PART X - Social Life ... as Others get Helped

     Over the years, I befriended the staff: fussily regimented old-timers and party-hungry stock kids alike.  

     I socialized with the tailors (all from foreign countries), the guys in our shipping room, both of the Hispanic cleaning women, and the Visual Display team.  Our gay GM had a penchant for hiring cute stock boys.  Some hinted at sexual ambivalence.  Did I assume too much from the looks in their eyes and their posturing at me?  (Like him, below, in my kitchen).

     One of the Assistant Mangers was a lesbian.  When she hired pretty stock girls, it also lured cute stock boys.  

     Again, my workplace was a heterosexual playground.  Stock boys and shipping guys "hooked up" with the stock girls.  One boy bragged how he put a girl on the sink and f*cked her in the employee bathroom.  Experienced boys told newer ones where to get a blowjob behind a panel that connected to the store's windows.

     One night, a well-endowed stock boy from a neighboring store joined girls from my store, at someone's house party.

     After they drank enough, he unzipped his shorts to show the size of his genitals (just like in the movie "Kids").  Too bad he wasn't advertising for my benefit.  Nobody thought less of him... but at the same time, everyone mocked and made jokes about our gay boss "with a roving eye" and his prim partner.  
     At another backyard barbecue, I was trying to flirt with the host: a hunky stock boy who seemed to be "only-gay-for-play".  He held eye contact with me and grabbed my waist when we greeted.  He enjoyed showing me his workout pictures on his cellphone.  He told me to check out his new "exercise technique" pix.  As I scrolled, he walked away, and lo-and-behold, I saw some homo-erotic pix… probably put there for me to discover.  When he returned with a smile, I told him coyly that I enjoyed all his pix and would love to see him demonstrate them.  So, as guests departed, I made excuses to linger.  Suddenly, I was surprised by the arrival of the guy's already-existing gay playmate (not boyfriend) who possessively let me know that I was out of my territory.  The stock boy probably would've enjoyed both of us, but his playmate didn't.  I was excluded.

The stock boy was only "summer help" and left the company to attend college.  His "boy" disappeared, too.   
     A Women’s Associate and the female Head of Visual Staff were known to be “easy”.  The Women's Associate let it be known that she’d sleep with me, and I had a frustrating time politely turning her down... over and over again.  She recruited other staff to help her, and I delicately extricated myself.  

     Another coworker invited me out for dinner, but it was actually a Blind Date with a female friend of his.  Then, another coworker arranged a Blind Date between myself and her best friend.  Urgh!  Despite my own disappointment of a wasted night, I did my best to prevent the innocent young women from feeling rejected.

My gay General Manager knew that I was gay, but he never recommended any gay fellows to me.

     One evening, at the end of a garden party that I hosted, a busty stock girl was the only attendee who asked to see my bedroom.  In an instant, she removed her blouse and bra.  Just like my experience with the catering waitress, I was face-to-face with another coworker who had the most-desired breasts at my job.  But I didn't want them.  

With a practiced motion, she put my palms on them and put them in my mouth.  As I backed away, she pulled my polo shirt off me.  When I got near her to take it back, she put her hand down my pants and fondled me.  Realizing that I wasn't aroused, she finally put her clothes on again, and I announced that I was gay.  She kept that secret, and we remained friendly until she went to her new job.  

     I was savvy enough to observe how the muscular shipping guy went with a stock girl to her car at lunchtimes and drove away.  They always came back soaked with sweat.  The girl told me that they had quickies, despite his girlfriend (who had a daughter). 

 
     The newly-minted AM (previously a stock boy) had a sexual quickie with a stock girl in the bathroom of my home during a White Party that I hosted!  They're in this picture...

In fact, a week before that occurrence, I was at work and overheard him ask a coworker “not to ruin his chances with the girl by warning her”.  Even his fun happened at my home... like "salt in the wound"!

     One morning, as I arrived at my store, a trendy guy named Noah did a double-take to admire me!  It happened like this...

That's him below...

     I did the same, adding a twinkling smile.  We shared a few words, and I indicated that I was late for work.  A few hours later, he came in to visit me.  My first pursuer!  My colleagues mocked his chic appearance.  I overheard them call him "faggy".  The two of us walked around my store, he asked if I was single, and I replied Yes.  Noah invited me to his store: Burberry, a venerable British company with splashy modernity.

