TINY

I grew up in a college town, a university town really. My best friend’s dad was the president of the school and lived in a massive old house a few blocks away from our house. It was my “second” home but in those days I was there more than home. It was much more fun hiding in parts of the house where we knew no one would find us, or at the very worst, it would take them time to ferret us out…..actually, after awhile we knew my friend’s mom wouldn’t bother given her afternoon martinis, so we generally hung out in the “ballroom”, smoking stolen cigarettes and playing pool….they also had a huge indoor pool with a retractable roof. I’d never seen anything like it and since we grew up on a lake where we parked ourselves for the entire summer, the pool was our winter alternative. It was heavenly and ginormous. We would crank up the music, get high and play in the water for hours….it was there that, while dancing wildly (twerking before my time) to the Allman Brothers Band “One Way Out” over and over again, I cannonballed my stoned ass into the pool and whipping up to the surface in a frenzy, slamming my mouth into the side of the pool, and chipping one of my front teeth.

I INSTANTLY loved that chip. I thought it was the bee’s knees, my “beauty mark”, making me think I was even sexier than I already was, (if that was possible in my demented, constantly stoned, young mind). Sadly, that sexy look never had a chance with my mother. She had recently made me get the muscle cut out between my front teeth, so away went my Lauren Hutton gap and the future prospect of being able to be introduced as exotic; now I had a chip that wasn’t acceptable either…so once again, off we went to the dentist. My tooth was ground down a bit and I was fitted for a cap. Damn! My mom was such a buzz kill even though she had no idea I was buzzed most of the time…..

Fast forward to my grand entrance into Grad school, (another great story for another time) my tooth had been ground down to a stub and aptly named “tiny”… Nicknames were my way of embracing everyone and everything. Rarely did anything escape without an alt name and “tiny” served me well..Little did I know my miniature peg of a tooth would literally change the course of my life.

I didn’t want anything to do with school, let alone Grad school and was trying my best to find a life more suited to my “gifts”: My gift of gab….it was the late 70’s and I was sure I could make a boat load of money selling “negative heeled” Earth shoes, currently my after school job. My father, being a Dean, wasn’t having it and put on his scariest face to intimidate me into applying to yet more schooling, a nightmare that has haunted me to this day. (oh yeah, me naked, running down a hall looking for the room I was to take my final and never finding it…You know the one) My father would talk through his perfect teeth, all the while locking his jaw and boring a hole through me with his laser-like eyes. He had done that when I was younger and only after I had stood up to his belt…. So, listening to the lecture of my life through his teeth and beady eyes, I decided to apply to the only Grad program that didn’t require GMAT testing: Advertising.

That year of school was without a single doubt, the WORST four quarters of my life: Sleep deprived, group work with deadbeat members, classes that made no sense (statistics), a guy roommate that never took a shower (no wonder he never had a girlfriend) and no time for anything but homework….Four quarters of sheer torture…. And then…. One day, the rain came, washing away the filth (literally) the sun broke through, bringing clean and fresh après storm air. It was a revelation after the most depressing year of my life and graduation was just around the corner, the light at the end of that torturous tunnel …

It was that day that I opened a letter that wasn’t a “ding” letter, (of which I had accumulated many) This letter was an offer for my first big ADULT paying job in New York City AND I might add, at the most coveted Ad Agency with a prominent Account Executive training program. NEW-YORK-CITY!! (Cue that Stevie Wonder song that ran thru my mind for the entire year of 1980…you know the one….)

Moving to New York City in 1980 was exhilarating and yet so scary all at once. I was sharing an apartment with a classmate who had been hired by the same agency, so we would put on our tennis shoes and together trek from 77th and First to 55th and 3rd at an ungodly hour everyday. As we got dressed in the morning, we both had fallen into the new dress code that had taken New York over: Business suit, stockings and gym shoes. (High heels in our shoulder bag, of course.) Perfect to fast walk all that way, working out the stress that had already taken us over as soon as we opened our eyes…As our program progressed so did our stress. I remember so clearly fast walking home with my roomie when we were almost struck by a cab as we crossed a street. As if we were choreographed, we both stopped, stared at the driver and slammed our hands down on the cab’s hood belting out a big “FUCK YOU” in perfect harmony: A stunning moment for us both.. We had finally become that Melanie Griffith in “Working Girl” we both emulated. We flipped everyone off as we laughed all the way back to our hovel of an apartment.

