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Kingston Advice

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I was out cold last night. Slept like a rock. I was hurtin’ from the Chiropractor so I took a Tylenol PM. By 11:15 was having difficulty keeping my eyes open. Bill went to bed at roughly the same time and we cuddled as I fell into the arms of Morpheus. So deep was the sleep I know not of what I may have dreamt. But I woke up feeling all right, a little groggy, but otherwise samo samo. Puttered about, not bellyaching about having to go to work, for I wanted to see what condition Felicia might be in. I tried calling her last night but got no answer.

I walked to the Path, got some bananas from Plantain man with his pup tent. He’s been looking pretty good lately and has been smiling a lot when I get my bananas. I was listening to the Clash, ‘Sandinista’. A great record, I was playing disc two. One big regret I have is never going to see the Clash live, though I’ve had a few opportunities. What the fuck was I thinking? I mean, they played about 25 shows at Bonds in Times Square in 1980 and I never got it together to go. I suppose I was afraid of having to go alone. That prevented me a lot back in the day. I got over it a short time later.

I got off the Path train at Ninth Street and walked down Sixth Avenue, stopping to get a bagel on Carmine Street. Got the free newspapers and the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal for the office. Set about starting up the office, making a ton of coffee, changed into the extra t-shirt that I keep there since I turn into a big Irish sweater when the temperature goes above 75 degrees. People started to dribble in about 45 minutes later as I sat at my desk. Felicia came in and didn’t look bad at all, no outward signs of having had a seizure.

We chatted and discussed the events that happened yesterday. I was really glad to see her, since I wouldn’t have to be running the show by myself. She was up for the task when all of a sudden, I just lost interest in most everything. I was really fed up and disgusted with working there. Granted I had been in contact with Mark and been leading him on, and I realize that tomorrow I’m going to have to tell him I’m not going to leave McMann and Tate.

I had an epiphany. You see, I said I wasn’t feeling too well and they sent me home around 3:00. I wasn’t physically ill, just wanted to get the hell out of there. I feel better now. The epiphany is that this is my job. I have to hang in there. This might be a symptom of the last fitting in pains. I certainly don’t want to have to go through the whole process of starting at a new job all over again. I came up with the plan to stay at McMann and Tate for a year and decide what to do next April. Seems like a good plan. Anything could happen between now and then.

So the mantra today, and probably for the rest of the week/month/year, will be to hang in there. It was the same mantra last month. Maybe I’m having my period. I don’t know.

There Ain’t Half Been Some Clever Bastards

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At wit’s end whatever that means. Pretty miserable. Work sucked big time today. Instead of politely telling Mark, the counselor that got me the Wanker Banker gig, thanks but no thanks, I said, ‘Tell Me More’. Really, that was the subject on the email. It’s a law firm in the heart of Times Square, which may be too close for Bill’s comfort. This job is at 7 Times Square, Bill works at 4 Times Square. It actually may be too close for me. Anyway I don’t have the job so that’s not really a concern.

The snobbishness of the office is appalling. So many noses in the air, granted they are busy fucking beavers, but would it hurt to throw something in the garbage can two feet away from them? Apparently it would. It’s getting annoying. I know it’s my job to help keep things tidy and neat, but man they don’t meet anyone halfway. And it’s so bad that I’m not caring anymore. That cup of coffee that was sitting on the counter for over an hour? Pour it down the drain? No, I poured it into the iced coffee.

And I fart whenever I have to, no matter where I am. The passing of gas has to happen, silent but deadly. I don’t care anymore. It took me three and a half years to feel like this at Wanker Banker, now it’s only taken a little over three months at McMann and Tate. I don’t know it could be because Felicia wasn’t in today. She has been an ally at work. We both dislike the same people basically, and with Felicia out, there was no ally.

I texted Felicia this morning to let her know that we needed milk and ask her to pick some up. It has to be organic milk. The delis and stores in our vicinity don’t carry organic milk, they carry milk milk. At the usual prices, so regular milk just won’t do. Oh they’ll drink the milk in front of them, put it in their Cap’n Crunch Peanut Butter cereal, or in their coffee, but man they grumble and moan about how horrible it is. Then they’ll put the empty container back in the fridge rather than the garbage can directly behind them.

Felicia responded that she was throwing up and will be in a little late. Turns out she wasn’t going to make it in at all. She had a seizure and had to go to the hospital. I didn’t know this until she phoned from the pharmacy were she was picking up some medication. This morning before I knew about what happened, I did my usual job of sending out an email, ‘the morning announcement’ pertaining to who’s out sick, on vacation, traveling or running late. I mentioned that Felicia was running late. As far as I knew at that time she was.

Hours later, some dingle berry asks me what was Felicia’s story, did I hear from her. I told them I didn’t and I was a bit worried. I tried calling several times and left voicemails asking if she was alright. Like I said I didn’t hear from her until after the hospital, when she was waiting for her prescription. I sent out an email stating that she was at the hospital and she’s better now. A few people came up and asked what happened and I told them that Felicia had a seizure.

They seemed concerned, after all they’ve been through this with Felicia’s cancer before. That was nice of them. Of course these were the people that Felicia and I agree are good people. None of the nasty bitches and that’s a non gender specific term bitches, asked about Felicia’s well being.

Well I got out of there as soon as I could, had an appointment with the chiropractor and wound up feeling worse than I did when I walked in there. I don’t think I’ll continue treatment with the doctor. It’s like an assembly line in the office, always someone next in line, in and out. The doctor attempts a conversation, but doesn’t listen to what your saying, just a lot of ‘Yeah, uh huh. Yeah’ If you can’t even fake carrying your end of the conversation why bother?

After leaving the chiropractor’s office feeling misshapen, I walked to the Path train, head throbbing and rather miserable. Bill came home and gave me a hug, which really helped a lot, emotionally, mentally and physically. These are the moments where it’s all worth it.