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By the time I hit my four year mark, I was miserable. Scott refused to let me go and work for George arguing that George didn’t generate enough work to warrant having me all to himself. And since Scott had Tim’s ear on everything, nobody ever messed with him. It was frustrating to watch that little man assert his power when I knew he really didn’t have any. At the end of the day, he was Tim’s lackey. We all knew it; yet no one could do a damn thing about it.
It was no secret that I wanted to get out of that corner altogether. This didn’t help my relationship with Gina who had cooled toward me considerably. I knew it was jealousy. She too, was miserable but didn’t have the balls to ask for a transfer. Plus, she was too tied to being Queen Bee of the office and as much as she despised working for Tim, she loved being the one whose butt everyone had to kiss.
My misery put me in a different vibe and I no longer cared about pleasing her. There were no more cartwheels or dramatic imitations. It was business as usual and as each day passed, I tried hard to keep my mouth shut and do my job.
The upside of being so unhappy at work was I had more interest in life outside of the office. When we were kids, my sister and I used to play “pretend.” She always opted for being someone glamorous where I was strangely attracted to playing a bank teller. It seemed so adult and I longed to wear a blue suit and high heels. Working in an office, I suppose, fed that fantasy, though my suits weren’t blue and we’d thankfully gone business casual after my first year.
Taking a job as an assistant made me feel like an adult and as I was actually becoming one, the novelty had started to wear off. As a kid, being a bank teller fascinated me, but it was singing I felt most passionate about. Another long held dream of mine, music was where everything made sense. Working in an office was where I got the paycheck.
During that time, I spent a lot of time dreaming about leaving the corporate world to pursue my music. The tension between me and Gina encouraged me not to stay a minute past five leaving time to focus on singing. I frequented open mic’s around the
singing Sarah MacLachlin and Sheryl Crow covers which eventually led to some shows of my own. East Village
When Scott finally decided to let me go, I could barely hide my excitement as he beckoned me to his office to share the news.
“I’ve decided to let you work for
,” he sniffed. “I’m just too busy to share an assistant and I think it would be better to get someone in here who….” he paused, pretending to choose his words carefully. “….actually likes being an assistant.” Walker
In the three and a half years I worked for Scott, I’d hung up on him – lying that his cell phone was breaking up when I just didn’t want to deal anymore; made fun of him and I’d even been a downright bitch. But, never, until now, did I laugh in his face.
I couldn’t help it. I wanted to but his arrogance and prick-like behavior was downright comical. My laughter was inappropriate and Scott’s pomp turned into discomfort as he quickly adjourned the meeting.
I stumbled out of his office, dizzy from my outburst and giddy with excitement.
I was finally free.