Caterwauling

I got this idea from Kelly, who said that I’m on her board of directors.

One of the few trusted advisers who know what she’s up to. Who are often consulted for major life decisions.

I brought my board together when I was Tokyo-bound.

Half the board, I was going to be on a plane with. (Cousin, cousin’s husband, and their kiddo.)

So, I did a separate group chat with the other half of the board. K, C and S.

I figured they’d all become friendly. But the dynamics were so weird.

K would go to our 1-on-1 chat to talk about the stuff I shared with the board.

C made his jokes that most people don’t get or want to get. So the others didn’t touch those.

S made a couple comments that I totally understood but were wide open to interpretation otherwise.

I figured if I croaked or something, they could all rally to collect my assets and hide the bodies.

Or at least help to get me out of the damn country when everything was going wrong those first few days.

Once I got home, I sent a final text from a sushi buffet in Boca Raton. And no one’s used the chat since.

Honestly, I haven’t talked to any of them since.

I mean, I got to spend time with K. here in Boca.

But I have no interest in texting anyone.

Or replying to emails, unfortunately, which means I am way behind at work — a crisis of my own making, of course.

I still don’t have a full accounting of my assets. Or beneficiaries not named Wobin, who I hope can use some cash (and yen) in the afterlife. Shit I still haven’t done last year’s taxes.

I really don’t want to leave The Board with those responsibilities. But maybe I need a board member to help me solve that shit now.

Which … that’s Kelly.

Maybe I’ll set a little goal to solve some of this shit before I see her again next month.

I heard Noah Kahan’s “The Great Divide” on SNL.

Honestly it’s a variant of Dawes’ “All Your Favorite Bands” to me.

But there’s always room for two great songs in my world.

“You know I think about you all the time
And my deep misunderstanding of your life
And how bad it must have been for you back then
And how hard it was to keep it all inside.

I hope you s?ttle down, I hope you marry rich
I hope you’re scared of only ordinary shit.
Like murderers and ghosts and cancer on your skin
And not your soul and what He might do with it.”

I think of my grandmother who, despite being let down repeatedly by the Catholic Church, wanted to be buried with her rosary beads.

I think of my mom, who I thought I understood until I had to live without her.

Back then, I sometimes (often) thought she didn’t have the life experience to weigh in on some of the shit that was vexing me.

Truth always was, she had an incredible way of interpreting things from outside of them.

Yet she never realized her own value. So maybe that’s why I didn’t always see it, either.

“They only shoot the birds who cannot sing
And I’m finally aware of how shitty and unfair
It was to stare ahead like everything was fine.”

She could “sing” just fine.

But no one — doctors, dentists, men, maybe even her own parents — listened.

“Did you wish that I could know
You’d fade
To some place
I wasn’t brave enough to go?”

I listened more than most.

I really did believe in her more than she ever did herself.

I still wait for her to come back to me like she promised.

To this day, I remain stunned that she hasn’t yet found her way back.

Or at least that I can’t pick up on it if she has.

I have an annoying bug buzzing around my house and it made me think of my meeting yesterday.

As usual, I got through it and was useless the rest of the day.

I am always cheerful and gracious. Then I short-circuit.

I did a thing this week. That’s how I phrased it to the 40 people in Teams that I sent it to. “I did a thing.”

I was kinda proud of it.

People loved it.

Boss had seen it and, while I would never in a million years expect a good job or a thank you for this or anything, he didn’t like it.

Said I got it wrong. That xx is true, not what I said.

I said OK I see your perspective. Thank you for giving me perspective, as it helps me with how to approach you in the future.

Like he did me a huge favor.

< / Carolyn >

I sincerely do not lose sleep over stuff like this.

But I did mention to the two people who loved The Thing most … hey, this guy said I missed the mark, so I guess don’t take it as any sort of gospel.

I won’t share their replies.

But I will say my own thoughts after seeing this fly annoy my cats.

Which is A) I would get a lot fewer customer emails if the statement I heard were true. And B) one of us has done this very job for 25 years.

There aren’t a lot of “me”s in the field anymore.

Most got promoted beyond their abilities.

Some went to jail or, at least, have years of litigation behind and/or ahead of them.

The rest said fuck it and changed fields, had babies, otherwise ran the other way.

So, as an OG who hasn’t gotten promoted beyond her abilities (or promoted, really), and as someone who spent a couple days with our customers, I’m going to respectfully continue to do me.

I would imagine anyone reads this and thinks I’m angry or unhappy, and I’m not.

Honestly I love being the age and confidence level I’m at.

I used to have a momma who would let me tell the stories 400 times. And every time, she’d say fuck them for being mean to her baby. Because her baby is “Dawnie smart fart.”

I’ll never hear that again with my ears.

But I still hear it with my heart.

And I thank the universe every day for giving me a momma who made sure the tapes that will replay in my head for the rest of my life are ones that reaffirm my awesomeness.

In place of words I hear that are just plain wrong sometimes.

We have a bit of a dead parents club in my department.

