So, you know when you get bad news and you think, nothing can top this? I totally wasn't even thinking that thought when I got my bad news, but somehow, I just kept getting more.
It started when I found out Azten, my boss's husband who's been in jail since March for possibly being involved in a double homicide after a drug deal gone wrong, received a letter in the mail that had my name and birthdate on it under the subtopic of OTHER CHARACTERS. I was now an official witness in Azten's trial case.
Apparently, one of the defenses is that Azten was working at the flower shop on the day the murder happened and I was the only one who saw him at the time of the murder. There's security camera footage, from the building that I work in, that shows me answering the phone, going outside and bringing in a large package. What was in the box and who delivered it to me? Hell, if I remember! But I do know it wasn't filled with drugs or a dead body. At least, I think so. I can't remember. The camera didn't show who or what dropped off the package but Azten claims it was him.
On top of having a life or life sentence decision hanging over the top of my head like a gloomy bad day rain cloud, I also found out my services were no longer needed at 520 Living Magazine, the magazine I wrote for. I had spent the better part of the month trying to get in contact with someone at the magazine, to figure out if we had any upcoming meetings for story ideas and when I would be receiving a paycheck for the last two stories I wrote. Finally, an answer came. It was Freddie, the art director.
Larry, the publisher and the guy who personally hired me, failed to come up with the money to publish the summer issue. He only managed to have enough for twenty copies, which he had planned to use as an example show future advertisers. Being that the first day of Autumn has just passed, I have no idea what an advertiser would see in a summer issue that never came out. On top of not being able to print out the summer issue, writers weren't paid. Neither were the photographers or anyone else that worked for the magazine. What happened to the money from the past advertisers? I have no idea. What happened to Larry? Well, he now works as the assistant manager at a Lowe's Hardware store.
A class action lawsuit is being filed against Larry and Dollarworks Publications, and though I know I should join my fellow writers and staff against the unfair treatment, I doubt any of us will ever see a single cent. So, is it even worth it?
But the biggest bad news I got this week was when I found out my friend Hadassah refused to put in a good word for me towards a job I really want. As some of you may know, Gwen, the coffee manager across our little flower shop is leaving in mid-December to be the manager of a clothing store in Milwuakee. The store would be owned by the sister of her current boss, Mike Lightyear, and Gwen personally suggested me as the clothing buyer based on my own personal style alone. It would be a fantastic opportunity, which would only be better if Mike Lightyear's secretary and right-hand man, my friend Hadassah, would give a recommendation. Except, she doesn't want to.
Hadassah has been coming up with the lamest excuses, like, my services are needed at the coffee shop to create new items for the menu or to write the menu on the chalkboard with my "perfect" penmanship. Okay, I'll admit, I've created a couple new sandwiches by suggesting some ingredient changes and my "R's" are kinda cool, but still! That shouldn't be the reason that keeps me from a great job opportunity. And I know that her excuses are to keep me from leaving Tucson, but shouldn't a friend help support another friend, rather than keep them in town for their own selfish reasons?
It started when I found out Azten, my boss's husband who's been in jail since March for possibly being involved in a double homicide after a drug deal gone wrong, received a letter in the mail that had my name and birthdate on it under the subtopic of OTHER CHARACTERS. I was now an official witness in Azten's trial case.
Apparently, one of the defenses is that Azten was working at the flower shop on the day the murder happened and I was the only one who saw him at the time of the murder. There's security camera footage, from the building that I work in, that shows me answering the phone, going outside and bringing in a large package. What was in the box and who delivered it to me? Hell, if I remember! But I do know it wasn't filled with drugs or a dead body. At least, I think so. I can't remember. The camera didn't show who or what dropped off the package but Azten claims it was him.
On top of having a life or life sentence decision hanging over the top of my head like a gloomy bad day rain cloud, I also found out my services were no longer needed at 520 Living Magazine, the magazine I wrote for. I had spent the better part of the month trying to get in contact with someone at the magazine, to figure out if we had any upcoming meetings for story ideas and when I would be receiving a paycheck for the last two stories I wrote. Finally, an answer came. It was Freddie, the art director.
Larry, the publisher and the guy who personally hired me, failed to come up with the money to publish the summer issue. He only managed to have enough for twenty copies, which he had planned to use as an example show future advertisers. Being that the first day of Autumn has just passed, I have no idea what an advertiser would see in a summer issue that never came out. On top of not being able to print out the summer issue, writers weren't paid. Neither were the photographers or anyone else that worked for the magazine. What happened to the money from the past advertisers? I have no idea. What happened to Larry? Well, he now works as the assistant manager at a Lowe's Hardware store.
A class action lawsuit is being filed against Larry and Dollarworks Publications, and though I know I should join my fellow writers and staff against the unfair treatment, I doubt any of us will ever see a single cent. So, is it even worth it?
But the biggest bad news I got this week was when I found out my friend Hadassah refused to put in a good word for me towards a job I really want. As some of you may know, Gwen, the coffee manager across our little flower shop is leaving in mid-December to be the manager of a clothing store in Milwuakee. The store would be owned by the sister of her current boss, Mike Lightyear, and Gwen personally suggested me as the clothing buyer based on my own personal style alone. It would be a fantastic opportunity, which would only be better if Mike Lightyear's secretary and right-hand man, my friend Hadassah, would give a recommendation. Except, she doesn't want to.
Hadassah has been coming up with the lamest excuses, like, my services are needed at the coffee shop to create new items for the menu or to write the menu on the chalkboard with my "perfect" penmanship. Okay, I'll admit, I've created a couple new sandwiches by suggesting some ingredient changes and my "R's" are kinda cool, but still! That shouldn't be the reason that keeps me from a great job opportunity. And I know that her excuses are to keep me from leaving Tucson, but shouldn't a friend help support another friend, rather than keep them in town for their own selfish reasons?
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