Here’s today’s letter from someone who is probably really attractive because, after all, no one unattractive reads this blog. My readers are like fitness magazines if fitness magazines were mirrors.
I moved back home to Vegas from Los Angeles about 8 months ago to transfer to a better job. I’m gaining valuable professional experience, but my boss is emotionally erratic. There are days when I feel like his therapist. This past week alone I’ve been both yelled at by him and been his shoulder to cry on, literally. Tears. He’s a charismatic figure, and I feel obligated to him for all he’s taught me about our industry. BUT, when I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure our industry is where my passions lie. And, more and more frequently, I’ve been hearing the siren song of Los Angeles calling me back to its awesome weather and amazing concert venues. (On a less superficial note, most of my close friends live there as well, and I miss them.) Is it immature of me to leave a job after such a short amount of time to move back to LA? I’m 31 and wondering – would a grown-up just suck it up and deal with Sir Pops-Valium-A-Lot? Or do grown-ups follow their hearts?
The first question I have to ask is are you a professional baseball player. I saw A League of Their Own and a very drunk Tom Hanks told me there’s no crying in baseball. So if you are a baseball player, you definitely need to GTFO of this situation.
Assuming you are not a ballplayer, here is my advice. Apologies in advance for my feelings on your hometown. Las Vegas is the bathroom. You need the bathroom, but you don’t want to live in the bathroom. Even if it’s a really elaborate and fancy bathroom, like Vegas is. I mean, every now and then, you REALLY need to go and you are glad there’s a toilet nearby (Vegas). You get to the bathroom, you do some narcotics with total strangers who can get you into Marquee, you eat an expensive dinner you forgot you even ate until you are vomiting, look, I get it. We all love the toilet. That said, when you shop for a home, you don’t pick bathroom over bedroom. You are going to spend more time in the bedroom than the bathroom, unless you have an eating disorder in which case you def. need to get advice from a doctor, and not the one who has a bus that gives IVs to people with hangovers (in Vegas, for serious).
You clearly want to come back to the bedroom, Los Angeles. That’s what’s in you. So let’s evaluate why you’d stay?
To work for a dude that cries? I have seen women cry in the office to get out of trouble and I have often thought about how hard I’d get fired for crying in public unless I was walking a dog that got run over by an innocent criminal who was headed for freedom and then he gets arrested and it’s all my fault and the ghost of the dog haunts my mansion with ghost barks all night. Short of that, I need to buck the eff up and tilt my chin up.
This is a dude and this dude is your boss. Guys that cry at the office are usually on something. We hide our feelings, not struggle to contain them. What on earth is the holiday party like? He’s all in a good mood, then vanishes, comes back all emo drunk and requests some early 90s music, then cries and then gets so pissed he flips the table with the chocolate fountain and it gives a waiter a 2nd degree burn on his face and then the dude cries… Again.
Unless this is the opportunity of a lifetime and/or you love being in the bathroom, roll back to LA. Get with your friends out here, maybe steal a Prius so you can sneak up on your dreams in EV mode. Life’s too short to take shit unless that shit is so valuable it’s worth smelling bad for.
If you must stay, I think you should cry in the office and when he gets angry, remind him of when he cried. Or just video tape him crying and when he’s being a shit, tell him “one word – YouTube” which will suck because who wants a crying vid of themself on YouTube and also, it’s weird to think YouTube is one word.
Z-crest, out. Happy Friday.