I knew in my mind that my time with boss-man was winding down. This was getting too weird. I couldn't even stand the smell of his apartment anymore.
For the next few days I tried to conjure up the strength to say, "I quit" to his face. This was a difficult task because it would involve talking to him and looking at him with his un-brushed curly hair and his Carrier polo shirt with coffee stains all over it.
He ordered a bunch of holiday cards to send out to his past and potential clients. He was quite proud of his choice. He took one of the cards out. "Read them," he ordered.
The inside of them read, “Warm Holiday Wishes. From the [Lame Company Name] Family.”
Who the hell was this family? It was just him and… me.
Oh God. I'm a part of the [Lame Company Name] Family!
I don’t to be a part of this family!
I don't want to be a part of a team with this man!
I am out here in Los Angeles to become an actor… or a writer… or a director… or a producer… okay, I came out to L.A. to work in catering, but I did not come out here to be part of the [Lame Company Name] Family!
I want my television debut to be on a Kotex pads commercial and not being interviewed for the news coverage about an L.A. small business owner/failed standup comic that gets a reality show because he made some wisecracks when he was caught by Chris Wallace on To Catch a Predator.
I started breathing heavily. He was looking at me for a response. I opened my mouth.
Say it, Becky. Say you quit. Get the fuck out of there.
"I… like them a lot."
I'm such a pussy.