The downward spiral continues.

Demotion happened; got suspended from work on Friday for an unrelated matter. Expected it but have had it with all of them. I was to take the day to “reflect” but to “not mull over it.” What the fuck?

The following is “borrowed” from Tiffany’s blogger, from March 26, inspired by yours truly:

“You know what bugs me? It really really bothers me when someone is told that a decision is their call, because they’re the expert and this is what they were hired for… and then when that person makes the call, drawing on his or her own expertise, doing his or her job, the person gets called on the carpet for not consulting with their superiors first. Not for the quality of the decision that was made, but for not being dependent on the same boss who just empowered them to make the decision.

I work in a place like that. You’re free to make decisions that come under your jurisdiction, as long as you always make the decision that The Doc would have made in your place. So just in case, you should always check with her just to make sure that she agrees with your decision before you make it.

The Doc has this insatiable Need To Know about what’s going on. She says she doesn’t like to get bogged down in “the minutiae,” as she calls it, but heaven forbid you make a decision that she disagrees with, even about something relatively minor.

I think that’s what makes the agency such a weird place to work. They talk a good game about being a team, and about staff-empowerment, but when it gets right down to it, it’s The Doc’s show, and everyone else just carries out her micro-management.“

Sums it up very well.

Went out “power tag-team knicker shopping” with Leslie and Tiff last night. We bought loads of guchies at Marshall’s in Waterworks. Tiff defines it as such on today’s blog:

“Power Tag-Team Knicker Shopping n. The act of shopping for underwear, especially scandalous underwear, in the context of a group of two or more women. Characterized by assorted ravings about the state of the women’s underwear industry (“Why does all the fun underwear have to be so uncomfortable?”) and the repeated encouragement of members of the shopping party to buy more and more ridiculous underwear because, “Oh, it’s SO you!” Usually preceded by the consumption of alcohol.”

Knicker shopping was most pleasant for me, because it was most happily interrupted by a call from Brat.

I love that voice. I closed my eyes and just listened to him. And for the 10 minutes that we were on the line, I felt wonderful. I guess I was thinking how nice it would be to hear that voice more often.

I had left him a message on Thursday to announce my suspension. He had joked with me before the decision was made that he hoped I would get suspended, so he wouldn’t feel so lonely (he’s been suspended twice, for stupid shit, if I may say so myself). I left the message that he’s not alone anymore – we’re in the same boat, and it’s sinking. In the same message, I’d also wished him good luck in his golf tournament (alas, we both had the day off!).

When he called, he asked how I was doing. I thought that was sweet. (He knows how it feels to be out of work, not even by our own choice.) I was also glad that he wanted to meet Leslie (it could be for the fact that I’d remarked that he never comes out when I ask him to), because I’d made it clear to him that she wanted to meet him.

He ended up meeting us for drinks after guchie-shopping. The girls got tired and I drove them back to their cars around 10:30. Came back because basically we’d told him to wait for me. I ordered a drink, but he wasn’t drinking. I could tell he was tired, and I knew he’d been on the golf course all day. I drank half my beer and suggested we go.

Outside, I regret to say that nothing happened, not even a hug, which was all I was really hoping for, anyway. We talked and parted ways. I cried half the way home. I wouldn’t let the tears fall, though, and if I hadn’t had anything to drink, I don’t know if they would have come at all.

I am certain that I have done everything, or at least, almost everything, to let him know that I am still interested. Therefore, I am left to believe that either 1. he’s still interested but doesn’t know how/if to proceed from here, or 2. he doesn’t feel the same and hopes I don’t push him.

I want to push him. I want to pull him, rather, back to me. I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a one-nighter (been there, done that); I was hoping to hold him and to maybe have him kiss me goodnight. That’s all I need from him, to keep me going. All I want is a sign that he can love me like I think he can. I want a sign that all my waiting has not been in vain.

Granted, one can argue that when I was with Jeff, I certainly wasn’t waiting. But I was biding my time, and anyone who knows me is well aware that Brat was always in my heart.

At any rate, I’ve been loving (or something close to it) Brat from afar for many, many months. And last night, I guess I was hoping that with the whole “director” specter having been lifted with my voluntary demotion, that maybe we could start the ball rolling toward something greater. But I need his friendship right now, too, and that’s why I didn’t just grab him and ask him what our future is.

My heart keeps telling me to hold on, to be patient, because the best is yet to come. Perhaps I am once again entering Denial; maybe I am deluding myself, just to having something to hold on to. I guess I want to give him the benefit of the doubt on this one; that maybe he’s young and unsure and not ready for a relationship. (Rather than facing the possibility that he might just not want a relationship with me.) I do remember an old conversation we’d had with CTL, that why would any woman want to get involved with him, when he has his parents to take care of? (It had taken all the strength within me to bite my tongue and say that I will take the whole package, just to have him).

Speaking of CTL, well, the propositions continue. He’s so sweet, and would probably be a great guy for me, but well, it isn’t going to happen. He tries so hard, and it is endearing, in a way. But his attempts have made me more cautious about my own dealings with Brat – I am aware of how quickly it can push somebody away if you try too hard to yank them close to you. I take comfort in the fact that CTL and I have a friendship, which is all I need from him. He lets me know that he’s always here if I change my mind, which makes me wonder if he’s just staying friends with me in the hope that I have a change of heart. But that can’t happen until two things occur: 1. I officially give up on Brat, and 2. CTL breaks up with his girlfriend (yeah, he’s all talk, ‘cuz he claims to be miserable yet he stays).

My guess, with Brat, is that if he doesn’t make a move by my birthday (that gives him two months), then this will never work. Lying in bed on that cold October night, discussing the fact that what we were doing was wrong (his words) because I was a director, has never left my mind. I remember lying next to him, kissing his shoulder, with him holding my hand, and I recall how sick and sad and desperate I felt, that he was leaving me there because of my position at work. Was it an excuse then? I’d asked if it was me, not work, and he’d said no. So let’s assume that was the case – I’m not a director anymore. In fact, I just got my “administrator” business cards, and I gave him the first one (and let him know that he was the first). It’s not that he needs my business card for any purpose – I simply wanted to show him that the big, scary title has gone away, and now it’s literally in his hands what happens next.

And I hope it’s something.

I thanked him for coming out with us. It meant a lot to me that he did that. We’re a lot more alike than we ever dreamed possible. I just hope that the road to freedom leads us out of ASCI and into each other’s arms. And I hope if it can happen, it happens soon.

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