It took me a while to get out of bed this morning. I could have slept for about 12 more hours, but after maxing out my number of snoozes, I had to get the hell up. It felt like an eternity since I’d performed my morning routine, but I prepped my lunch, cleaned, made my bed, showered, and was out the door looking relatively presentable by 9:30 a.m.
I arrived at The Clubhouse at 10 a.m., and settled into my office. 10:05 a.m. came around, and I hadn’t had an altercation. Maybe this was going to be a good day? I wasn’t having it, though. My sore throat from last night had now been joined by severe congestion and sinus pressure. It looked like I had been crying, which I actually came close to doing pon de subway this morning. “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” played on shuffle, and I found myself fighting back tears. What the hell is going on in my life right now?
“Are you getting sick?” Big Bird asked from behind her three computer monitors.
“I don’t think so,” I wheezed.
“Ah, maybe too much partying,” she said.
I didn’t want to give Big Bird the benefit of being spot on with her diagnosis.
“Not exactly,” I muttered.
That was sort of true, right? Sure. Let’s go with that.
I knew I had to bring up the Vegas time off today, but Big Bird wasn’t in the best of moods. I decided to delay my request until after lunch.
I finished my work for the day fairly quickly, then spent the rest of my morning browsing around the web. Big Bird had asked for an update on what I was working on, and somehow, I managed to completely bullshit at least ten different projects. Don’t ask me how. I just did. Wow.
With Big Bird satisfied with my “work,” I headed upstairs to drop something off at the front desk. Passing through the event space outside my office, there was a ton of leftover food from one of this morning’s functions. I went to town. I gorged on everything from brownies to barbecued chicken before I finally went upstairs around 1 p.m.
After delivering some paperwork to Niall, I turned around and began walking back to my office. That’s when the inevitable happened. It may have been three hours after I had started my shift, but I was stopped by Sheriff Stella in the middle of the club – right in front of staff members and guests. This was not going to end well.
“I want to make sure you know that you’re expected to have full availability for the Toronto International Film Festival,” Stella barked. “We absolutely need you for the entire two weeks. No exceptions.”
I started shaking inside. As usual, Stella had completely caught me off guard. Despite having rehearsed comebacks a thousand times in my head, I didn’t know what to say. If Stella had approached me like a normal person, I would’ve had a better handle on things. I felt like a complete pussy, though.
“Oh,” I stuttered. “Well, I – I have some pre-existing arrangements during that time.”
Stella was not happy with my response. Neither was I, really. Literally six inches away from my face, the woman was about to rip my head off. Stella wasn’t having it.
“Well, you’ll just have to see if you can get out of it,” she shot back. “If you can’t, we will have to discuss it in my office.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was like a deer in headlights the entire time. As usual, Stella then changed her tune as she walked away.
“Okay, sweetie,” she said with a huge smile. “Thank you so much!”
What the fuck had just happened? I was so taken aback. My first instinct was to run for a Xanax. However, there was still food outside my office. I helped myself to some more chicken and brownies instead. I also texted Mom about what had happened, along with the fact that I was on the verge of an extreme panic attack.
Mom: “Call me.”
Migrating outside The Clubhouse to what seems to be my usual breakdown spot, I sat on the fire escape stairs and called Mom. We talked through what my next step would be, and decided I should just come clean to Big Bird about everything. Bite the bullet, and face whatever consequences would come my way. It’s funny. When you don’t care about being fired, there’s less on the line to worry about.
When I returned to my office, Big Bird was on the phone. Twenty minutes passed, and she was still squawking away. After that, she needed to send an email. Finally, once I had collected myself and rehearsed an intro a few times in my head, I told Big Bird that we needed to have a conversation. I told Big Bird that I was trying my best to stay calm, but I immediately wanted to cry. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I told Big Bird everything. I told her how the management staff have been awful to me, I told her about the recent incidents I’d had with Stella, and how other people feel about her – I also called her a “witch” – and even went as far to say that I would not work at the front desk anymore. Conveniently, my three-month review is set to happen next week. This gave me an in for negotiations. Except, there was no negotiating happening today. I told Big Bird that come September 1, I will no longer work at the front desk.
Big Bird was more than amazing with how she handled this entire situation. In fact, she treated me more as a friend than a boss. Much to her confession, Big Bird was telling me things she probably shouldn’t have. Everything from the politics of the building, to her personal feelings and general distaste for people like Stella.
Although Big Bird agreed that the timing of my Las Vegas trip was shitty, she also said there wasn’t much that could be done about it. I mean, what was going to happen? Did The Clubhouse really expect me to choose them over Mariah Carey? Get fuckin’ real, you clowns. As if! Big Bird assured me things would be fine. We would find a solution to both the Vegas and front desk issues. I’m not going to lie. I cried a couple of times during our conversation. Not anything major, but enough to convey the point that I was upset. And I really was.
I’ve reached my breaking point. I understand that there are going to be people you encounter at jobs who you might not get along with, but this is next level. The abuse is also coming from management, as opposed to a co-worker. I won’t sit back and allow myself to be treated like this. I don’t know how others at The Clubhouse have done it, but I won’t stand for it. Either things change for the better, or I’m out. I don’t need this fucking job. If anything, The Clubhouse needs me. I’m a breath of fresh fucking air. If they could only realize that, maybe their club wouldn’t be filled with flies. Literally.