For me, this “job of a lifetime” was a serious eye opener. I was not a game player, nor did I enjoy the account I was put on, so I was constantly looking for outlets to rid myself of my sinking spirit. I graduated from pot to cocaine and always accompanied by alcohol at a favorite watering hole….My roomie, on the other hand, got a plum assignment but with a bitch of a boss, so she decided to sleep with an upper management hot shot. When I say sleep I mean fucking him in any vacant room in the agency. Her strategic thinking made her untouchable. ( I knew I should have paid more attention in planning class) Alas, I wasn’t that lucky nor did I have any feelings for my boss other than I was sure he was in the closet…and that was all I was sure of at that point.

My roomie had all the “accessories” that I didn’t; suits, always accompanied with the little female take on a tie, high heels and lest we forget, bright red lipstick. Again, I didn’t play that game so I fought back, desperate to show my individuality. I wore one skirt most days that hit mid calf, knee highs and bucks….for all of you that have no idea what those are, google them! It was my way of flipping off the corporate environment and my assholic boss, Larry, who had evidently decided I was a loser from week one. I, very quickly became his whipping post as he was clearly enjoying every minute of his new authoritative role. He loved being my boss. I knew what goes on in that closet.

Larry was simply put, a piece of work. He looked “cobbled” together: He was maybe 5 foot 4 ( on a good day), big nose, premature gray hair for his 35 years and wore his “readers” down his nose 24/7….But worse than all of this was his speech impediment. Both our names started with an “L” and he swallowed his L’s. It was distracting to say the least, and it also made me giggle (obviously under my breath) when he was seriously reprimanding me or giving me an “order”. How on earth do you take that seriously along with that long look over his little reading glasses sitting on his big nose and then there’s his big head sitting on this skinny short body. He was a caricature of some animated knucklehead in Alice in Wonderland…something you’d find hiding under a big rock!

Three months into my job, the snow started swirling and we were all feeling festive with Christmas just around the corner. Larry was feeling festive, too, even though he grumbled about how Christian the city suddenly became over the holidays. Nevertheless, he asked me to help him buy presents with him. Yippee! An outing. I hadn’t seen the light of day in three months sitting in a dark interior office with two other assistant AE’s. Larry wanted to walk to Saks Fifth avenue and shop. I was IN!!

As we strolled to Saks, we talked a bit about the presentation every Assistant had to do.. I was petrified. I was a great “talker” but not such a great researcher, nor was I good at presenting in front of a group of people made up of my boss, my bosses boss and his boss. PETRIFIED!! I thought Larry was there to guide me, a mentor of sorts, so we talked about the project. Thankfully, this helped to put my mind at ease.

After the holidays and the strange jewelry box Larry decided to gift me (me, a woman who never wore jewelry,it was perfect for my drugs), Larry went dark. He only spoke when spoken to and even then seemed to choose his words very carefully. I had to come up with an outline for the research and present it to Larry’s boss. That deadline came and went because his boss was too busy. I had nothing except the sweat and tears of a totally stressed out Assistant that couldn’t find time in the day to eat, let alone stop and think about my presentation. Even more confounding was Larry had only harsh words for me that all started with L’s. “Loser” “Late” “Lazy”….I couldn’t breath and yet I was “Laughing”…..And, of course, he found excuses to be forever unavailable. I was sure he was building a case to have me fired. Stress was my first and last name by this point.

So, Lo and behold, the stress found it’s way to Tiny. My gums were constantly bleeding and painful. It was a bizarre complaint that I really didn’t have time to address but I thought it might give me a break and some fresh air. So off to the dentist I went.

The dentist’s office had a huge picture window looking down Park Avenue. As I sat waiting, I wondered if I’d ever have enough money to actually enjoy the city and not work 14 hour days, 7 days a week. As the dentist poked around he asked a bunch of questions, the last being on a scale from one to ten, what was my stress level..” Ten”. His diagnosis? I had developed a case of “trench mouth” (WHAT THE??)

