Tag Archives: go to hell

This is what I decided…

Alright, soooo last week I filled y’all in on the trials and tribulations of my job.

This is what I decided.

For now, I’m going to hold off on making some giant, ta-da plan, and just hunker down and hunt for new jobs. Because, sometimes, a problem just isn’t worth fixing.

So, yesterday I updated my resume. And today, I applied for two jobs that both look pretty cool. And you know what? I feel really good about that decision, because today has been a real shit hole in the office.

Of course, it’s Monday, so there’s that. Then, I’m getting some serious work done, and that whole memo thing starts where one person calls me, tells me something to do, I do it, then someone comes in my office and tells me to do the exact same thing, and then I get an email an hour later saying, nevermind.

graaarrrrrr.

Meanwhile, I’ve been watching old episodes of MTV’s Life of Ryan while I do my work—it really makes the day more pleasant.

Anyway, enough about that.

While I didn’t do anything festive on Easter, I was generally just really happy to be relaxing, in my bed, watching DVDs of Sex and The City, because last year on Easter, my then-boyfriend was cheating on me.

I’m just so happy that I’m not in that situation, and that I’ve moved on.

Anyway, that’s all for now…

 

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BACK!!!!!!!!!

Hey guys!

If you’re still reading this blog, THANK YOU. Once again, I apologize that we have gone missing. We are both still alive!!

I feel like everything has happened since 2014 even started, and then when I sit down to write about it, I don’t even know where to start or what to say.

Truthfully, the reason for me not blogging lately is because I’ve just been SOOOO busy. And no, I don’t mean that in the sense of, omg I’m so busy and I’m so kewl.

I mean that in, I have been working my ass off. I’m lucky (heh heh) if I get a few hours of sleep each night.

So, I suppose I’ll just start with that.

Remember Fatso? My coworker? Well, when I came back to work after the holiday break, he got fired. Seriously. The DAY we got back from a 2-week break, he was fired. Like I was here, in my office, and he got fired.

Okay, you get the point.

Well, I was kind of shocked and not surprised all at once, because, let’s face it, he was a little crazy.

But at the same time, stuff changed IMMEDIATELY. Not only was the energy in the office different, but our web team of 5 was knocked down to 4. One of those workers being a temp, so in March our team of 4 became 3.

And while that sounds exciting, guess who has been picking up the slack? THIS MOTHER FUCK.

Did I get a raise? Nope.

The part of Fatso’s job that I’m covering (and have been covering for 4 months) is a giant social media job that pretty much never stops.

I’m not going to lie to you, I have a little more respect for the guy now that I’m doing his dirty work.

And so, not only did the work at my day job pick up, but I’ve still had to maintain my busy freelance schedule so I can ay my bills and occasionally pay for some fun stuff.

So, things have been rough, to say the least.

But, I’m currently working on a plan to present to my boss to see if I can get a raise, therefore lowering some of my freelance workload. Has anyone out there ever done that?

I need all of the help, advice, and encouragement I can get.

HELP.

I promise, I’ll talk to you guys soon!!!

xoxo

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Why am I being punished?

Hey guys!!

I’m sorry it’s been forever—I have SO much to tell you & I promise, there is REASON for me not being around to tell y’all about my exciting life. However, we’ll get to that on a rainy day. Today, I’ve got a little story for you and I hope you’ll weigh in.

Exactly one week ago, I was a guest on my friend’s video podcast. It was a short 40-minute live comedy act and it was pretty funny. The audience was mostly men, and as soon as the show went off-air, some of these guys were texting my friend wanting to know who I was and if I was single.

Oooohhhh heeeeeyyy!!

So one of these guys, we’ll call him MAP, sends me a message on Facebook and after a few exchanges, he asks me for my number. We text a little more and then he asks me if I want to get a simple drink on Friday (yes, Valentine’s Day).

I say yes, and I was pretty excited about it.

At first, I got the vibe that this guy was genuine, nice, he has a good job, owns a condo, has a car, has a degree, is involved in a softball team, has a podcast…

Overall, I was thinking, “Hey, this guy has a life,” which is pretty attractive to me, because I’ve got a lot going on, too.