After my discussion with Big Bird, I felt so much better. When she left the office for a managers’ meeting soon after we had finished talking, I called Mom and gave her a full rundown. As it stands now, Big Bird is going to fight my battle for the Vegas days. She’ll also talk with The Clubhouse’s accountant to see if there is enough money in the budget for me to work another two days in our office. If not, I’ll stick with my three days of the week, and we’ll move forward from there. Either way, I won’t be at the desk anymore. It’s as simple as that.
The day progressed without any further issues. Given that Big Bird had helped me out, I decided to actually do some work. Lauryn also stopped by to do an interview with Lucy for a “How To” guide for TIFF visitors. I gave Lauryn a tour of the building while we caught up, and then returned to my office and continued working/trolling the internet.
Time passed. Eventually, it was 6:30 p.m. and Mom, Dad, and Phillip were picking me up for a family dinner at Bellwoods Brewery. I wasn’t exactly pleased with their choice, given that we were going to a brewery when I am in the middle of arranging a visit to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, but I suppose that’s going to be my reality from now on. Do I think I’ll never drink again? Probably not. Right now, I have no desire to. I wouldn’t say that feeling is going to last forever, though.
The other night, I reached out to my friend Sophia. We hadn’t talked in a while, but I remembered her once telling me that she hadn’t had a drink in something like six years. I asked Sophia a few questions about AA, and she is going to put me in touch with a friend who will either take me to a meeting with her, or give me a list of the best ones to go to. I think this is going to be really good for me. I need it. AA could be a great step forward. Sophia was really proud of me. Everyone seems to be, actually. It’s a weird feeling.
Since the whole Fire Island fiasco, I still have friends reaching out to see how I’m doing. Their concern means so much to me. For a long time, I just thought people didn’t care. I felt so unappreciated and worthless to everyone, but it turns out I have an amazing support group that has really rallied and come to my rescue. It shows who your true friends are. For example, someone like Dan has reached out consistently. Aaron, Sebastian, Connor, Natasha, and Lauryn, too. Meanwhile, I haven’t heard a word from Evan. Unfortunately, that doesn’t surprise me.
Dinner was good. Phillip was in a bit of a sour mood. Given the way we were seated along a bar table, I was sandwiched between Mom and a wall and didn’t interact with him or Dad very much. I gave the family a quick update on a few work-related items, but didn’t talk about New York City or how I was moving forward with alcohol-related things. It’s not that I want to hide anything, I just don’t want to bring up my struggles so casually. Working towards sobriety/moderation is very important to me. If someone wants to know or has any questions, I will absolutely tell them. The people who need to know, will know.
Dinner wrapped up. After dropping Phillip off at his apartment, Mom and Dad drove me to the Witch Cave. I don’t know why, but I brought up my problems with Phillip on the drive across town. It was probably because I didn’t like Phillip’s attitude at dinner, but I also wanted Mom and Dad to know his recent actions had been bothering me.
Dad was far too defensive. I understand wanting to stand up for Phillip, but Dad just wasn’t getting it. Phillip’s behavior towards me isn’t okay. It’s also not okay for Dad to say something like, “That’s just how he is, and you’ll have to accept it.” Umm, pardonne moi? No, no, no. That’s not an excuse. Stop excusing people’s shitty behavior!
Why does this always happen? It’s like my work situation right now. I will not allow someone to make me feel less than, and excuse it as, “That’s just how they are.” Uh, no. You’re a shitty person, and I have the right disassociate myself from you and your rotten attitude.
By the time we had arrived at the Witch Cave, I think Dad finally saw my point of view. Hopefully, that will translate into some sort of conversation with Phillip. At the same time, I have thrown in the towel when it comes to having a relationship with my brother. We’ll always be siblings, but I don’t think we are going to be friends. Phillip makes me feel completely unwanted. It would be bad enough if he was a friend, but what do you do when family treats you like this? I’ve already explained the way I feel to Phillip in extreme detail – twice – and nothing has changed. I’ll see him at Christmas, I guess.
Now back at the Witch Cave, I relaxed for a bit. Despite the amount of food I ate tonight, I didn’t feel like a complete fat ass. I jacked off, ran a bath, and that’s where I am now. I figured I would multi-task. Soaking in Epsom salts while doing some writing counts, right?
This journal entry hasn’t been my favorite. It’s so fucking boring. Dull. I don’t think I’ll be re-reading this piece any time soon.
I’m exhausted. The later it gets, the more my throat hurts. I need to go to bed, but these things take so damn long to write. I just don’t have enough hours in the day to do it all. It actually stresses me out when I can’t finish a journal entry. Fuck.
I need a massage.
I need liposuction, or some miracle weight loss pill.
I need to work out.
I need more fucking hours in my day.
The pro to all of this recent craziness is that I haven’t had time to think about dating, which is a nice change of pace from the last two months of complete desperation. No more of that bullshit. At least I’ve been staying true to my promise of worrying more about myself these days. Who knew there was so much to worry about? Oh, wait. Everyone did.
After this bath, I’m going to take a shower. I peed in the tub. Whoopsie.
Fuck, man. I am tired.
I am also very grateful for my Mom and Dad, and all that they help me with. Dad shows it in his own way. Mom can be overly involved at times. Either way, it’s both encouraging and heartwarming to know that I am being taken care of.
Goodnight xo
"Ain’t No Mountain High Enough" - Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell
@yalittlenasty Instagram post from this afternoon.