Le Freak, the saga

There's a woman I've been dealing with at work. I refer to her as The Crazy Lady, but in view of the topic and because we watched a French movie last night (The Dinner Game, FUNNY), she shall henceforth be known as LE FREAK.

It began in October with one of those fantastic phone calls from the General Public that I just LUV. The GP likes to call me and ask very vague question.

Me: "kT, how can I help you?"
GP: "Um, I'd like to know about history."
Me: "Okay. What can I help you with?"
GP: "Well, what about old buildings?"
Me: "What about them?"

and so on for the next 10 minutes or so until I finally determine that they want someone to pay for them to put new vinyl siding on a 1950s tract ranch house that was built on the farm. We don't do that. End of call, disappointed GP threatening that "I pay your salary with my tax dollars." Sorry, GP, my salary comes from an off-shore oil drilling fund that you pay NOTHING into. Oh, and truly? I don't get paid enough to deal with you.

Le Freak has a house. Okay, her old senile mother owns a house. It's old. It may be significant. But Le Freak is more interested in writing a family history than she is in filling out the forms for the program with which I work. This is a weird government program. Reading between the lines? That means that there are lots of arcane rules and regulations that I have spent 4 years preparing for and 3 years studying directly. I am an expert in the program because it's what I'm paid to do for most of the 40+ hours I sit here in my bureaucratic splendor.

Well, Le Freak tells me in our first phone call that she won't need much help -- she's a lawyer and therefore 1) knows everything and 2) knows how to write. Well, I have a liberal arts degree in English literature as well as a liberal arts Master of Arts degree. But I wouldn't claim to know how to write a legal brief. I'm smarter than that.

Since October, Le Freak has become "a barrister." My unwillingness to just pass through work that doesn't meet any of the requirements of the program are killing her elderly mother. She studied abroad, which is supposed to impress me. She regularly fails to grasp the simplest of comments or suggestions. She insists on sending large photo files to my e-mail account well after business hours despite the fact that they close my account by filling and despite the fact that I have repeatedly asked her to stop sending them. (That was after I asked her to send them during business hours. She did try once -- at 5:15 pm. I work plenty of overtime when needed, but as infrequently as possible since I don't get paid for it!) She insists that her ancestors are important. I'm sure they were nice people, but so are most small town folk out here. If she is the descendent of these nice helpful folks, I'm sure they are disappointed.

In one of three e-mails I received today, Le Freak chastised me for a fax that didn't come through on Friday -- because she was home all day. I e-mailed her just after sending the fax Friday morning, telling her to contact me if it didn't come through. She contacted me after 10 pm on SATURDAY to let me know it didn't come through.

I don't work on Saturdays. Do you? (Shut up, Cathy, that's at a different job and it doesn't count).

Le Freak? Is freaking me out. She's one of the unpleasant people that I am going to enjoy watching my review board put in her place. I do know what I'm doing, and life is easier for all of us if you listen to my guidance and ask questions when you need to -- my job is as guide. But when you antagonize the guide? You may get led into Bear Country.