So, we meet up for drinks, and he orders a nice scotch, I got a vodka. We talked about work, our friends, things like that, but I noticed that he kept talking about his “Budget.”

Now, let’s get this straight. I, too, am on a budget. I get it. And I am NOT looking for someone who is going to swoop in and solve my money problems. However, my money issues are not something I talk about with people I’ve just met.

He was mentioning it so much, that I felt like I should pick up the tab.

So we have two drinks and leave the bar. He walks me to my door, and he goes in for the kiss, and he was holding me so tight I almost fell over. And the kiss… was very forced. Like there were (was?) teeth and tongue and I opened my eyes once because I was trying to pull away.

I went to my apartment with mixed feelings. He seemed nice, like a guy who’s got it all together, but that kiss was horrible…

However, he asked me if i wanted to hang out again and I said sure.

But since then, he’s been texting NON STOP.

Like, we’re talking, he texts me so often, I don’t even have time to answer the questions he is asking me. Sometimes, in a text, he will even ask me what time he should text me.

I don’t know what to do… I feel bad, but we’ve only been on one date and I am already feeling so smothered.

It’s one thing if we have lots to talk about, but it’s another thing, if it’s forced, and I feel like asking me questions like, “What are you having for lunch?” “What’s your political stance?” “Can you do any impressions?” is forced conversations.

Am I horrible? HELP.

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‘I think I made a huge mistake’

That’s what D’s text said Wednesday morning at 12:46 am.

HA. HA. HA.

I just had to laugh when I saw it…

Let’s dissect.

First of all, YOU THINK??!!!

No, asshole, you DID make a huge mistake.

Second of all, AN huge mistake, as in one?

No, you made many, several, a lot of huge mistakes.

After I got over my initial laugh, I thought, “WOW, good tactic.”

The message is so vague it almost demands a response—is he referring to letting me go? The drinking? The arrest? Something that happened 5 minutes prior?—I will never know because I didn’t reply.

I really wasn’t tempted to. He obviously wants to continue these games, but I refuse to lock myself in that emotional hell.

Today, I feel free.

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Part three: The final straw.

You are all probably wondering why there is even a part three; believe me, I was very frustrated, scared, and upset at this point. But I didn’t want to give up.

Even my cynical heart had hope that things would turn around and we could go on like this didn’t happen. But in the weeks following the bar fight, we were very distant.

I built walls around me, just waiting for that third thing to happen when I would say, “That’s it! I’m out of here.”

It happened on a Wenesday night… or rather, a Thursday morning at 4 am. D was texting me, drunk. Actually, he was wasted—most of the texts were just random letters, like he was slamming his fingers down on his phone and sending them to me.

Some words I could read, like him telling me he was going to go back to “someone else.”

That was it. He was drunk again, and now telling me he was going to cheat. Two things I absolutely cannot and will not tolerate.

I replied and told him it was over.

He continued to text me passive aggressive bullshit, but I turned off my phone and tried to get some sleep.

The next morning, D sent me a message saying he couldn’t do this anymore. I took it as him trying to turn the tables and break up with me, but I told him it was already over. Later, he explained that he just meant the crazy drinking, but it doesn’t ultimately matter. It was over.

D is an alcoholic.

When I tell people that, most of them just say, “Well yeah he works in the service industry,” but it’s not that. Alcoholics aren’t just people who like to drink; they have a very serious problem.

It broke my heart to have to let D go… but I know I must make a better life for myself. I have no fucking clue how I keep finding myself in these situations—never ever ever in my darkest nightmares did I think I would be dating a guy like this.

The day after we broke up, I had my locks changed as D had a key to my place. I didn’t think he’d even try to come over, but I’m going out of town soon and didn’t want to take any chances.

That Saturday morning, I woke up at 5 am to pounding on my door. D was outside, drunk, with a styrofoam cup of Crown in his hand.

I am still so very heartbroken. As pathetic as it may sounds, I just want one of these relationships to work. I want to be loved.

I hope that D gets the professional help he needs before something else terrible happens. But I cannot rescue him, help him, or stand by and watch as things unfold anymore.

