Decisions Are Made by Men, Not Women

When I wasn’t home, I was Cindy Marie.  I enjoyed my work.  I enjoyed meeting new people and I enjoyed not being that wall flower.  It is not that I didn’t love Killer, but my love had changed dramatically from the days of the whirl wind romance.  I was maturing.  I was discovering that I had worth and that I was good at something.

In 1984, Pop died and Killer lost his job after fourteen years with Michigan Mutual.  They closed their doors and sold out to Amerisure.  He could have transferred with them, but he refused to move, so he was unemployed.  He was devastated that he was out of a job and he really had no idea how to find one.

The realization that his dream job ended was an eye opener for him.  Killer got up each morning and met his cronies at Sambo’s for breakfast.  Around 10:00 he’d roll into the office and work for a bit, before breaking for lunch.  He played cards with insurance agents in the break room for 90 minutes and in the afternoon he hit the road to go “adjust” claims.  This might take him to Owosso where he’d hang with his body shop buddies at Stewart Auto Body and about mid afternoon he’d come home for the day.  It was a cake walk.  Not to say some days he wasn’t a little busier, but his routine at Michigan Mutual was pretty prime for the pay he received.

He was clueless on how to seek employment.  This man who ruled our world was lost. I actually saw the weak side of him for a brief fleeting moment.  I’m a person who doesn’t sit around and wait for the world to happen, I take charge.  I sat down and started asking him about his employment history and I put together his resume.  Killer stayed home and worked in the yard that spring.  I scoured the want ads and I found positions he could apply for.  I sent his resume out and all he had to do was interview if the calls came in.  I was on the road, but I still found time to do this for him.  He always threw in my face that he was a college graduate and that I was not, but I guess this high school graduate was good at finding employment as he had an interview after the third resume was sent by me.

He interviewed at a company that specialized in medical malpractice.  He did not have a clue how to adjust med mal claims, but he got the job and he was earning twice what he earned at Michigan Mutual.  While he had to interview for the position, I was the woman standing behind him running that show.  He never said a word or thanked me.  I guess that is another wifely duty that I didn’t know existed. I supported him, unlike the times I was unemployed where he cut me down every step of the process.

It was about this time that Killer came home to inform me he’d bought a new toy. He had been driving past Williams Volkswagen/BMW and he saw this car on the lot.  He stopped by to talk to the salesman and ended up taking it for a test drive.  He came home to pick me up.  He wanted to show me something and took me to the dealership.  He loved this car but we had four cars and two drivers. He had bought the car on his first trip to the dealership.  This wasn’t a decision to be made by the two of us, it has already been made.  He drove the vehicle home.  He just needed me to drive him there so he could drive it home.  I called this car the White Crow. Killer had lost a bet that he couldn’t go a year without buying a new car.  It was a 1981 BMW three series. It wasn’t brand new, but it was another car.  Killer couldn’t just drive a plain car; he had to sink money into them to make them unique. 

For instance, the Vega that he bought was a Vega that had been totaled and purchased from the junk yard.  He paid to have it rebuilt, he had the insides stripped and had the seats and interior redone in material from Cadillac.  He replaced the motor with one that was built for speed.  Ask the police officer who pulled him over on Grand River Avenue in East Lansing when he took the car from zero to eighty in one city block at three in the morning.  No dashboard in the car, all the instruments were hanging from wiring as he was having the dashboard custom built. The officer asked him if he knew how fast he was going as he flashed the light across the missing dash board.  Killer had no idea as he pointed out the car was under construction.  The officer informed him of the speed he had clocked him at.  You see the officer was directly behind Killer in a police car.  Killer did not know it was the police as he could not see the car due to no rear view mirror in the car.

This officer must have thought he was nuts.  What sane forty year old dressed in his army fatigues pull this stunt in downtown East Lansing on Grand River Avenue, in front of MSU at three in the morning? The officer let him go with a warning.  I think it was because he thought he was a few lug nuts low on smarts, but again, just my opinion.

Over the period of our marriage, he dropped close to $100,000 between the custom paint job, special tires, the engine and the interior of this car but now he had a new project, the White Crow and the price tag on that car could have funded several college degrees and master degrees as well.

Another lesson was learned, we were not in this together, and he ruled everything. No decisions were made as a couple; he would always run the show regardless. He didn’t approve of my personal belongings when we got married and I was told to sell them.  He didn’t like the car I drove, so he traded it out for what he wanted.  He didn’t like the bra I wore, so he replaced them. He didn’t like the clothes I wore from J W Knapp’s, Sears or J C Penney’s, so he bought me expensive clothes from boutiques. He would always control me on every level possible.