Cutting Slack
hello to the hierarchy of my besties: irl besties, internet besties, fantasy besties; the hierarchy of my haters: just the three of you, followed by someone who goes by the alias k.s on google reviews; an ever dwindling number of exes who can read, a handful of people i’m just getting to know who are about to know me too well too fast, and anyone else who has stumbled upon this highly specific page on the internet!!
if you’ve been here before, you know the deal. i’m going to weave a web of little jokes into a somewhat coherent story and then as a reward for knowing me you get the opportunity to see 20 things i hope to receive for my birthday, which, i hope you know… is tomorrow (26 september); i’m turning 94.
The joke web:
In february 2023 after the company I co-created sold to one of the corniest companies on the planet, I quit because they wanted me to set forth eight hours a day I would be available to do work. Seven years into a job I’d put 8 hours a year into, this was a startling task.
Also, they wanted me to become a member of slack, or get on slack, or write to them in slack. Or do something, whatever one does, on slack. You can do a lot of things to me, but what you’re not gonna do is make me go on slack. Many have tried in the past and not a one has ever succeeded.
Not to sound like Mark Cuban - or myself in [redacted] years - but an 8 hour workday was not for me. And I explained this. I told a woman alleging to be my supervisor that every morning I woke up, I did cult for 20 minutes, wrote in my journal for 45 minutes, went for a 1 hour walk, came home, showered, drank a little poison, read for one hour in my garden, did some dilly dallying on the internet, and then I went to an appointment*, and by the time I was done with all of that it was already 4pm and that’s wind down time in my culture.
Where did she want me to find 8 hours?!
(*i realize appointment time is not a thing (everyone can understand) but I’m gonna have to save it for another post. appointment time is sacred in a directionless little bug’s life and it deserves to be explained properly.)
If you think I’m joking that I laid out this schedule to a woman who was born inside a human resources complaint folder and whose dearly departed soul resides within a ludicrously capacious bag somewhere, I beg you to get to know me better.
Fundamentally, she did not understand and spiritually I was not the messenger to enlighten her, so I decided to quit.
I am impulsive by nature but this decision was incredibly thought out. I wrote down a list of pros and cons and I titled the cons list “things I’m not aligned with” and I listed 11 things.
“I dont want to be managed!!!!!!” (this is a literal copy and paste) topped the chart.
To follow? “Corporate weirdness”, and, simply: “Slack”.
On the pros list I wrote: “Freedom”, “I will finally be free”. (LOL!) Underneath it, it says “Take a fucking risk.”
I sat with these lists for approximately three minutes, and then I wrote an email announcing my resignation. And then I quite literally never spoke to anyone there ever again.
This all leads me to one short pivot before we’ll arrive at our final destination of my birthday list.
When I mentioned earlier that I am impulsive by nature, I mean that I quit my job because someone said there was a question posed to me in Slack and I needed to answer it came to Ohio to visit my dad’s (RIP) childhood home and my (then) girlfriend convinced me to call the number on a commercial real estate building and within 45 days I’d signed a lease and 90 days later I had packed, driven, and moved my entire life across the country.
When I moved here, I knew no one so I did a lot of things you may think only people who are on reality dating shows do, like: go to an espresso martini making class, cook marshmallows over an open fire in a state park at night with strangers, slide down a snowy hill on a plastic saucer as an activity, or attend a local rat’s birthday party.*
*disclaimer for anyone here who doesn’t GET me bc I’m scared to be misunderstood: i loved all of these things I’m not mocking them; I’m simply holding a light to the absurdity of my *on the spectrum, agoraphobic weirdo* ass doing these things in earnest because i needed to not kms. ◡̈ kms stands for k*ll myself.*
(Of course all of these things on a reality dating show would involve two people, whereas in my case I did all of those things alone.)
As a treat for my efforts to be a member of society, the universe provided me with the unique gift of meeting the anthropomorphic version of my intrusive thoughts!!
We’ll call her Gloria (for no reason) and in our first phone conversation she had called everyone in the state of ohio “fat, lazy and bipolar” and told me my business would fail.
One minute after we hung up, she texted asking if I wanted to sauna with her right now. Now mind you, I’ve been doing shit “for the lore” since before it was called “lore” and men were just telling me I was insane (simpler times!!) so I grabbed a bikini and drove 9 minutes ready to go in a sauna with a random lady I’d never met.
And go in a sauna with a random lady I did... fully clothed for a reason that both confused and relieved me. In that sauna, Gloria repeated the aforementioned phone topics and added a pointed “nobody wants to work out; you will fail” while staring at me in a box heated to 130 degrees.
“It’s okay. Everything is always working out for me” I told her as she persisted in her negativity, because I lacked the ability to just tell her to shut the fuck up (and also because that is true).
I considered the possibility of her behavior coming from a good intentioned place, like when cars driving the opposite direction flash their lights to let you know they just passed a cop (as if that ever hits). I considered it was an act of humanity, one unstable woman to another; trying to save me from the hell she thought was inevitable given her own - self proclaimed - “failure”. (she had opened and closed a studio of her own.)
So I let her keep flashing her dumb lights at me, showing up to my studio uninvited in the middle of my buildout telling me I should see if my landlord would let me out of my lease, texting me little foreboding horror stories about the perils of being in the fitness industry, sending me local businesses that were closing as if to say “i told you so; i’m warning you.”
“You’ll see” she said multiple times, as if to predict my ultimate demise in a way I’d be able to reflect on in the future, remembering she’d warned me.
In those moments and in the months of desperation and grind leading up to the opening of my business I had no other choice but to move forward blindly, confidently. Long before I met this psychopath I had prepared for the possibility of failure. Unlike this woman, however, that preparation involved the potential of having to say “I failed… now what?” rather than “I failed. I’m the rule, not the exception. The journey is impossible.”
It’s been almost two years since I left the career I thought would define me, and while I certainly haven’t failed, I’m not writing this from the other side. I’m writing this from the beginning of a long journey I’m prepared and excited to be on that began the day I decided to take a fucking risk.
Two years ago I couldn’t find 8 hours a day to work and now somehow I’ve found 14-18…
and not a single one of them has been spent on slack.
The Gift Portion!!! the intangible: for the dismantling of nextdoor dot com, for all my bad memories to be erased, to win the war against seed oils, for the ai to stop(!!!), that the person who sullied my google reviews finds God and healing bc going against me is a form of psychosis, for great deals on this upcoming amazon prime day, that natalia grace is ok, that i never hear a telephone ring again, for watermelon to be in season all the time, that nobody is ever mad at me, that all eggs would turn to donuts in a way that would not have negative implications for chickens or negative repercussions for farmers, that everyone bounces back from whatever inevitable side effects ozempic will have, that my frequently used emoji are all safe and sound after getting rearranged, and for everyone I know and love to read the source by dr tara swart, and that they are all happy, healthy, successful, and in love forever.
the ones you can buy: these shoes (size 38) or these shoes (size 38) also these (and you guessed it! 38) i want to fix my brain here, a casual five day immersive neurofeedback experience this watch this large suitcase or this one i cant pick this gorgeana kind of urgently, this these shoes (great deal alert!!!!) (size 38) i think the trajectory of my life would change if i owed four of these and maybe some other things to go with it big year for shoes … huge a stunning linen spray this practical thing her this or something else from her(e) these, white, small also kind of urgently, these this definitely the max mara teddy coat in the absolute smallest size and this is the last time I’m gonna put it here!!!!!! ykto!!! (lol!!)
