12 years
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At work, my incompetent boss is FINALLY being gotten rid of. People in my team are all definitely thrilled, but are also like “oh, he’s a nice guy, he’s just not cut out for the job” and “nobody likes to see someone get fired, especially someone who has a family, kids, and such” and “I don’t actually wish anything bad to happen to him, he just didn’t work out.” Including me.

Truth is, I don’t mean it at all.

I really don’t. The guy’s morbid competence gave me migraine-grade frustration and sleepless anxiety for 6 months, followed by two years of abject depression when I just gave up. On basically everything. I’ve rated “Extremely High” on at least two types of depression on an online depression test (I realize they’re not exactly clinical) on 5 or 6 occasions over the last 12 months since I finally realized what was happening to me. I haven’t eaten a vegetable in 2 years. I’ve worn the same jeans and sneakers every day for 2 years. For the last 12 months, I’ve shaved maybe once a month, showered maybe every 7-10 days and had two haircuts. Because there seems to be no point putting in any effort at all. Any time I’m not at work, I’m at home holed up in bed. I’ve spent two years living in a black hole of despair. But finally there’s a light.

I don’t care if he winds up living under a bridge. I don’t care if he can’t feed his kids. I don’t care if he vanishes from the universe entirely. In fact I’d be happier if he did. Just leaving and never coming back is a start, but not exactly my ideal. Because I’ve lost two f****** years of my life due to this shithead, because of his inability to retain the most simple of concepts, make even the smallest decision, or look at you with anything other than a vacant stare of incomprehension. And it’s still going to take still more time to dig myself out of this hole, even when he’s finally gone.

So, I actually do hope bad things happen to him. I hope he’s never employed ever again. I hope he gets hit by a car or bus or something. Because the way the industry works, I may encounter him again at some point through some other company or a conference or something. To the extent that I will now have to maintain a watch over where he goes, bookmark his LinkedIn page (I would never link myself to him) and such, so that I never apply for any job anywhere near him. And because anybody who ever has to work with or for him is in for the worst professional experience of their life. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Except maybe him.

But, I will keep telling people otherwise. Because I don’t want them to think I’m a bad person.

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Idk if this happens commonly or if i am just very very unlucky. My father passed away 9 years before my mother. When she passed it was time to clean out the home they lived in for over 30 years of a 60 year marriage. My father took his camera with him all over the world in the military. Still camera and 8mm. Boxes and boxes of slides and reels. I simply saved them and set them aside for later. I got time months later and got one of those 35mm slide to jpg scanners and just ground thru them. When i got them all scanned i got a later chance to prop my feet up and go thru them. Amongst all the widespread scenery and travel and cool vintage moments i stumble across pics of my mother. Many of them simple poses in many places, mostly outdoors, she was actually a modestly attractive classic pinup type. But then i run into the lingerie shots. And then the tasteful n u d e s indoors and outdoors. And then the real shocker. On any scale my mother was the classic church going uppity prudish b**** woth zero tolerance for bawdy or suggestive behavior or language. Hell sometimes i would say something crude just to push her uptight buttons. You would not believe how bent out of shape she got when she found evidence of my first s** dream on the sheets. Or at least what i ever saw from her was that way.

But i see hundreds of shots that are full bore graphic. Nothing artful about them. Spread shots, bendovers, hands between her legs, and then actually having s**. But in none of them is my father the man she is havimg s** with. He was obviously behind the camera. Some of them? A minister i recognize because she used to drag me to church all the time. Neighbors or friends of my parents that i remember. . It just kept piling on. Shots of my mother having lesbian s** with my aunt, my father’s older sister. Shots of my mother with other women i dont recognize, shots of my aunt with some of the same women. Shots of my mother with multiple men. Def did not wake up that or any day expecting or wanting to see pics of my mother getting spitroasted or used by a group of men and pretty much looking like she is having a grand time. When i do manage to force myself to power thru them all, hypocrtically, my parents were both moderately racist, but the handful that did have my father in them? He was having s** with a few different women, all african american women, except for one woman. His f****** sister, the same aunt i saw shots of my mother having s** with.

The s***** part was having to go through all of them because i did not want to risk losing family photos or memories or history that were NOT my parents’ s** escapades. At that point i accepted that the stack of 8mm movies might be similar. And i was right. The huge majority of them were my mother and the various random men my mother was having s** with, but some of the men were not in the still shot stack. No decent family movies at all sadly, the whole lot except 3 of the 8mm were either my mother and who tf knows who the men were, or great, a lesbian movie with my same aunt. The 3 exceptions? A mix of my parents doing foursomes with two diff couples. Both of those couples i knew/ remembered as family friends, i had grown up with their kids. In both cases wife swapping with my parents. And the crown jewel…..obviously sarcastically….my dad with my mother and aunt.

Look don,t get me wrong, i am nowhere near a prude, we all have our little quirks and kinks. I am not judging any of them, it was theie thing to do. I confess i had a few queasy reactions because the stills and movies span a time from before i or my sister were even born, to a time when we were mid 30s, which put my parents and aunt in their 70s. Hell i hope i am still having s** when i am that age.

By the time i was done, i had one focus…..there was not a condom in sight in any of it. Was my father actually my father? Is my sister my full sister or half sister? Do i have half siblings i dont even know somewhere? How glad am i that i have never done the spit in a tube ancestry or 23 and me thing, because i do not want to fall into that vortex of doom?