Car Crime / MYOFB

You know how much I hate Tuesdays, right? Today is no fucking exception. Firstly, its the holiday season (so I’m already grouchy) and all of…

by j. brotherlove

You know how much I hate Tuesdays, right? Today is no fucking exception.

Firstly, its the holiday season (so I’m already grouchy) and all of my thoughts and emotions are up in the air, floating, colliding… And it’s not just me. I’ve noticed others are on edge as well. Hurry up 2004! Endings perpetuate anxiety.

So that’s the setup, aiight?

This morning Loverboy called me in tears because some asshole(s) broke into his car; that’s the downside to living in Midtown vs. his former isolated suburban home. Crime. Now, the fact that his car was vandalized is shitty enough but my boo has a horrible habit of leaving things in his car that he shouldn’t (despite my constant objections). Consequently, in addition to getting the window repaired we have a laundry list of agencies and institutions to contact and replacement peripherals to buy all at a time when he’d rather be spending money on bills and creating holiday cheer.

I sped to his townhome to give him hugs and kisses and kickstart the process of putting things on the road to recovery. In a crisis I get calm and methodical. Loverboy sat on the couch in a deep funk through much of it. Bless his heart.

I made the mistake of giving my manager too many details when I told her I’d be in late this morning. I generally use the “personal emergency” excuse. It’s fabulous because it conveys the importance of the situation and the fact that you don’t want to discuss it in any further detail. After I got to work, my coworker Model T informed that my manager and supervisor were wondering why I needed to be so involved in my “friend’s” situation with him being an adult an all, etc. Funny how they didn’t realize that it is none of their fucking business.

I forgot how excited gossip whores behave when they get even a tidbit of personal information about me. Typically, I am very sheltered at work (oh, who am I kidding, and everywhere else). I’m at work to work. I’m not getting paid to tell you how I spend my paycheck and who I fuck on the weekends. Some people get offended by my standoffishness; especially those who like to talk, talk, talk about the inconsequential details of their boring, boring lives. They take a breather just long enough to ensure I’m paying attention and when they stop, expect me to regurgitate the same enthusiasm about my comings and goings outside of the office. Good luck. Sure they “mean well”. But they can save their good intentions to re-pave the road to hell in my opinion.

Don’t get me wrong, if I worked with people who were a bit more open-minded and progressive perhaps… perhaps… I would be more open. But I’m very observant and intuitive about their intolerances and ignorance. Additionally, most of my coworkers have confided criticism about each of my other coworkers at one time or another. I’ve even heard some gossip about myself. Madness I tell you.

So now I’m in a funk and annoyed and hate them all. This too shall pass. But I won’t be sharing anything else with these bitches. Trust.

You sound exactly how I used to be when I worked with other people - and with good reason. Of course the one good thing about busy bodies is that they bore easily and will be on to bothering someone else in a hot minute.

Sounds like how it is here in Hell. I’ve always came to work just to work. Fatty Fat Fat Fat just walked up to me asking me if I can come into work an hour early for the Christmas party. Will I come in early? Sure. Am I going to the party. Hell fucking no. I hope Loverboy can get through all of this alright. And you as well.

Michelle: I have often said if you give me a pile of work and place me in an office by myself with a CD player, I’d be happy. I envy your setup. Truly.

karsh: I would’ve sucked my teeth and said: “Ooooh. You should’ve asked me earlier. I already made plans right before work. Sorry.”

Even though I have chosen to keep much of my personal life private, I am fortunate in that my place of employment is very gay-friendly (hell, our Executive Director is a lesbian), so we are not forced to hide who we are to placate intolerant people. I have also decided that at this point in my life I refuse to work in any place that would force me to do so. Now that I have been forced back to the job market, a company’s anti-discrimination policies and overall work environment are non-negotiable conditions of employment.

To be clear, I don’t have to keep private about my orientation (whatever it is) I choose to. There are at least four out (white) gay men on the floor including my supervisor and my director. And did I mention my manager is a mother hen to all the gay boys?

But as I told Loverboy, I don’t have a desire to be in that group. Best I can tell, I have very little in common with them as I have attended various clubs, plays, concerts and festivals with a gay bent and have never run into any of them. To suddenly be “one of the gang” and to have people speak to me on a more personal level (“How’s Loverboy”) because they think they have “figured me out” is not one of my goals. I’ve no doubt that they strongly suspect. But I don’t feel obligated to corroborate or negate their suspicions.

I have a coworker who shares all the ups and downs she has in her life. The outcome: People appear genuine and sympathetic until she leaves the floor and then they criticize her decisions and the way she lives. I don’t have time for it. I admit to being a bit extreme about it but ultimately, this isn’t a “gay” thing, it’s a “privacy” thing.

I’m not in the closet at work, either. Most of my bosses and co-workers happen to know my girlfriend, or at least know who she is. I don’t know if that’s because we work in somewhat-related departments and the people from her dept. mix with the folks from mine. There’s even a girl, that even when I tell her that I have a girlfriend, I think that she thinks it means “friend who is a girl.” I just laugh, because it’s funny. Either way, I don’t feel obliged to shove my gay button in her face.

There are a couple of people who I’m cooler with than I am with the rest of my coworkers, but even then, I don’t really tell them anything, either. It takes time for you to move beyond just a coworker to a friend in my world. Until then, I like to keep my ish separate. You don’t need to know when I got laid, how I got laid, how much money I owe the phone company, and all that. All you need to know is that I’m on point on the job!

I’d agree with j. that it’s not a “gay” thing; even if I were straight, I’d still want people out of my personal business and space. It is a privacy thing. It gives me the heebie jeebies to think that people from work know too much about me.

And oh…I’m sorry to hear about Loverboy’s car break-in.

I sometimes think that people have an idea, but if I’m there to help them with the stuff that they need to do their job, then they should leave me alone.

But I’m with Anitra and J. You don’t need to know any of my business. Privacy is essential.

Poor Loverboy. I used to have the same problem with leaving important stuff in the car, but then my car was stolen. Problem solved.

There are days that I hate working at home and I miss being around people. After reading your post, I’m remembering the bullshit that comes along with it and appreciating my situation all the more.

You need a hug?

Thanks Elle. I’m better now. Besides, Loverboy just had a teddy bear and a red rose delivered and I am tickled pink because my team is dying to know who sent them but afraid to ask me. *whistles*

You raced over with hugs and kisses and starting putting things back in order?

You were raised RIGHT.

P.S. You’re sexy when you’re annoyed.

Personal info on the brotherwub is like gold, you know that! of course they all jumped on your biz like vultures! and what petty biz it was. why do they even care? ick. “hi” and “bye” to these folks from now on.