There, we chatted and flirted, and I learned about him.  He was from a well-to-do family in the Town of Huntington (named for the town in England, circa 1205).  He asked to exchange phone numbers, which I did.  With flirty wink, he said that he was glad that he spotted me.  I suggested getting together after work, during the week.  He agreed.
     The next day—and it wasn't a surprise in my life—I went to see Noah at Burberry… to find out that he was gone.  His boss said that he "didn't work there anymore".  No explanation.  By his manager's attitude, I assumed that he got fired.  I let another day pass (so as not to "crowd" him), before I texted him.  Noah responded simply that he was having a bad week.  My next text went unanswered.  Same with the next, a few days later.  He stopped communicating all together.  It all happened so quick—and yet my instincts told me that he had been attracted to me.  Other guys lost jobs but still carried on with people they liked, right?  It was like the 2004 film, "The Forgotten", where a woman's child is snatched away and all traces are covered up—trying to convince her that the child never existed.

     Noah was the only gay guy who ever clearly approached me in those 6 years at that shopping center.  And he was gone as quickly as Russell (but at least, that time, I responded correctly).  Another evaporation.
     Why was I having such a challenge with my romantic life? What had I done to deserve such a long string of frustrating men?  There are many "make-over" TV shows where the person argues/resists the help that they get.  Well, I never resisted any help… but I didn't get much anyway.  I wasn't a guy who'd had his heart broken and refused to let anyone in.  I was always open to the possibility of meeting a guy.  Why wasn't it working for me?  

     You might assume that I became “sex crazy” or started hiring male prostitutes, but I didn’t.  Nor did I falsely use women.  I simply believed that my good efforts would create good karma, which already seemed overdue.  I assumed that I had done something bad to deserve all those disheartening situations, and I worked earnestly to clear up my karma.  

     I seemed to have "bi-curious" stock boys at work.  Yet, it was frustrating to hear fake things like, "I only date girls, but I want to have fun with you", or "It's your fault that I'm attracted to you."

     One guy clicked with me.  Sadly, he lived with his Jewish parents and followed their insistence to start dating a Jewish woman.  He did.  That woman had a big salary and moved them into a top-floor NYC loft apartment, shared with 5 other roommates.  He invited me, and I met his roommates: one was openly gay... and certainly more convenient than me.  His new home—that he didn't pay for—truly resembled “MTV Real World”: 2 huge living rooms, an open kitchen, a permanent dancing pole, and a disco ball.  He was delighted.  How fortunate.  He didn't stay in touch with me, nor did he invite me to mingle amongst his new (gay) friends.  Thanks.
     Another guy, John—who lived in his mom's basement—eventually got married and moved away.  His wife made most of their money.  Stories circulated back that the couple suddenly moved again because of mysterious conflicts between John and their gay landlord who lived downstairs.  John selected their next home, which was also above gay landlords.  See a pattern?  They stayed there less than a year, before another problem arose with John and the gay men.  The couple moved to the wife’s hometown, where her parents bought them a house and helped John find a job—beyond bartending or spending his time around locker rooms while coaching male sports.  I lost track after that.

     My blessings were the temporary friendships I made...

     The ones whom I invited to my home cherished memories of cooking, drinking, laughing, barbecuing, watching movies, and singing/dancing all around.

     I was fortunate to befriend a stock girl, Yvonne.  Despite our slight age difference, we clicked as friends.  We dined, talked about boys, asked advice, and discussed aspirations.  She lived in Bayside, Queens, an hour away, and that would be of consoling help when I moved there in the future.  

     Another treasured coworker was an older divorced man named Richard, who previously lived a traveling life as a sales executive before working at our company.  He taught me about recipes and jazz.  We cooked, barbecued, sipped martinis, and listened to vinyl.  I helped him chase his escaped cat a few times, move heavy furniture, coordinate his Superbowl party and Halloween costume party, and decorated his tree at Christmas.  
     He regaled me with tales of his slick business deals, how he cajoled account managers with superb dinners and brandy (and sometimes women).  

     Richard and I sat in his Eames leather chairs, not saying a word sometimes, sipping cocktails, and just listening to music.  

     I still think of him when I hear Ben Webster, Nina Simone, or Oscar Peterson.  He'd say, "Do you like this one?  No?  Ok, lets skip to the next one."  or  "Oh you like the drums?  Ok, we'll listen."  

     Over the rim of his martini glass, he also directed me about what movies to borrow from his collection, so I learned about "great cinema" from the 1930s to the 1990s.  Afterwards, we discussed the best parts of the films: suspense, catch-phrases, comedic timing, cinematography, the way actors delivered their lines, and soundtracks.  He was a generous soul. 

     We also enjoyed quality restaurants.  He respected that I was a good tipper who could befriend a pub bartender, a parking valet, or a sommelier.  He lived in the City of Glen Cove...

... so he took me to private catered "terrace parties" hosted by friends in his area...

