During the time I worked at Long John Silver's, I learned to be careful with what I told my grandfather over the phone especially after work when I'd come home in pain all tired and exhausted. Mom learned quickly not to tell him all about her suffering because he'd sit there on the other end just chortling away, gleeful at our suffering. I made that mistake once and then Mom would talk to him later and hear him laughing as he talked after hearing from me. That's when she advised me to be careful with how much I told him because as she put it "He's just sitting there being entertained by hearing you saying how much you're tired."
Rather than tell me (or us) how proud he was (he wasn't) we had jobs and were working hard, his toxic retired ass sat there enjoying his delight over our misery. He put in a lot of years at Minerva Wax Paper and had a good pension in his retirement so he was living rather comfortably. But being supportive and nurturing wasn't something he did. He wanted people dependent on him and our financial independence was a threat to that.
He was at least a toxic father, didn't much appreciate being a grandparent (at least not that I could tell), but somehow embraced being a Great Grandparent when my first niece came along.
I still remember the one time he left a message on the answering machine (a shame I don't think I still have the tape) calling me a "Goddamn sonuvabitch b@stard." Gee, thanks, Grandpa. Love you, too.
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