Hi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction.
Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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August 5
Friday. Thank the Lordt.
I did my usual morning routine, and then made my way to work. As far as office shifts go, today was pretty busy. I helped Big Bird give a tour for a large group of prospective members, and did a bunch of other random tasks all day. I also took a fairly long lunch, escaping to Starbucks to get a coffee and eat my salad.
This is another main difference between The Clubhouse and other jobs I've had. I will do anything in my power to get the fuck out of the building whenever I can. I can't stand half of the staff at The Clubhouse. At The Toronto Film Group, I used to eat my lunch at my desk every day because I loved the people I was surrounded by. My office was bright, sunny, and it was a generally happy work environment. Now, I'm here at The Clubhouse and work in a dark, fly infested office that gets no sunlight and contains a large, bird-like creature who never stops talking or eating – typically doing both at the same time. As Mariah Carey would say, "It's abusive." Mimi would also say, "It's like going to work in Hell with Satan every day," and that's completely accurate as well.
So, I had my little escape in the scorching heat outside Starbucks. Anything is better than the dungeon I call an office. My job fucking sucks. Also, how horrible is it that I've disliked The Clubhouse since my first week? That should have been a red flag right there. The paychecks are just so nice to have, though. Not to mention the fact that I don't have to fill out an unemployment insurance report every two weeks, or constantly search for loose change between my couch cushions.
On the flip side, was I happier when I was unemployed? I was certainly thinner. My new "diet" isn't exactly going as planned, by the way. I can't seem to lose the weight I so badly need to after this whole foot debacle. It hasn't budged. Some mornings, when I'm supposed to weigh my lightest, I seem to have gained two to five pounds. It's insanity. Total insanity.
Anyway, the day progressed. While Big Bird was giving more tours – my favorite time of any day in our office – I would fool around on the internet and do whatever I wanted. I lie constantly at my job. I have never lied so much in my entire life as I have since working at The Clubhouse. It's now gotten to the point where I've become a complete fraud. A total compulsive liar.
I lie about things I don't even have to. For example, those extra siblings I added onto my family. God help me when Big Bird recently asked for their ages. Note to self: I am the second youngest child in my family, and my older siblings are 31, 33, and 35. I should probably just make up some names for my brothers and sisters now, because I'm sure that's coming next. Fortunately, in proper Big Bird fashion, she interrupted her own question by putting on some Janet Jackson music. Hey, it could've been worse.
Big Bird isn't completely awful. She is definitely annoying at times, but at least she's nice. The thing is, Big Bird is a bit of a pussy when it comes to her job. She cares too much about what other employees will think of her actions and decisions. In turn, Big Bird's lack of confidence effects my position. I want to implement changes or make requests, but she's always hesitant to move forward with things. Grow a pair, Big Bird. Better yet, spread your wings and fly!