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Part two: the bar fight.

After getting the DWI, D was terrified he would lose his job. After all, he’d been drinking while on the job and he was driving home when he got pulled over for swerving all over the roads.

But when he got to work, they told him the entire thing was bullshit, and not to worry, because they would hire him the best DWI attorney in the state. When D told me this, I was extremely concerned. He was getting a free ride and wasn’t going to learn the lesson I’d hoped.

I told D I was really concerned and I didn’t know if I could handle our relationship if the drunken drama continued. I was worried for him and for us. He promised me he would cut back on drinking.

For about two weeks, he did.

One Sunday after work, D invited me to come over.

“Oh by the way, Hunter hit my truck,” he texted me before I arrived.

When I got to D’s house, Hunter (a waiter at the restaurant) was sitting on the patio, hammered. D was drinking Crown from a styrofoam cup.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

According to the guys, D had had two cocktails at work and was afraid to drive home, so he asked Hunter to follow him. Hunter, being too drunk to drive, swerved off the road, over-corrected, and hit D’s truck.

“What happened to not drinking and driving?” I asked.

“I had two drinks and, believe me, I was scared to,” D said.

I was pissed. Here we were, two weeks out from an arrest, and he was drinking and driving again. I left and went home.

The next day, a Monday, D was heading an hour away to a second restaurant location. He was joining a server, the other manager and the chef to see if this server (Bobby) wanted to come on as a manager. Bobby drove them, they ate a free meal, I’m assuming they had lots of drinks, and left.

Around 1:30 a.m., D calls me, excited to tell me that him and Bobby got in a fight and roughed up about 9 other guys.

According to D, him and Bobby left the restaurant and it was Bobby’s idea to step into a nearby bar where they saw an Arabic man sitting alone. Because Bobby and D both know Arabic (a fact I didn’t know), they decided to talk to him.

Again, according to D, they didn’t say anything offensive, and out of nowhere this guy pulls a knife out and holds it up to D’s neck. D then flipped him over the table, causing a group of other guys running to the scene and joining in.

D and Bobby were kicked out of the bar, and D was trying to tell me just how “cool” it was when he flipped this guy over the table.

I told him I didn’t think it was cool at all, that it was actually quite trashy, and he didn’t need to be out getting in fights. He is a dad and was just arrested two weeks before.

D was drunk, at a Waffle House, and couldn’t even tell me what city he was in. I told him we needed to have a serious talk later and hung up.

The next day, I told D that the only thing I could think to say or do was to give him an ultimatum. Any more drunken antics and I was out. He said he didn’t want to lose me and that was that.

That night, D got a call from the owner of his restaurant. The Arabic guy came into the restaurant and filed a complaint against D and Tommy. The shopping center threatened to close down the restaurant. D’s job was on the line…

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Why I am a quitter, part II.

Of course I was pissed they gave the job to someone else, but what bothered me even more was that I didn’t even know about it. 

If I’m going to lose at something, I want it to be fair. Give us an interview and tell me I wasn’t the better person for the job. 

After that, it was just downhill. Every story that I pitched was ignored and I only wrote the stories that were assigned to me, which were okay, but not ones I was passionate about. 

Yes, I know, the life of a freelance writer isn’t as glamorous as we’d all like to believe, but there are magazines out there that have meetings, and give ample time to meet deadlines, and actually respect their writers. 

I had been toyed with the idea of quitting for months, but it clicked when they gave me a cover story (large assignment) at the last minute, and then bugged the shit out of me, telling me who to contact (as if I’d never done this before) and setting up 3 photo shoots to get one right picture. 

I had just had it. I’ve been writing for 12 years now, and I’ve worked my way from the bottom up…and this place was still treating me like I was brand new. 

So I quit after the cover story was published. 

My email to the editor was short and sweet, listing no reason for my resignation. Of course, he wrote right back, but I haven’t replied yet as I don’t feel like getting into a back and forth with them. 

I am hoping this gives me more time to do things that I enjoy (like blogging) and perhaps I will find another freelance gig that is more rewarding. 

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