THE SPY WHO LOVED ME

The reason I lied about my latest job.

This is going to come off sounding very paranoid. Even I thought I was imagining things.

But there's a person in my city who has been contacting people at my various jobs over the last few years and telling them about this website.

I had a feeling it was happening and then I had it confirmed about six months or so ago by a co-worker.

I know who this person is.

I know where she works.

I have no idea why she does this. I'm guessing she's inflicted with the most cowardly form of hatred possible. She's hellbent on alerting my co-workers and bosses about the site in hopes that they'll see it and think "Jeez ... we've got THIS GUY working for us?"

And it's worked for her. She's managed to figure out where I worked (it wasn't THAT tough) and gotten me in trouble and sometimes ... fired.

So when I got canned from the last job, I immediately got another job where I'm working now.

But ... to throw this woman off my trail ... I said I was working in a tux shop.

Because there's really only one widely-known formal shop in our area.

It was my little "Screw You" to this girl. I had a perverse giggle to myself when I first typed the words "Tux Shop" here on this site, because I KNEW this girl would immediately call the tuxedo shop here in town and say "Do you have so-and-so working there? Well ... HE'S UNCLE BOB!!!"

Except when she called the tux shops, they told her I didn't work there.

So ... and I'm only guessing here ... she either kept calling every podunk mom-and-pop tux shop in town and got more and more frustrated or has finally given up on ruining me and my various careers.

I picked a "tux shop" for a few reasons:

The day I was canned from my last job, I checked the want-ads and there was an opening for an assistant manager at a tux shop.

Before I could even apply for the job, I landed my current job.

Plus ... I figured there'd be a world of hilarity in working at a fictional tux shop with a wacky bunch of characters.

Wrong.

Once I got past the "inseam measurement" story and the "getting locked in the bathroom" story there wasn't much hilarity left at the old tux shop.

And ... truthfully ... with the exception of the "inseam measurement", the few stories I told about the "tux shop" were based in reality elsewhere in my life.

I DID get locked in the bathroom on my first day at the new job. It took me a while to figure out how to unlock the door.

And I DO work with a guy who recently won a pretty big prize ... just ... not the lottery.

And he's a much nicer guy than I painted his fictional alter ego to be.

So while many of you feel let down or lied to, I have one thing to say ... buck the fuck up.

I never lied to "hurt" you or "deceive" you. Christ almighty ... get a freakin' life, people.

I lied to screw with one person's head.

And now I'm bored with the lie so that's why I came clean.

If you don't like it ... hey ... leave.

If you think that me lying about working somewhere constitutes me "jumping the shark" ... shit. I jumped the shark YEARS ago, Einstein. Where the hell have YOU been??

I ain't talkin' 'bout it.

Except that I'm working with a bunch of people that I've known for years and years and I absolutely love it.

I haven't been this happy in a job in forever. It's flexible, my bosses are some of the greatest bosses I've had in a long time and I actually know what I'm doing which is refreshing for a change.

But I've learned that I can do this diary without writing about work ... the last job I wrote about in detail was the Piss Boy job ... and my little "spy" even managed to finally track me down there and alert my co-workers about this website.

They were more amused than upset.

To recap:

* Never worked in a tux shop.

* Made up working in a tux shop to drive one single person crazy after she attempted to drive me crazy.

* Got bored with trying to drive her crazy and just don't care anymore.

* Love the real day job that I now have.

* Am not going to be talking about it for the time being.

For the most part, the majority of my readers are good people who are welcome here and I consider friends.

But there's enough assholes out there whose lives are even lamer than mine and are insistant on getting under my skin and/or trying to ruin my life.

I cannot stress enough how I hope those people rot in the depths of hell and have Satan himself use their burnt flesh as his condoms while he screws rabid pitbulls in the ass.

Or something like that.