I seem to be competing with myself on how early I can wake up. Today’s internal alarm rang at 6 a.m., after which I couldn’t get back to bed. I had a calm morning at the Witch Cave, then made my way to The Clubhouse for 10 a.m. I’m probably already pushing the limits on my work attire, but fuck it. I wore jeans and a floral silk shirt today.
Speaking of clothes, Robyn sprung it on me today that I will likely have to wear the Clubhouse “uniform” when I work my shifts at the concierge desk. It’s – brown. I’m sorry, what?
First of all, nobody looks good in khaki pants. Second of all, I didn’t sign up for a uniform. Come to think of it, I don’t know what the hell I signed up for. Considering Robyn asked me today what I thought my job title should be, I don’t think she quite knows either.
Robyn keeps telling me that I’m in a “grey area.” I’m not a salaried employee, but I’m also not a part of the hourly service staff. Well, fucking color in the lines, girl! I don’t want to feel like I’m stepping on people’s toes, simply because I have a few more privileges than they do.
While discussing my potential job title, Robyn suggested “Membership Liaison,” as that’s what they called the last girl in my spot. Since The Clubhouse created this hybrid position specially for me, I figured I had room to negotiate something a little more resume-friendly.
“Hmm. Well, that’s nice,” I said. “But, I was thinking about something more along the lines of ‘Member Relations Coordinator.’”
Robyn seemed to like my suggestion. We’ll see what The Clubhouse’s president has to say about it.
Overall, today was a better day than yesterday. Absolutely. Fortunately, it was also much cooler in my office, despite the ventilation issue not actually having been fixed. Naturally, I wasted no time in voicing my strong opinions on the dismal air quality.
Natasha recently moved downtown. She and her (phantom) boyfriend Konrad are leasing a new condo, which is actually located a few blocks away from The Clubhouse. At Natasha’s suggestion, we had lunch together this afternoon.
It was so great to see Natasha and spend time with her. We caught up on everything. She looked stunning, as usual. All I wanted during our lunch was to leave work and never go back. Just hang out with Natasha forever. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow’s Love-In. Natasha was such a sweetheart, too – she bought my meal and margarita at lunch to congratulate me on my new job. God bless Natasha. She’s quality. Top shelf.
After lunch, I returned to The Clubhouse and continued working on random tasks. Robyn keeps telling me that we’re going to tackle certain items each day – like teaching me how to clock in and out for my shifts – yet, we never end up getting to them. I’m now beginning to wonder if Robyn is one of those people who constantly says things like, “My office never looks like this,” when in reality it’s looked that way for twelve years.
This afternoon, it was clear that Robyn was not in the best mood. Someone kept calling Robyn’s line when she was trying to finish something, and I got a taste of what she’d be like if you pissed her off. Just a sampling, really. It was not pretty. Note to self: don’t fuck with Robyn Wren.
Today was Friday, which meant that at 5 p.m. The Clubhouse hosted their one-hour drink special, “After Hours.” All members drink for free from 5 p.m. to 6 p.m. Not bad, right? After explaining to me that she wasn’t sure how to handle my attendance and potential drinking – “Some staff members aren’t going to be okay with you going to After Hours, because you’re in a grey area” (oh, fuck off with that already) – Robyn and I emerged from our dungeon of an office and walked upstairs to the rooftop bar. We toasted with beers to celebrate me finishing my first week.
Who was the first person I saw when I arrived on the patio? Riley! She’s a fucking Clubhouse member! Thank God. Thank fucking God. Robyn introduced me to a couple of random members, but it was obvious that she wanted to get the fuck out of the office and start enjoying her weekend. Robyn peaced out early, and I stayed to talk with Riley. I also had another drink.
I’m realizing now that I probably said some things about The Clubhouse to Riley, which I shouldn’t have mentioned at all. I was chatting with Riley as her friend, when I should have been working as an employee. It’s not because I don’t trust Riley. I love the girl. It’s because I hope nobody overheard what I was saying on the patio. Note to self: don’t tell secrets about the company you work for, while at the company you work for. Nobody wants to know they’re being shit-talked.
Lightly buzzed from my two drinks, I hobbled my way towards the Witch Cave. My foot is still hurting, probably more than yesterday. I ran a couple of errands this evening, including food shopping for tomorrow’s festivities, then settled in at home, watched TV, and made dinner. I called Mom after I ate, and we caught up for a bit. It was a nice conversation. I miss my family.
I also spent a lot of my evening tip-toeing around Bryan’s messages again. All night, really. I told Bryan that I couldn’t hang out with him tomorrow, because I had “plans.” I’m going to brainstorm a breakup plan with my friends tomorrow at the Love-In. I need help with this one. It’s tricky.
On the note of tomorrow, I was toying with the idea of inviting RX to the Love-In. However, I sent him a very nice invite to The Clubhouse’s upcoming Pride party yesterday, and he never responded. So, fuck that.
I prepped some food for tomorrow’s park day, did 1,100 sit-ups and pushups, masturbated, and then crawled into bed. I’m tired as all hell, but I’m really looking forward to the Love-In. I love a good anniversary celebration.
Goodnight xo
Me and my floral shirt in my closet/dungeon/office. The Clubhouse, Toronto
Munching. Witch Cave, Toronto
The current state of my toe. Very swollen, bandages underneath, and that damn pin poking through every sock I throw over it. When I leave the house, I wear a shoe on my left foot and a flip flop on my right. Witch Cave, Toronto