I have to write about this one last time, so that this time the journal entry doesn't stay buried in my computer, or sealed in a box that I've been carrying around for many years, with journals full of my mini-tragedies that will never again see the light of day.
I'm writing this last bit of purging so that no matter what, I never do that again.
I worked hard for that man. I thought that on a soul level we had serious work to do together. There was something about his makeup that made that absolutely fucking impossible to do. I didn't want credit for his work, the way many of the sycophants, some of which he calls his closest friends, do wish to take credit for his work or his accomplishments.
Of course, that shit is just Karma, because he takes credit for other people's work; there are times that it could be excused if he gave credit where credit was due. But there are other times when he was downright delusional and took credit for things that he had just been loosely involved with. Oh, god, the stories he made up to excuse his behavior around that one.
My dad and I used to laugh and jeer about the idiot bosses we'd worked for in our lives. Truthfully, I started to think that it was US... But when I moved down here and went to work for The Prince of Darkness, I remember calling my dad and saying "Dad, it's really hard working for a genius" and he was all "Shut up" like the fact that he wasn't an idiot made it okay.
And I tried to make that true. This man took all the fun out of dysfunction. He had a Ph.D in dysfunction. He might have invented dysfunction in another lifetime.
And what is funny, is that I really did try. I really did. I was confused and mystified the whole time because it seemed like the only things he wanted to trust me with were things were the kinds of things that anyone could do. plunk plunk keyboard phone someone at door do it all over again. But it was pretty rare that he would let me do anything beyond that.
There were times that I had to wrestle control from the Whore, because, seriously, you can't run a business that has flush summers and sparse winters, and not balance the checkbook for 6-9 months at a time. It caused a huge amount of stress for everyone, the fact we didn't know how much money we had. I finally figured out that she didn't want me to balance the checkbook because she was going to have a hard time explaining why she was buying groceries for her home on the company account.
Apparently she had some concerns about asking me to do shady bookkeeping shit; he had no problem with that whatsoever.
But see, this had never happened to me before. I was promoted in every job I ever had except for the time before I moved when I elected to be a small fish/big pond, where promotion was not going to happen. Twice promotions were against my will.
They could smell the Super Hero on me. And it's true, working for the insurance company helped me to begin to break the Super Hero Habit. I still worked hard, did a good job, but it was the one job that didn't have Crazy Dysfunction. Twice I was blackmailed into taking promotions that I tried to refuse.
Once I was past the waitress stage and got my first big girl job, it was the pattern. I learned, it I mastered it, I excelled at it, I got promotions that came with even cooler Super Hero outfits. One was sparkly. I tried so hard not to take that promotion, but all of a sudden I was like, ohhh shiny.
Not with the False Prophet. We had our ups and downs from the very beginning. He worked from home and we only saw each other in those days at events and instead talked on the phone everyday.
Just like the time I went insane and put a second type of bath soap in the shower and the world almost ended (and, ah, ahem, if that wasn't a NEON freaking SIGN, I don't know what is,) there were signs. There were signs in freaking neon that I totally ignored.
I remember in the interview with the him, her and She Who Came Before Me,the office manager who was running for the hills, but helping do interviews to replace her. I explained to them that I had a knack for finding the worst case dysfunctional jobs on the planet. I could smell it in the ad, and before I knew what the hell happened, I'd be like, Look They Need Me.
So I felt I was quite clear that I wasn't looking for that kind of job. And I remember that the three of them quickly exchanged glances. I think that She Who Came Before Me threw up in her mouth a little, and there is just no excuse for what happened next, right?
I can try to blame them all I want, like we humans will do when things are seriously fucked up and we know that we, and we alone are responsible for putting up with that shit but we just can't quite admit it yet. But I know it was my responsibility, or I was a co-creator of all that crazy.
The first event I worked for them, I was quickly solo, with barely any training. And while I'm trying to do sales for the False Prophet, he asked me about a product, one we didn't have so I was unfamiliar with and he just went off on me. In front of customers. While I was handling his money. That's just stupid.
This is why I don't carry a handgun, because I don't take shit like that from people without somebody going to jail.
Important is that he put me in a state of PTSD where I was a bumbling idiot for the rest of the day. And then I had to tell him and the Whore: you may never speak to me that way again. He apologized to me the next day, but that's how the whole thing started.
From the beginning I was like WTF, can't you see I'm a Super Hero. True, I've taken off my shiny costume and I no longer brag about the fact that I have a Ph.D in Multitasking. I still did it, but I stopped letting people expect that of me.
