"Dear Diary,
Today I made a complete asshole of myself. I have brought great shame upon my place of work so I am looking into major acts of contrition.
OK so it's not the end of the world. I walked out on a bar job.
Let's break it down for further analysis. So first of all I am grateful for my job at PUMP. I am a somewhat competent bartender. I actually enjoy making drinks. I wasn't fully prepared for a real shift, but knew enough to get by. Thing is up until that point, I had not ran a proper tab or rang in an order for seven years. So when the flood gates of thirsty patrons burst open for the first official night (which is how it seemed to me in my fretted state of mind), I was crippled with the fear of not being able to keep tabs/make drinks/make service drinks/chat with customers, etc. I started to get into a negative thought loop, which eventually led to shallow breathing, which soon escalated into a full-on panic attack.
Trust me I tried to tough it out. It's not in my nature to walk out on a job or just say f--- this. I'm too scrupulous. I have integrity and stand by my work ethic (I swear!). I'm reliable and one of the most timely sum' bitches there ever was. So yeah the panic attack rendered me useless behind the bar. I was in full flight-or-fight mode and had to remove myself from the situation. Panic attacks are terrifying. I can't imagine how people plagued with those function. It's debilitating. Last time I had one my college buddies and I made a pan of weed brownies and didn't know how to portion. We both ate almost half a pan. Within hours we were both literally speechless, couldn't talk. We watched Full House and tried unsuccessfully to hold onto reality. My mouth was so dry I couldn't swallow. Those sh--s are no joke.
So back to meltdown. I asked to take a break to catch my breath, but understandably they told me "Hey man if you walk outta here don't come back." I asked for just a bit to catch my breathe but they weren't having it. I get it because we were busy on opening night, you can't just bail. Anyways once I was out there breathing some fresh air, I had an epiphany; I don't want to bartend anymore. I don't want to small talk with customers and laugh at their stories. I don't want to muddle mojitos under the gaze of their impatient,thirsty, demanding eyes. I've been working in the service industry since I was 16 and I've reached my expiration point. This is quite an unfortunate and selfish time to have this realization, but there was no denying it. The toothpaste was out of the tube. While this job would have added some stability to my life -- it wouldn't be enough to justify working in a stressful environment that has no impact on furthering my career or fulfilling me in any way. Bar jobs are rigorous and demanding. Late hours and stressful. "But why did you campaign for a job and pester Lisa for so long?"
Hey I'll crank out a few quick vodka sodas, make some extra cash right? Wrong. I'm too old and busted to bartend now. Too cranky (at least in that environment). I knew I made the right decision at the wrong time. I Immediately felt awful about breaking the news to Ken and Lisa. They invested time and money into me -- and I turned out to be a bust.
Now for Katie or Lisa to take this instance and extrapolate, implying that I'm gonna do this with every job or not be reliable as a father or something is slippery sloping big time. Hopefully I don't sound like I'm justifying the walk out. I'm not. Just explaining the circumstances.
All this being said I was a pussy. Not my most gallant moment. I do think they should honor my cowardice at PUMP with a drink called "The Panic Attack."
Jax was so hilarious post-surgery. I mean we were all dying. You get to see why I'm friends with Jax. People see him in a negative light so often, so it's refreshing to see the lighter side of him that I get to see so often. I brought a dildo and wanted Dr. Layke to tell Jax that they accidentally performed a penectomy while he was under.
I can't stand seeing friends and family in the hospital. Guaranteed waterworks from me. The drive home from surgery was hilarious too. I was sympathetic to his current state but also was LMFAO. We stopped at the McDonalds drive through. Jax was begging for a McFlurry. He was heavily sedated and just underwent serious nose construction so I obliged. The line took FOREVER and just as Jax is ready to snap, this homeless guy comes to our window and is like "Hey can I have some money?" I'm like "Sorry don't have any cash man." I was so polite/sincere, I think he saw an opening for further talks. He's like "OK well you guys got some weed?" Jax is ready to kill someone because I'm paying this guy too much attention. He's almost in tears from pain and frustration. I say "No weed either man, sorry." Bummed but not fully defeated he's like "Well can you just by me a fish filet sandwich then?" Cash, weed, and then food. That's his hierarchy of needs. So I did. He got his fish filet. And Jax got his McFlurry.
Tom's line when he walks into Jax's apartment was brilliant, "Hey what happened did you bang some guy's girlfriend?" Jax was overly sensitive about those who didn't check in on him. He can be surprisingly emo.
I immediately go into damage control with Lisa and there is sure to be much ass kissing to follow. I really do need to get my sh-- together. I knew from a very young age that I was gonna take a long long time to figure out what I wanted to do in terms of career."
What do you think about Tom’s blog?
Vanderpump Rules airs Monday nights at 9/8c only on Bravo
Source/Photo Credit: Bravo
