I’m bored of my job – even though it’s the one I always wanted. Isn’t that the worst? You finally have the job you’ve waited for and now there’s nowhere to go and you come to the sinking realization that you’re still not happy – and probably won’t ever be happy.
What’s my job entail? Making memes at a bonafide media corporation whose name I won’t mention (but assume it’s the Vogue of the media world). Not only is it creative, but I’m paid well. It doesn’t matter though because shit still gets repetitive and I’m bored.
My best friend is an addict. We’re not talking right now. We usually stop talking once a month – after I get to a point where I’m tired of her being late, crying during our sleepovers and forgetting to pay me back. I usually send her five scathing texts in a row until she calls me crazy (the audacity, right?).
She’s in the same job she’s had for three years and instead of getting promoted, she’s been demoted – now she’s on hourly. It doesn’t help that she once told a coworker that she’d stab her in the neck with a fork (in her defense, she was told this certain coworker called her an ugly troll).
It also doesn’t help that she goes to work strung out every few days.
We recently went to a bar in her neighborhood. When we walked in the waiter asked us if we were going to “behave ourselves.” At the bar she asked me if I heard him. “Yea, I just thought it was a bad pick-up line.”
“No,” she hissed.
“Something happened last time I was here.”
After a few drinks we worked up the nerve to bring the waiter over and ask why he made the comment. He asked if she remembered him.
She lied and said yes.
“Well then do you remember what you said to me?”
“No. I’m sorry, I don’t.” She looked at the ground.
He wiped his hands on his pants.
“You asked me for coke and told me you’d suck my dick in the bathroom.”
Then there’s the issue with her apartment. She lives in a walk-up on West 85th.
She’s had four different roommates and her shower water only has one temperature –scalding. She once threw a glass handle of vodka down three flights of steps into the entrance foyer.
This was during that time she let a one-night stand live with her for three weeks. He ended up leaving after she found condoms in his guitar case – she doesn’t use condoms. He said that someone threw them in there while he was performing on the subway.
I hate going over there. It’s dark and dirty and she never has any clean dishes. She does have amazing jewelry and some good clothes. But she really never lets me borrow anything. Did I mention that she’s rich? We’ll talk about that next time.
I wish I could talk to her right now because I’m so bored.
I’m trying to make new friends, but the only person reaching out to me is this girl Kiki. We used to work together at my last job, but she annoyed me even then. Now that I’m lonely and bored, I entertain her and sometimes meet up with her – she doesn’t drink anymore though, she says it’s for health reasons but we all know it’s to lose weight, so I always end up feeling weird and getting drunk around her – but I have to because she talks so much about herself.
This is how our last text conversation went:
Kiki: Where have you been all my life?
Me: Waiting for you (give me a break, I’m trying to make friends)
Kiki: Be my valentine?
Me: Always. (ugh, I hate myself)
Kiki: <3 <3 <3
Me: How are you?
Kiki: Ugh, miserable on the inside and pretending everything is fabulous on the outside. So I’m basically Coco Chanel. <–The first one.
Me: Best way girl. I stand by that.
Kiki: I’m thinking I’m gonna do this freelance thing for awhile.
Kiki: I’m writing for some pretty dope places.<– No. 2
Me: That’s awesome!
Kiki: If only I weren’t so poor.
Kiki: It’s fine. Dan Moneybags Whatkins and baby me (if you didn’t pick up on this, she’s talking about her boyfriend – who isn’t rich – I Linkedin him. He’s an “entrepreneur” and they live in a studio on Avenue D) <– No 3
Me: You got this. Honestly, I relied on Jack for a bit (my boyfriend, but we’ll get to that later).
Me: Just follow your gut, do what feels right.
Kiki: So far it’s picked up fast! Teen Vogue has two more assignments and Elle just gave me more…and Men’s Journal. <– No. 4
Kiki: It’s kinda baller <– No. 5
Me: That’s awesome! Congrats!
Kiki: Yea, I have more work then a fulltime job! <– No. 5.5
Me: Oh yea, that’ll happen.
Kiki: Yea I love it. I went to fashion week and sat across from Paris Hilton. And then I went to the gym. It was fabulous! <–No 6.
Kiki: Anyway, enough of my shit pretending to be cool. I’m leaving for Chicago tomorrow but let’s hang out when I’m back.
Me: Yes, sounds good! (Why? YOU IDIOT!)
Kiki: Also, getting paid by editors is the worst.
Me: The worst .
Kiki: Anyway. How’s _____
This is when she finally decides to be a normal human and ask someone else what they’re doing. I’m so annoyed at this point I give her a one word answer then tell her I have to finish watching Damages on Netflix.
So here I am, bored at work. Bored enough to write shit about the few “friends” I have until they read it and probably won’t talk to me again. But then I’ll just hit them with my favorite Anne Lamott quote, “If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”