Two years ago, we all lost at least one parent or grandparent.

A couple of us are orphans.

Funny enough, my staffers who are older than me have at least one living parent.

In any event, my mom used to be the dorm mom … the friend group mom … the adult friend group mom … everyone’s bonus mom on Facebook … and yes, the work mom.

I still remember how thrilled they all were when she’d send baked goods to the office.

It’s weird that my mom isn’t the team mom anymore. I can’t fucking believe it, really. How is she not here?!

Carolyn is the one I’d consider to be the team mom these days.

Lumpy is the team cat, too. Replacing Belly, who used to join every meeting. But Belly says fuck this meeting shit. Meanwhile, Lumpy loves her daddy so much, she will tolerate our shit.

In any event, Carolyn has always had good motherly advice for us. Especially when handling difficult people.

Today I was texting Carolyn’s child about a situation I was in earlier and how I handled it.

I punctuated it with < / carolyn >.

I miss having my mom here to help me with how to handle people who throw off more mixed signals than an intersection that serves the Brightline, freight line, pedestrians and car traffic.

But it’s nice to know I can borrow Carolyn for these days when people who don’t have my same 25 years of experience have something to say about my outlook on the world where I learned from every damn hard knock that concussed me.

Ever since I found out my college friend Jason passed unexpectedly, I’ve gone a little cuckoo.

A lot cuckoo. He was a month older than me.

I have a photo of my own J. on my altar.

I haven’t spoken of her death to anyone, save for an accidental slip that I didn’t know would be shared with the Point Park J&C graduating class of 1996.

Two people reached out — one was Jason’s longtime partner.

I reached out to her a couple times. Every time, I say you don’t need to respond if you don’t want to. Just wanted to say I’m thinking about you both.

She did just respond to the latest message, and we had a good little chat. One that’s left a permanent lump in my throat.

But I got past that lump to share my own loss with two others who deserved to know. Two fellow members of the J&C graduating class of 1996.

Two years after our J. passed.

I don’t want to claim it felt good to say it.

But, I also can’t say it didn’t.

I don’t have all the details, which is honestly helpful.

Just that our girl fell on some hard times that she didn’t tell anyone about.

One day, she was gone.

And I’ve protected her so fiercely that I realize I’ve kept people who loved her from mourning and remembering her, as she would deserve.

My friends were gracious. Very sad. Recalled her quite fondly.

Something else unexpected happened.

The one friend (another J!) said you know, Dawn, grief is such a part of your world, with everyone you’ve lost. No wonder you held this one so close to you for so long. You just made it real to you.

This girl always acted spacey. But I always had a feeling she didn’t miss a damn thing. I see my instincts were absolutely spot on.

I said thank you and raise a glass to our girl and let me know if you need anything — and I mean ANYTHING — because she didn’t and I didn’t even offer, for the invitation to even be there.

I’ve had a lot of brilliant thoughts about all this that I failed to write down.

Mostly that we all haven’t laid eyes on each other in 30 years, but we can teleport back to the days of sitting on J.’s dorm bed with the concrete risers in two seconds or less.

Burdens really can be lighter when they’re shared. Even though the weight isn’t equally distributed.

OK there’s my brilliant thought for today.

Someone said that to me recently, and while it isn’t 100% me, it’s not exactly a zero chance of rain. At least a chance of a shower.

I’m back in my panic mode, having had a week in Tokyo, then jet lag, then company event/fambly reunions, then covering as my staff took well deserved days off.

My boss called me on a day when I had canceled the meeting.

I was a hot mess, not expecting a call. My laptop wouldn’t cooperate, either, another sign.

Like, I can count on one finger how many times our scheduled meeting happened on schedule.

It was the day I canceled it.

Anyway I’ve made no progress on any of the 11 items he wanted an update on.

Just in time for my next meeting, in a few hours.

Here’s hoping this one falls out of everyone’s mind.

It’s not that I don’t want to do these things. Trust me I love when people have no reason to be looking for me.

But it’s so different from the Martin years.

Martin would ask for something. I’d make a cup of coffee and start said project instantly.

Now I’m back on my Brad years bullshit. Like, yeah I’ll do it. When I’m ready.

I know it’s human nature to drag on stuff you don’t really have your heart in.

But when your heart is in affording your next trip, why isn’t that motivation enough?

I mean it’s not like I haven’t done stuff. Just … not that.

What i excel at was the whole company event/fambly reunion stuff.

Talking subscribers off the ledge. Talking my staff of the ledge.

Housing copious amounts of liquor and still functioning.

Not greeting everyone with “You need to” as we all got greeted, but rather giving hugs! and saying thanks for coming! and so good to see you!

And following up on the seven million subscriber and sales team questions … and implementing the suggestions in our content.

Yeah but did I hire five crypto writers? Nope.

Write an employee newsletter? Nuh uh.

Wrote another set of performance reviews which honestly I told the HR lady you might as well make quarterly since 2x a year just isn’t strange enough? Not a chance!

