No, I didn't drop dead, although there have been some days in the last 20 (!) since I blogged previously that I FELT like I could. In short, I've been working like a dog. The Salon moved into Salon2, in a merger type deal, and Dee, my boss, was packing up 15 years of being in her own place and trying to cram it into half the space with Others. In the proccess of all that, I turned into SuperAssistant. Not only did I have to figure out what to do with the stuff we couldn't take ( ebay it- contracted out to Jeannie, The Master of All Things Auctionable), reorganize her filing system ( including file almost a year's worth of crap her former receptionist just didn't do), supervise our communication technology , notify every fucking customer we had for the next two coming weeks that we were moving, I had to take calls from Dee 4 and 5 times a night after work hours, reminding me of all sorts of crap that needed to be done PRONTO, and deal with her panic over this entire proccess.

When I'd finished with all that, I helped them pack. Effieciently, and organized-like. THEN I found a contractor ( my neighbor Jimmy, a gold-chain wearing goombah from way back, but a damned fine handyman) to help her get all the bolted-in stuff out and off to storage ( storage that Jeannie arranged for and showed up to help supervise with, even though technically, she doesn't even work for Dee), til it could be shipped to the buyer. I drove down to West Hollywood on my own dime ( gas-wise, which isn't nothing, I might add, since gas is $3. Thirtyfucking5 a gallon, thank you, Mr. Bush!!) to get our typeset plates from the printer for new business cards. I went to Staples 4 times in 3 days to buy appropriate adaptive things for my new desk and our new situation. And THEN I packed up my car, drove all my stuff to the new salon, spent the better part of day setting it up, hassling with the AT&T idiot, and fending off the two swishy, bitchy queens who own the new digs while I tried to make sure that the computer was talking to the printer and the cell to the Bluetooth and the cords not *touching* the floor on any of it ( one their crazy specifications).

Then I took the day off of work, since it was the first day I'd had off in about 7 of them, and even so, I took no less than 4 phone calls from Dee ( Jeannie got 5).

And when I walked in the next day after that, I was greeted by Vee, herr coloring assistant, with, " We tried to call you on your cell" (Well, it's the crack of dawn and I had to get here, I haven't checked my own PERSONAL messages yet). "Oh, well, we need your SSN# and your address." (It's on those forms in the new file cabinet under 'Employee Information'?). "Oh. Well. Um, we tried to call you" ( I GOT THAT, what is it?). A pause while she goes to get Dee. Dee comes around and says "Let's go outside". We do, and she says, "We tried to call you" ( I heard that. What's going on, Dee?). "Well, I need your address" (Uh-huh. I heard that too. What's the deal?) "I just think this job is very, STRESSFUL for you" (Dee, are you firing me?). "Yes". ( And why is that, exactly?) "I just think this job is too stressful for you. You get very angsty about things, and while I appreciate you want to keep things organized, you've been tired and a bit short lately " ( Yes, well, I've been a little stressed out as of late, with the move, but I'm sure it will be fine). "Well, no, I don't think so. You were stressing out at the old shop too" ( Yes, because you hired me and I hardly had a chance to learn my job then we were in the middle of THIS. I hardly had two weeks to settle in. But I could argue with you, and yet I know it won't do any good. Right?) "Right. I'm sorry, Jessica; I like you as a person, but this is a business decision."

As I was leaving, I looked through the window and there was already someone at my desk. I don't know where they found her, or when, but there she was, sitting at the desk that I put together, that I moved, that I organized, that I made sure was workable, so that everything would run without a HITCH the minute we got to the new place. I was dead certain that this new girl wouldn't be stressed out. At all. Because I had made damned sure that every major account, file, every fucking paperclip was where it was supposed to be. Nope. No stress for her. She's going to be the Best Assistant They've Ever Had, because she could lay back and not do a damned thing for months and they wouldn't know the difference, as that's how well I'd done my job.

And you know what?

Dee was right about my being stressed, because at that moment, I just wanted to strangle her. My GOD. The chutzpah of this woman calling me stressed, when she'd lumped the world on my shoulders and asked me to carry it, and I did, and had the unholy gall to get snappy a few times and need a day off. I CARRIED her through that move when Bitchy Coloring Assistant/Best Pal Vee had 1.) traffic court and 2.) an acting gig in the middle of it and just plain old wasn't around. I didn't have time to do my own damned dishes . I had my friends and neighbors on speed dial helping her out at the drop of a dime ( Jeannie's commentary: "you have GOT to be kidding me. No WAY. NO WAY?!?! Jessica, I don't even work there and she's drivng me insane with calls and questions and her needs, so I cannot even imagine what it's like for YOU. And she FIRED you? That is WRONG.") . If I was stressed, then it was because SHE wasn't. If I seemed a bit anxious, a bit on edge at times, it's because she pushed me there. And as someone else so astutely noticed, "What a HUUUUUGE projection she's making. Here she is, going through a major change and loss, and instead of feeling her anxiety and stress, she puts it on you, makes you 'unstable' for not being able to carry this load, and gets rid of you so she doesn't have to feel it herself." Couldn't have said it better, myself.

Jeannie says I should be glad that I'm out of her craziness, but frankly, I'm just pissed off, and really UPSET. I liked my job ( when we weren't moving), I liked Dee, even ( before this) and it was a good job for me to have as far as hours went, as well as the perks ( hair, nails, waxing, rubbing shoulders with all sorts of People In The Industry, plus Dee was big on giving her employees stuff- I got a like-new tv and stereo receiver and salon quality hairdryer and coffee maker and garden hose when we were packing up, just because she wanted to get rid of it). Not to mention, this is the THIRD job I've lost in 8 months, and I would like some fucking stability! Money coming in a regular basis! You know, things I like to call Luxuries, like being able to pay my bills and eating.

I thought about all of this for a long, long time. I thought, "what am I doing wrong, here?" And there's just NOTHING, nothing I could have done differently to make this woman happy. In my last two jobs, well.... a few smallish things, but not much. They were both just as fucked up in their own ways. The only explanation I have for it is karma. When I sabotaged my way out of a job when I first moved here, I guess I acccrued some bad karma, and now I have to pay. It sounds wacky, I know, but it kind of makes sense.... it kind of makes sense in terms of the men I've had in my life as of late, too. I messed up bad with M and I hurt him and now I can't get someone to stick around to save my life. And if I were to take that "Rule of 3" Thing literally ( in Paganism, the warning is 'whatever you do comes back to you 3x"- The Threefold Law it's called, and I always thought it meant 3x as strong, not 3 actual times! That just sounded stupid to me, but hey, with the way things are shaping up...), it all fits. If so, then hopefully this is the last job I'll have to lose. I've got one more man to go ( groan- can't we just count Keith announcing his engagement to Nicole a loss? I do! Never mind he wouldn't know me to spit on me, but why should that be of consequence?!?!?!?), but then I should be square. If I'm doing the Cosmic Math correctly. If. If. If.

Unless of course, I'm just losing my mind. Could be all the stress.