It’s my first day on the job. The new boss was FINE!!! She was fucking FIERCE!!! I know I use that word a lot… but she was. Her job—she was the Editor-in-Chief. I would be in charge of all that goes with assisting someone at her level. I was in charge of organizing her style book that she would take on trips. The woman even had a clothing budget. Part of my job was to work with the style department and put together these binders with images of all her outfits, the shoes that went with them, the color make up that complimented them, and the accessories. LOVED IT!!! She walked in wearing this white suit… these beautiful pumps, her hair was straight. This B&*%# was bad!!!! We met for a few minutes. She told me she had some meetings but that we would catch up later.
I could finally breathe. It was a brand new day. I could begin again. I was alive again. I could move forward.
She returned to the office and asked me to come in and shut the door. Her office was beautiful. There were paintings everywhere, a couch and large bookshelves. There was a private bathroom. “Alicia, have a seat, what I’m about to share with you can not leave these walls.” I was like ok… awesome… company secrets I’m in.
“They just fucking fired me. I have until the end of the day to gather my things. After being here over ten years they just let me go. There’s a lot I need you to do for me.”
Did she just tell me that she was fired? ON MY FIRST DAY OF WORK! You’re fucking kidding me right? This is a joke! This is a horrible joke! This can’t be happening to me. Where are the hidden cameras?
I spent the day scheduling meetings with her direct reports. She asked for a meeting at the end of the day with the entire editorial team of over 30+ people to say goodbye. I wanted to die. This was so not happening to me. I was moving up… I was moving forward… and now I was moving all of her shit out of her office. I was only kept on in that role until the new publisher came on board and then I would be out of a job because he was bringing his assistant with him. WHAT???????????????????????????
The head of Human Resources told me not to worry about it that they would find something for me but this was just all so fucked up.
“Alicia, we have some great news. We are launching a new magazine. You would be supporting the Editor-in-Chief. Are you interested?”
HELLO!!!! Am I interested? Hell yeahhhhhhhh!!!
The interview went great. I met the EIC and we hit it off. This was her first magazine and role as Editor-in-Chief. She had no experience launching a magazine and was putting together a strong team to launch her baby. I was excited at the potential to write for this magazine. I couldn’t wait to get to know her. I was a part of the editorial meetings. She shared concepts with me. It was so much fun learning the step by step making of a magazine. I was involved in ordering all of the office equipment and décor. I finally felt like I was part of a team.
Ok… I could totally go on and on right now about how glamorous this new job was. Or I can just jump to the truth. This job fucking sucked. After working together for a few months I started asking for more responsibilities. I wanted to write for the magazine. She didn’t respect me. She was horrible to me. She was incredibly disrespectful and condescending. I believe she was a racist. I spent more time ordering shit for her private house parties than doing any real work. Anytime I spoke out on anything it seemed like she had a problem with me. I really believe she had a problem with the fact that I had ideas and thoughts. I think she just wanted some young, fresh, right out of college, newbie, “white girl,” as her assistant. Honestly, I think she picked me because she had to—not because she wanted to. And so as the months went on I continued to take her shit and downloaded all the photos from her camera of her travels, ordered the pizza and cupcakes for her daughter’s birthday party, bought her makeup at Sephora and ordered her lunch everyday.
I was in NYC… my dream come true. Ever since I was 15… when my parents pulled me out Richmond Hill High School to move to Rhode Island all I ever wanted was to return to NYC. And now I knew that I was a writer. The sad thing about that was that once KB died I never wrote again. I was uninspired. Our house was an absolute mess. There were piles and piles of clothes everywhere. We were living in an episode of hoarders. I was so unhappy. I was incredibly depressed. I saw Dr. Kate every week for therapy and Dr. Chan for my medications. I was on all kinds of medications for ADD, antidepressants, pills to help me sleep, pills to get me going. I was drinking a bottle of wine a night. One day you looked at me and said, “Mommy, you always have a glass of wine as soon as we walk in the door. Why?” I don’t even know what I said to you. I probably said something lame like, “I just like to unwind. I have glass once in a while to relax.” When the reality was that I was self medicating and numbing the pain.
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