"Give me my Barbies! I'm going home!"
The drive home to get ready for "Art Against AIDS" seemed to take forever. I finally made it to our house. Greg was still at home and in his bathroom. I walked in and was greeted with his usual "Hey." I explained that no matter what I said that week about moving out, I needed him that evening. He was bewildered by my sense of urgency but agreed.
I showered and dressed wearing an ill-advised beret' (no laughing David), God I'll never live down THAT fashion faux pax. Greg and I arrived at the event. I was in awe how everything came together. I had no false pretense knowing full well that I was responsible for maybe a quarter of what was in front of me. My boss quickly approached me with: "love the beret' " (liar) and: "There are not enough plastic cocktail glasses." This was of course HER responsibility but yet another failure she would blame on me. I quickly snapped back: "However all this plays out this evening, I'm not holding my mouth. The cups were YOUR responsibilty and as I see it right now, it's YOUR problem. Me and my beret' hauled ass to the silent auction area. The space was incredible. The volunteers did an incredible job. "Meg" was in her element and we exchanged an amicable "Hello."
No matter where I was that night, I found myself looking for Greg. I was in love with him more than ever and yet found myself playing this ridiculous game of throwing threats of moving out to get his attention. Greg remained true to his word and found me many times during the evening in between duty. He even remarked it was one of the best set-ups he had ever seen at the event.
Later that evening, the silent auction was coming to a close. There were several donated "Christopher Radko" glass ornaments up for bidding. It was 11 p.m. and all auctions were closed, yet several people continued to write bids on the ornaments. A bidder approached me and complained she had won at the hammer but people were coming behind and out bidding her. She had the bid sheet in her hand. I quickly went to the ornament table and picked up all the bid sheets to stop the "Radko" mayhem. "Meg" came stormimg toward me: "Who told you to pick those up? This is all my responsibility and if something goes wrong, I'll be held accountable." Time for another respect check:
"Meg, okay, you missed the "something gone wrong" part about 15 minutes ago. Folks were bidding after the close and as COORDINATOR OF SPECIAL EVENTS of this organization, I did what I felt was right to protect the winners as someone complained. You will never speak to me like that again, and if I have my way, this will be your last "Art Against AIDS."
My useless boss (I'll call her "Useless") heard the exchange and pulled me aside. "Actually, this maybe your last "Art Against AIDS. You are never to speak to a volunteer in that manner." I had it with "Useless" as well. I shot back: "You know "Useless", you showed up here this morning for an hour and disappeared. I could not reach you at the office or on your cell phone. I took charge out there when some came to me and complained. People giving money to this organization come first before some ego-driven, control freak volunteer." "We'll talk about this Monday." she replied.
It was done and so was I. It was 2 a.m. and our Human Resources Director Rick drove me home as Greg was long gone. As we drove he asked If I was okay. I told him I was fine just frustrated with all the bullshit. He disagreed and said that I was a completely different person since the surgery. He softened his tone: "Matt, I've been there, I almost died a few years ago and I see you living out the exact emotional cycle. You're all over the place. You need help." I was shocked. We arrived at my house and he kissed me on the cheek. I thanked him for the ride and the advice. As he drove off, I began to cry still wearing my beret'.
I had the weekend off and told Greg the next morning what Rick said to me in the car. "Well, you're seeing somebody, aren't you?" Greg replied. "Nothing is helping me" I said. "I'm not comfortable in my own skin." Greg could only reply with "I don't know what to tell you." The story of my life.
I arrived at NO/AIDS on Monday. I was told by my boss that we had to pick up the remaining stuff at the venue and bring it back here. She was supposed to have secured a small moving truck for this so we could do it in a couple of trips. She decided on her own that we could forgo the expense and just use my Ford Ranger and make several trips. I was beyond fighting. Suddenly everyone forgot that I had back surgery and we were on our way.
The next morning my boss stuck her head in my office and said: "Don't think I've forgotten our little talk about how you spoke to Meg. I've asked the Executive Director to meet with us about your behavior." She ended the sentence with a big, in your face, grin. That was my boss, the person everyone warned me about. A fund development director, who in a period of year, had been though four "events coordinators."
My office phone rang. It was the hospice that took in "Louie." The nurse caring for him had called me a few times in the past weeks stressing Louie needed visits as he had no family. "Art Against AIDS" kept me so busy, I just couldn't find the time. "Hi Matthew" she said. "I was calling to inform you that "Louie" passed this morning." I began to cry. She assured me "he passed peacefully in his sleep and was better off." She thanked me for the times I called and checked on him. I was still crying when I hung up the phone and suddenly it hit me: none of this petty, tit for tat, bullshit mattered. I began to pack my office.
My boss passed again and asked what I was doing. I told her to come in and close the door. I told her that I could not work for her anymore. I went further to say she was divisive and a liar and clearly had an agenda to get me out the door. She started to cry: "Don't go. We were not going to fire you." "They'll think you quit because of me." I told her: "They would be right." She went further: "We just need to sit down and talk about fairly dividing our reponsiblities. Don't quit." "No. I need to leave NOW" I said. It took only one trip to get my boxes home.
