In 2011

In 2011 I was 35, living on South 11th street with a conventionally hot boyfriend and two funny dogs. Was I happy? Meh, I was content I guess, for someone with chronic bulimia, celiac and hashimotos disease. I had every notion that I was living with the person I was going to be living with for the foreseeable future, in a cool converted warehouse apartment with the bearded lady next door and the rock bands and Marc the squatter and all the hipsters. My career was definitely a bit of a schmear, but for some reason this has never really bothered me, in any event, all signs pointed to keep going, keep doing your thing.

My thing was, for some reason, making bread. Well, that and getting fired. I started making bread as a result of getting the boot from not one but TWO jobs. The 2011 firing was by PIMCO for not opting out of expensing my PM’s wife’s skis to be flown to Aspen. It was in the days where we used instant messenger by MSN. Is that still a thing? I know that some offices still must use instant messaging solutions, correct? Anyway we would chat, my “bosses” back then. It was weird being an executive assistant. You would have an executive assistant boss like office manager admin HR lady but then also your people who you supported in the financial institutions who actually go out and make the company money. Like the Project Managers or Bankers or Sales or Analysts or whatever. And my job would be to book their travel and whatnot, and the way they would communicate is to send an instant message saying something like “will you get me a cup of water?” and I would ignore it and then he would say “why haven’t I gotten my $466.23 back from my trip to Aspen?” and — get this- ok. to clarify here I had a few people who I supported but the guy who I’m talking about is the guy who got me fired, and GUESS WHAT. HE had gone to my fuckin high school. The high school that my MOTHER WAS A TEACHER AT !!!! HE WAS IN HER CLASS !!!!! WE LIVE IN FUCKING NEW YORK CITY!! I know. It’s a lot to process there. Definitely a huge source of this website and all of my serious emotional trauma but LET’S FOCUS!!

I begged the executive assistant boss lady to please, under no circumstances should you assign him to me but no. she didn’t listen!

Anyway they gave me like 8 weeks severance or something so I just stayed home making bread. I went to the kosher grocery stores in the Satmar Shtetl on Division Street and spent all the money I was making in severance buying weird flours and grains and syrups from these super jewy granola stores. Those shops are still there, the business district east of Lee Ave. It looks like 1942 all year round. Sometimes you can even see the rabbis killing chickens. It’s disgusting and smells like horror.