The week has flown by. I woke up thinking it was Wednesday. One of those instances when it’s good to be wrong. Today is Thursday. I had to get into work early since I had two meetings to take care of, sign for breakfast, set up the breakfast, make coffee and arrange the food that is barely touched.

I am definitely trying to be positive in the new job. I smile, whistle, tell someone, “nice shirt, blouse etc”. I try to interact. The women who hosted the meetings thanked me and that was nice and kind. Most of the men don’t interact. I guess they are sussing me out. Trying to figure out what’s what. There’s a new guy, Justin who seems cool. I should perhaps gravitate to him. We can be newbies together.

Julio and Bill have been supportive of me in the sense to not give in and it’s greatly appreciated. I know my only option is that I have to hang in there. Bill and Julio have been resolute in talking me through this. Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny.

I do have issues with things like this, severe changes. Annemarie mentioned something a while back about how when she was in eighth grade and I was in first grade, they had to pry my fingers from the fence outside in the playground when classes began in the school. I was crying and screaming and wanted my mother to come back and not leave me with these people.

I had forgotten that for a long time and when Annemarie told me about it, it slowly started to come back to me. I remembered the feeling. I also thought about how it looked. Like I was looking at film of me being pried off the fence kicking and screaming. This happened frequently, if not daily. I never liked school, except for eighth grade. That’s about it.

I wonder what happened to a few classmates from grammar school. I saw two of them at my high school reunion. They wondered as well. But I never cross paths with anyone from those days. I hope their all doing well. After no contact with my classmates for thirty years, I really doubt we’d have anything in common. I’m sure I’m not the only gay person. I did hear that Gwen Garicki was a lesbian. We were voted class clowns back in the day. Somewhere there is a picture with Gwen and I stone faced holding an open umbrella amongst cardboard cutouts of a flood.

I still think it’s a funny picture. Makes me smile thirty years later. A surrealist at 13.

Who knew? I sometimes still dream of St. Francis de Sales school. I remember the smell when the parish had the Bazaar in June. That was magical. I only went to a handful of the Bazaars, but I remember the coin toss where you win a dish. I remember the smell of sausages cooking, the sounds of riders on the Octopus and the Tip Top. St. Joseph’s Boulevard was the center of my world.

Now it’s here.

Ok. Things ended weirdly with Julio last night. Weird enough that I asked him to leave. I was explaining that I didn’t do as planned, which was going onto Bill’s Mac’s or even Julio’s Mac. I felt confident enough not to, despite my nagging doubts. Julio said I was going to be sorry that I didn’t touch a Mac. I took that as Julio saying that I was going to fail miserably. That’s not what I needed to hear, or to think I heard, to have my paranoia fed to me. It was time for him to go home anyhow, I just sped up the process.

This was a few hours after I wrote last night’s blog. I was feeling full of self-doubt I didn’t need to hear that from him. I know it was in good fun but I was trying to psych myself up somewhat for the next day’s work. It didn’t help. Bill was surprised that I rushed Julio out and asked why. All I could say was read the blog and you will see.

I am doing better. My dear sister, Annemarie (who is so great) told me about her situation when she had started a new job. Pretty much similar to mine. A positive spin on things helped her out and I plan on trying to do the same. It’s not so much that I’m missing the old job, more like missing my friends that I worked with. And not just them but people I interacted with in the area of the office.

The Egyptian hot dog guy who’s kids I was putting through ivy league colleges, the Korean girl I would buy cookies from, Tony the West Indian dude who would make my egg sandwich once a week, and Rose the sweet old lady that I spoke to a few times a week and ordered milk for the office from her (No, she wasn’t lactating) and the building security staff that out of a few thousand people they watched over, I seemed to be the only one that treated them with respect. I hope to see them again, but who knows?

I know I can’t go back to Wanker Banker again, that much is for sure.

My problem is a fear of the unknown. I was comfortable yet uncomfortable in that cocoon that I was in for 3 and a half years. I was my own boss, and I was the smartest in the office in matters that weren’t financial, and also the office hipster. Now, I’m with creative people, no longer the lone hipster. I am the new guy that no one knows anything about.

They did hire me, they like me. They didn’t ask about computer programs which probably would have hamstringed me somewhat. It was my personality and my resume that got me there. I didn’t lie on the resume, so there’s no panicking on that front. Just that I am so eager to please, and trying hard at it. It’s only my fourth day, I have to adapt to this situation.

I must stop acting like such a pussy and be myself. I am surrounded by family and friends that love me, Julio included, giving me support, albeit sometimes offhandedly. It’s a good job, nothing I haven’t done before. I just hope they don’t expect me to hit the ground running and I don’t think they do. I’m wasting energy trying to read their minds, I just have to go and do my job to the best of my ability.

Tonight was a session with Phillip Beansprout, which went well. Bill and I told him that we were getting along great, communicating a lot and spending a lot more time together. We told him about the trip to Washington DC and how that went. We also told him that this might be our last session, to which he seemed dismayed.

We will continue the sessions after the insurance runs out though we don’t know how long we will continue. We both like old Phillip.

Oh yes, one more thing. Got a letter from the New York State Department of Labor, asking where their money is. This time I am making a photocopy of the judge’s ruling and sending it to them instead of the usual faxing, in their postage paid envelope. That should explain it all to them.