Is there light at the end of the tunnel, and where's that ******* tunnel?
 
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Do you mean that you didn't take the golden opportunity and move to the new gaff without telling him? Chance missed I'm afraid...Oh woe is you!
 
Nothing wrong with hitting 60 Billy, I did that last October. I can now officially, in the eyes of the younger generation be a, Good laugh for an old 'un/ wise councillor/ grumpy old bastard/ right outrageous old sod with a pint or so in him/ still ride a bike like he stole it,/ good with the spanners on the old stuff, and get away with murder "because of his age". 60? brilliant!
 
We all have to cut our cloth to a lesser or greater degree when we hang up our tools but if you can afford to pack it all in then go as soon as possibly you can. As for the younger generation, your Grandson is not alone by a long shot.
 
It's a shame really. I see this situation playing out in many of my mates homes. I seem to recall I too played the roll of the grandson. My old man 'advised' I joined the mob. 6 months later there I was arriving at Plymouth station platform #4. Unfortunately the days of the services taking on lost souls has long gone. My advice. Pay for him to get a trade. Chefs school, welding whatever. It's the only way you will get him out on his own.
 
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Billy you have my utmost sympathy, my my albatross is not a grandson but a son. 15 in 2 week, and despite him being classed as bright, he has about as much common dog as a plank. Can opener is a mystery to him (despite patiently trying to show him how it works, not so patiently and hitting him across the napper with it over the years has had not the slightest effect). Two weeks ago, I was cutting some pallets up (good firewood). All it takes is a few cuts with a circular saw, boy wanted to have a go, now all was well with the world, the rain had cleared, me knees were not playing up and my back was pain free, the wench was happy so I thought it a good omen to let him have a go, the saw took off across the face of the pallet at a great rate of knots at a 45 deg angle to the intended cut, the boy starts yelling, I shout at him to let go the trigger, he lets go with his left hand instead, fortunately at this point the saw snags and the blade stops, I gently take the boy by the the neck and proceed to head him away from the power tool. I then go to unsnag the saw, slip on the half eaten sandwich the boy dropped when he came outside, twist my back, bang my knee, the wench then comes out demanding to know what the hell I had done to upset the boy, then the rain stated to fall!
 
Billy you have my utmost sympathy, my my albatross is not a grandson but a son. 15 in 2 week, and despite him being classed as bright, he has about as much common dog as a plank. Can opener is a mystery to him (despite patiently trying to show him how it works, not so patiently and hitting him across the napper with it over the years has had not the slightest effect). Two weeks ago, I was cutting some pallets up (good firewood). All it takes is a few cuts with a circular saw, boy wanted to have a go, now all was well with the world, the rain had cleared, me knees were not playing up and my back was pain free, the wench was happy so I thought it a good omen to let him have a go, the saw took off across the face of the pallet at a great rate of knots at a 45 deg angle to the intended cut, the boy starts yelling, I shout at him to let go the trigger, he lets go with his left hand instead, fortunately at this point the saw snags and the blade stops, I gently take the boy by the the neck and proceed to head him away from the power tool. I then go to unsnag the saw, slip on the half eaten sandwich the boy dropped when he came outside, twist my back, bang my knee, the wench then comes out demanding to know what the hell I had done to upset the boy, then the rain stated to fall!
A litttle less slapping around the head might have lead to a different outcome, but that is the do-gooder-side of me coming out. Mains voltage to the genitals concentrates the mind with less cranium distress.
 
my sympathies BNM

my wife's nephew came to stay so that he could do his A levels as the German educational system didn't 'suit' him. he has lived in Germany all his life. he lasted 18 months before i had to throw him out due to excessive piss taking and a general 'i dont give a f*ck' attitude. The final nail in his coffin was having a party in the house when the memsahib and i had gone away for a 'weekend' even though he was explicitly instructed not to do so by the memsahib. Of course in her eyes he could do no wrong. His dad had to come over to live with him in a rental house for the final 6 months of his education. His parents are content to let him smoke 'weed' in their presence too which IMO if this is the attitude demonstrated by his parents throughout his childhood then it is no surprise he has turned out like he has.

he is now at University far enough away not to be visiting for weekends

he wants to be a 'social worker' dealing with children which if he ever makes it should save him the effort of ever having to grow up

BTW he uses a toaster by continually popping the bread out to look at it rather than using the thermostat..........i am getting annoyed just thinking about it

furthermore my marriage has never been the same since despite the counselling.....
 

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