Anyway, from the very beginning and then periodically I expected to be fired. He used to tell his
And as I said before, I thought we had work to do together. And at first, I just wanted a paycheck, a job that meant something, and the education that was available there. I paid a lot for this particular education. Because he was a tyrant to work for and I have a big mouth. I stopped listening to my parents and began to question everything when I was 10 years old an my parents stuck their heads in a beer bottle. So we had our ups and downs.
And then we'd have these good spells, and then the strangest thing happened and I started to talk to him like a friend sometimes. I tried to keep those communications separate from work, like my personal email account. And we shared some shit. I never fooled myself into thinking he was my friend. It's kind of confusing. Maybe there were times I talked to him because he was the only person I knew that was more fucked up than I was.
The end of the week before I got fired, he answered an email to my personal email box where I was talking about some of the crazeeee shit that happened surrounding my dad's death. He told me that I was an amazing person. He said I was more self-aware and insightful than most people he knew. I laughed to myself wondering if he was out-sourcing his inbox, cuz that was pretty nice shit for someone to say and especially for him. He only complimented people he was about to seriously USE.
And then over the weekend when my move was finally taking place, the most fucked up move ever in the history of the world, the Whore, in a hurry to complete some task at the last minute, completely NUKED the accounting system at work. I mean made it go away. In a way it could not be restored. And I was supposed to stop what I was doing because she was paying a babysitter. I was paying movers.
And I put up with enough shit from this woman and I was still in fresh grief. All my shit is in boxes in a very get the fuck out of here now kind of way because I'd had to be out of town because of dad. And I just wasn't going to stop what I was doing to put up with her bullshit. She called my phone and texted me so many times I finally called her and told her to stop.
In all that time, I'd never seen her angry, but shit this seemed to do the trick and she engineered my demise over the weekend in an effort to take the glaring spotlight off of what a dumb bitch she was. She was livid because of how much she had spent in childcare and she couldn't do her job, as if this was my fault. She cared more about that fact than the fact she had WMD's her businesses financial and sales records.
I considered leaving a couple times. In the end, I decided that I could not walk away. Slap slap slap slap slap. I felt I had a reason for being there, and I didn't know how to tell when I was done.
And I now have the answer to that. When they escort you to the door. That's when you're done.
It wasn't so much that he fired me, it was the way he did it. It was the timing. It was the fact that things between him and I were as okay as they'd ever been. It was the fact that instead of just saying, this isn't working anymore (no shit, huh?) he became incredibly cruel about it. He got so bad that the Whore actually had to tell him to shut up, and she was the engineer of this train wreck.
I was surprised he was so cruel. I was shocked that he took personal things I had shared and used them against me in that venue.
I shouldn't have been shocked, but I was. And that will be the dumbest thing I say out loud today, because I watched him do it over and over to his friends. Dash people to the ground to hear the breaky glass noise and spin a story to cover his conscious.
I never met two more ridiculous people in my life. And I'm more happy to be rid of them than I can even express in words. For someone who teaches about Karma, that was all pretty fucked up. From start to finish.
I sometimes feel badly for the people who have him on this pedestal. If his customers/students knew what he was really like, a cruel, low energy, pot smoking, violent tv watching, evil son of a bitch they would all just die. I had my moments when I toyed with the idea of telling them all, but I pay attention to Karma, and it was a fun thought, but nothing more. There was no way I was going to stoop to that level.
The only revenge I'll have is revenge I'd rather not have. Because I had to appeal my unemployment insurance, I'm now forced to say bad shit about him in front of people. I hired a lawyer that I could not afford, just so that I could know that anything bad I had to say had a purpose, defending myself, and that I wasn't just spewing bullshit. Because I could go on for days and days and day.
Sometimes I wonder if my dad, freshly an angel who was probably watching this had a hand in the abrupt and crazy end. I kind of hope so. Because the fact remains that I excused and tried to explain away a lot of behavior of the False Prophet. And I learned to do that beginning with my parents.
I spent a lot of years making excuses for them, for the crazy shit they did, together and on their own. I had a Ph.D in making excuses for irresponsible emotionally damaged crazy people. And I had a closet full of really cute super hero costumes.
And just like with the Crazy Bitch who couldn't handle more than one type of soap in the shower, and yes, I made lots and lots of excuses for her also, I have to never, ever do that again.
So. As God is my witness, I will never be hungry again!
Yes, I just went all Scarlett O'Hara on your ass.
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