I fell between the cushions of his super-comfy sofa with pretzel salt snuggled between my pages. Another sign of disrespect for inanimate objects includes cat ***** stains that now soil my beautiful maroon leather cover embossed in silver with his initials. This guy is very mercurial, very spontaneous. He just started a brand new job last week and he's decided to leave it because it's "just not" for him. He's planning to move away to another city, reinvent himself - and revise his resume - so he can next fit into a blue chip job he's never held at some Fortune 500 company he's never worked in...and probably never will. He's also planning to magically "become" a Wharton grad which he knows will require a very attractive resume sure to score points with head honchos, much more impressive than the associates degree he actually acquired from some obscure community college in Jersey. He also plans to "create" a wife and two kids. Employers, he believes, like a family man, not a bachelor with a roving eye. Family men get raises, promotions, they move up, they fit in. This guy knows no boundaries and he's got it all figured out. His fictional alter ego will escape detection because he's pretty certain most companies never really check the backgrounds of potential employees, but he qualifies all this by confiding that such a generalization may not be 100% true. ________________
MONDAY, JUNE 8...
He has yet again changed his mind. He's not going to leave the job after all. Some big shot at the company complimented him on how quickly he's learning the ropes. Looks like that career renovation is no longer on the table. And one of the new hires - a redhead named Lisa - who started the same day he did asked him to join her for lunch. He digs the forward type so he says "yes" and it turns out they clicked. ________________
TUESDAY, JUNE 9...
****** Day for me! He's now decided to forego any more diary entries although he refers to me as his "journal" - obviously a more butch designation than the antique genteel "diary" of years past. He's decided to stay on the job, stay focused, blah, blah, blah. Being a diary is no walk in the park. I've given him all these pages to confide in...I've given him an outlet for his deepest thoughts, his wildest dreams, his secret desires, and now he's ditching me like a cheap suit. (Pardon the cliche.) Excuse me as I prepare for the old heave-**. Ingratitude is always a *****!