When I got home, I saw the "buffalo nickel" I had set aside when I washed Louie's clothes. I went to a locksmith and had them put a hole in the top of the coin so I could put it on my keychain. It is still there today, always as a reminder of the man who taught me the real meaning of giving.
I showered and dressed wearing an ill-advised beret' (no laughing David), God I'll never live down THAT fashion faux pax. Greg and I arrived at the event. I was in awe how everything came together. I had no false pretense knowing full well that I was responsible for maybe a quarter of what was in front of me. My boss quickly approached me with: "love the beret' " (liar) and: "There are not enough plastic cocktail glasses." This was of course HER responsibility but yet another failure she would blame on me. I quickly snapped back: "However all this plays out this evening, I'm not holding my mouth. The cups were YOUR responsibilty and as I see it right now, it's YOUR problem. Me and my beret' hauled ass to the silent auction area. The space was incredible. The volunteers did an incredible job. "Meg" was in her element and we exchanged an amicable "Hello."
No matter where I was that night, I found myself looking for Greg. I was in love with him more than ever and yet found myself playing this ridiculous game of throwing threats of moving out to get his attention. Greg remained true to his word and found me many times during the evening in between duty. He even remarked it was one of the best set-ups he had ever seen at the event.
Later that evening, the silent auction was coming to a close. There were several donated "Christopher Radko" glass ornaments up for bidding. It was 11 p.m. and all auctions were closed, yet several people continued to write bids on the ornaments. A bidder approached me and complained she had won at the hammer but people were coming behind and out bidding her. She had the bid sheet in her hand. I quickly went to the ornament table and picked up all the bid sheets to stop the "Radko" mayhem. "Meg" came stormimg toward me: "Who told you to pick those up? This is all my responsibility and if something goes wrong, I'll be held accountable." Time for another respect check:
"Meg, okay, you missed the "something gone wrong" part about 15 minutes ago. Folks were bidding after the close and as COORDINATOR OF SPECIAL EVENTS of this organization, I did what I felt was right to protect the winners as someone complained. You will never speak to me like that again, and if I have my way, this will be your last "Art Against AIDS."
My useless boss (I'll call her "Useless") heard the exchange and pulled me aside. "Actually, this maybe your last "Art Against AIDS. You are never to speak to a volunteer in that manner." I had it with "Useless" as well. I shot back: "You know "Useless", you showed up here this morning for an hour and disappeared. I could not reach you at the office or on your cell phone. I took charge out there when some came to me and complained. People giving money to this organization come first before some ego-driven, control freak volunteer." "We'll talk about this Monday." she replied.
It was done and so was I. It was 2 a.m. and our Human Resources Director Rick drove me home as Greg was long gone. As we drove he asked If I was okay. I told him I was fine just frustrated with all the bullshit. He disagreed and said that I was a completely different person since the surgery. He softened his tone: "Matt, I've been there, I almost died a few years ago and I see you living out the exact emotional cycle. You're all over the place. You need help." I was shocked. We arrived at my house and he kissed me on the cheek. I thanked him for the ride and the advice. As he drove off, I began to cry still wearing my beret'.
I had the weekend off and told Greg the next morning what Rick said to me in the car. "Well, you're seeing somebody, aren't you?" Greg replied. "Nothing is helping me" I said. "I'm not comfortable in my own skin." Greg could only reply with "I don't know what to tell you." The story of my life.
I arrived at NO/AIDS on Monday. I was told by my boss that we had to pick up the remaining stuff at the venue and bring it back here. She was supposed to have secured a small moving truck for this so we could do it in a couple of trips. She decided on her own that we could forgo the expense and just use my Ford Ranger and make several trips. I was beyond fighting. Suddenly everyone forgot that I had back surgery and we were on our way.
The next morning my boss stuck her head in my office and said: "Don't think I've forgotten our little talk about how you spoke to Meg. I've asked the Executive Director to meet with us about your behavior." She ended the sentence with a big, in your face, grin. That was my boss, the person everyone warned me about. A fund development director, who in a period of year, had been though four "events coordinators."
My office phone rang. It was the hospice that took in "Louie." The nurse caring for him had called me a few times in the past weeks stressing Louie needed visits as he had no family. "Art Against AIDS" kept me so busy, I just couldn't find the time. "Hi Matthew" she said. "I was calling to inform you that "Louie" passed this morning." I began to cry. She assured me "he passed peacefully in his sleep and was better off." She thanked me for the times I called and checked on him. I was still crying when I hung up the phone and suddenly it hit me: none of this petty, tit for tat, bullshit mattered. I began to pack my office.
My boss passed again and asked what I was doing. I told her to come in and close the door. I told her that I could not work for her anymore. I went further to say she was divisive and a liar and clearly had an agenda to get me out the door. She started to cry: "Don't go. We were not going to fire you." "They'll think you quit because of me." I told her: "They would be right." She went further: "We just need to sit down and talk about fairly dividing our reponsiblities. Don't quit." "No. I need to leave NOW" I said. It took only one trip to get my boxes home.
When I got home, I saw the "buffalo nickel" I had set aside when I washed Louie's clothes. I went to a locksmith and had them put a hole in the top of the coin so I could put it on my keychain. It is still there today, always as a reminder of the man who taught me the real meaning of giving.
posted by Matthew Cortez at 10/23/2005 09:12:00 AM
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