But did I write five newsletters in five days under names that are not mine? Attend more meetings than a new AA member? Fight with our stupid pay stub system that isn’t letting anyone claim their PTO without a Congressional act? Yep.

I am an atheist but these are the days I pray to God. Thursdays, that is.

My drunk ass rolled home sometime after 2 a.m. last night.

Had a fun night with old friends.

A fun week with my team.

Fun previous week with my fam in Tokyo.

Boss surprised me by calling yesterday after I’d canceled our meeting. Fun police.

Anyway I should be working now. But my friends are leaving town tomorrow. And let’s face it, I’d rather hang with them than deal with the laundry list of stuff Boss was asking about.

Or with the laundry list of stuff I won’t even bother telling anyone about. Because it usually takes longer to talk about it than to just do it.

Like no, Dan, we were bowling partners. I was in Tokyo, then jet-lagged, then locked in a ballroom with 500 of our closest colleagues and customers, then a wee bit hungover.

Or as I call it, exhausted from three really good weeks.

My friends want to meet up in another city for my birthday. I already have non-refundable plans. But I’m closing in on a higher status with Marriott, so I can’t imagine they wouldn’t help a sister out.

Good problems to have, all of them.

Humble brag here.

But I did something I always wished someone would have done for me.

We had a conference for the past few days.

I paid for everything for my staff and me.

I mean, just meals and parking. Which … was substantial.

One of our Uber Eats lunches was delivered by a guy in an Alfa Romero, for fuck’s sake.

That’s Boca Raton for you.

Even at dinner last night — as everyone was nervous to order alcohol because Don’t Tread on ME FLIPS THE FUCK OUT if someone has a drink on work time — they were like ok are we splitting this bill four ways.

Like no the fuck we are not.

I said when I was younger, I used to go out with my wealthy colleagues with expensive taste.

While I’d order one appetizer AS my entree … I wouldn’t eat the appetizers ordered for the table … while they’d order bottles of wine while I sipped my water …

They’d go to town and then say great let’s split the bill five ways.

So my $12 calamari was suddenly $76.

I remember my boss Greg saying to me in the middle of some dumb event at Buca di Beppo, “You should’ve eaten the appetizers; I told you you’d be paying for them.”

Dumb girl. I learned.

So I told my group a very short version of that.

That I didn’t want them to not have a great time. To worry for one second about anything other than being completely present to talk to our customers and teammates.

My Sapphire card is screaming. But hopefully I can get the CFO to approve it without involving the biggest bitch in the whole wide world this year.

Who, anytime she looked at me, barked about me not wearing my lanyard.

It was in CAR since people within 90 miles cannot stay on property and I get flustered at the valet every damn time.

Anyway, this all unlocked such a core memory of going out to eat, lowering the cost basis of rich people’s meals, and yet still starving.

I don’t want my people to feel that way, ever.

Though I pay them all better than I was paid.

And frankly they are worth a whole lot more.

A WHOLE lot more.

I just wish someone had felt that way about me.

But all I can do is correct history. And in doing so, not perpetuate trauma into the next generation.

That particular trauma, anyway.

We’re in the middle of the annual Fambly Reunion at work.

It’s mostly joyous. Mostly awesome people. A few who should have stayed home.

I remember getting a very frustrated/frustrating letter from one. I remember typing my response.

That person has shown the letter to no fewer than 47 people, in frustration.

I wrote it in frustration. Like literally you asked a question about 2024 and you are unsatisfied with the answer in 2026.

What people do is isolate 14 of us, then get mad when the answer is 14x “sorry you are mad but what exactly do you want” and they can’t tell us.

I figure they want us to say we were wrong, we screwed up, here’s some money.

I don’t know. I gave the guy a good bar recommendation last night. Here’s hoping he forgives all. I doubt it but his wife is lovely so he can’t be all bad.

Speaking of the opposite, man did I have a weird dream last night.

Dreamed about an old affair. I guess remembering a more recent one messed up my little girl brain.

“Lilac short skirt, the one that fits me like skin
Did your research, you knew the price goin’ in
And I’ll tell you one thing, honey
I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean
Standin’ at the bar like something’s funny, bubbly
Once you fix your face, I’m goin’ in.”

Dreamed I ran into someone from my long LONG ago past. Still married. Still somehow had little kids.

We weren’t doing anything wrong at all, just coexisting. Having a coffee. Taking the kids on a drive.

We never DID anything wrong. Just coexisted. Had coffee. Had drinks. Had exactly one conversation about what we felt, and that was the day it ended.

The dream felt easy. Muscle memory kicked right in.

The wife (a doctor) saw me for some medical problem. Put me in a taxi with him. Then told the cabbie to floor it over a cliff.

I watched the final scene outside my body, seeing me (with pink hair) in the cab, screaming.

I’d say I don’t know where any of this came from, but I do.

Y’all if I’d ever actually wielded my power, I would have been dangerous.

And who’s to say I won’t still test that theory.

“You’ll find that you were never not mine.”