He seemed very excited to illuminate me on the where, when and how trench mouth came to be…( and in my mind, I was thinking “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”)

Apparently, Trench mouth was brought about during WW1 when the boys were caught in trenches for days. With that stress, the troops would nervously suck on their gums or smoke incessantly or both. (WHAT? SUCK ON THEIR GUMS?) The dentist was quick to point out that I did the same, sucked and smoked..By doing so, one can suck all the good bacteria out of their gums which caused a myriad of issues just like mine, one being that my gums were receding and the cap on Tiny was loose …..yet another fitting and temporary cap put in place. The dentist hoped this would help in the long run but asked me to watch all the sucking and smoking I was doing. (yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that!)

Back in Hell, I guess the dentist appointment sent Larry into overdrive because I was informed my presentation was now set for Friday. Four days away. Four FUCKING days! I immediately began doing some massive sucking on my gums and running to the “smoking room” to suck down a cig or two.. I was sure Larry was punishing me for my dental appointment. I was completely flattened, feeling the end must be near.

I was a blathering idiot that night, so my roomie dragged me out for a few “pops”. Loud, obnoxious and on my way to being stone drunk, I explained the situation with Larry for the umpteenth time but this time I was interrupted by a random guy tapping me on the shoulder. I had no intention of turning my attention to him. I was in crisis! So when he kept at it, I gave my roomie an irritated look as it suddenly hit me and with a quick tug, off came my temporary cap as I turned to face the creep. I gave him my biggest “Lucy” shit eating toothless grin. All I said (or spit would be more accurate) was “hi, what’s your name” and he hightailed it out of there. We heard him groan “Holy fuck what was that?”. My roommate was beside herself with laughter and I was feeling redeemed, confident with my new weapon of defense.

The next four days seemed like Grad school all over again. I had the most difficult time focusing on my research along with all my other work that seemed to pile up in a minute. “Emergencies” kept appearing that demanded my attention right away and surprise, surprise, Larry took three of the four days off, returning that Friday. He was jamming me up and he knew it. I ran all over the agency looking for people who could help me. I was desperate. DESPERATE!!!! In the end, I had a “come to Jesus” talk with myself and wrote an outline the best way I knew how. The clock was ticking and I had to find my truth. The truth was I needed to come to grips with the possibility that I might be fired. The stress was unbearable (more sucking noises) as the sand was counting down in the hourglass ( massive sucking noises now)and Larry, the wicked witch of the West was just about to hand me my head on a platter.

I ran to the bathroom and sat in the stall for what seemed like an hour. I was dripping with sweat and holding back tears when it came to me. As I exited the bathroom, I made a beeline to Larry’s office. I knocked on the door and entered before he could reply. I stood there in front of him not saying a word, tears running down my face. He looked up over those silly glasses and said “What is it?” I put out my hand and opened it up so he could see. No words, just show and no tell. His face got beet red and he started to stutter along with his speech impediment…..”You, you, you, did that on purpose!! I know you did!!” I can’t believe you’d pull your tooth out to get out of the presentation.” I was really crying at that point, scared to be found out for the fake I really was. My reply was a bunch of spit flying towards his desk along with a rebuttal that could have won an academy award! I really had no idea I had it in me! I was GOOD!! Tiny had saved my life!

In the months to come, Larry made my life even more of a living hell, but to my surprise made one strategic error by writing a memo accusing me of not meeting a deadline while I was home with strep throat. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t a good move as I was advised to threaten the Agency with a lawsuit if they didn’t give me an office, secretary and a paycheck while I was looking for a new job. As it turned out, labor laws prohibit anyone of accusing (in writing) someone of being derelict in their duties when they can get a doctors note.…..

What goes around, comes around! In 1981, I went to work for MTV before it went on air and Larry was demoted to a direct mail account, two floors below the prestigious package goods floors. New York City was now mine (appropriately sucking down oysters instead of my gums) and I enjoyed every minute of it. I never saw Larry again.

© black sheep matters 2017

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