...and for seaside dinners.

     He described European cities and their great cuisines!  He took me shopping for truffle butter, olive oil, perfect steaks (from the distributer that Peter Luger used), and delicious wine.  Thankfully, in 2005, Michelin published its first American Guide, concentrating on New York City.  As a gourmand who saw potential in me, he treated me to a 10-course meal at Gramercy Tavern.  Operated by Danny Meyer (a leader of customer service), the restaurant won a Michelin star.  

It was an eye-opening experience, and I was keen on fine dining thereafter.

     On the night he and his girlfriend took me to a swank restaurant for my birthday, the restaurant's jazz vocalist walked past me.  She paused and said abruptly, "You're an old soul."  I smiled back and said a sincere "Thanks", but she left—without another word.  I wish she had made a whole conversation about what she meant—and how she knew it... but it seemed odd to pursue a stranger who was choosing to walk away from me. 

     Sadly, Richard left the company, discouraged by the unpleasant treatment from management and deteriorating work atmosphere.  Additionally, our billionaire owner cut costs, stopped contributing to 401k and pensions, and annually increased productivity criteria to 80%, then 85%, then 90%... at risk of employee termination.  The health insurance coverage got worse.  Such stress!
     Older fellows like Richard disliked the new layout of the store.  There was so much running around and stair climbing that his ankles got sorely swollen by 7pm.  Daily, I tromped up the three flights of stairs from stockroom to second floor… more than a dozen times.  I thought the revised layout was foolish.  Considering the rental costs per-square-foot, our store wasted SO MUCH space!  Naturally, no executive asked us about it before they implemented it.
     Sadly, Richard's last job in life was probably his worst.  He let his sales drop (giving his clients to me), so the company discharged him so he could collect Unemployment.  

     I befriended an Italian-American salesman named Joe (the guy whom the AM asked not to spoil his chances with the stock girl).  He was part of my four-man Suit Department team, and he worked for the company for nearly 30 years.  He had been lured from his Corporate job at our company to work at our flagship... via broken promises from our GM.  While working at the corporate offices, he met/married a lively woman from Pakistan.  He was a fatherly figure that I didn’t have.  He was the first coworker whom I "came out" to about being gay. 

     I recall my fear and uncertainty getting the words out.  Even in the early 2000s, it was a taboo subject.  Being gay could ruin a friendship, and being openly gay could jeopardize your role in the workplace/community… until you moved away from that environment.  Part of the discomfort in telling people was from taking accountability that you lied to them previously by hiding your "true colors".  When I was done stammering and crying, Joe told me that he had already guessed that I was gay.  He was non-judgmental, comforting, and supportive—even giving me advice to admit my feelings to a young coworker whom I had a crush on.  

     That conversation didn’t go so well, probably because it was on the telephone.  My first call to the young man ended without me accomplishing my mission.  So, I called back and then announced that I had something to tell him.  The suspecting fellow seemed irritated that it took me so long to get the words out.  I managed to say, “I like you”.  Then, I managed to indicate what that meant.  He paused a long time… and then told me that he definitely wasn’t gay.  He was annoyed with me.  Perhaps, I had disappointed him because he didn’t want a gay guy to actually like him—just to be a “friend with benefits”—like the “recreational girls” whom he bragged about.  He told me that "emotion" wasn't part of our "bromance".  (that's him below)...

The next day, in the lunchroom, I invited him for a home-cooked dinner—just the two of us.  He was noncommittal.  I gave up, and said that I wouldn't bother him anymore.  Our GM—who had been watching the body language between us—said to him, "You know, you're so stupid sometimes."  He answered stubbornly, "Yes I am."  He was in the second year of self-help “communication classes”, but he still didn’t communicate well.  
     Soon after, I watched the movie "The Holiday" and wished that I had men tossed seamlessly into my path—especially in time for the romantic holidays!  That didn't happen.

     Joe worked under worsening health issues until he needed a "leave of absence" under disability.  I led our coworkers and petitioned the company to help him and his family.  Executives declined to help their longtime employee.  Joe was terminated from his job.  We were devastated—none more than him!  
     An "angel" intervened to help Joe.  His priest introduced him to Catholic Charities.  When they wanted to give Joe free groceries, he proudly declined.  I urged him to take it!  When a reporter for The New York Times was alerted by the charity, she wanted to interview Joe concerning his desperate situation.  Joe proudly wasn’t interested.  Again, I urged him to put aside his pride and take advantage of whatever help the interview could bring.  Not many people get such chances!  The newspaper wrote an exposé on our company's treatment to such a longtime employee.  The writer timed the release of the front-page Metro-section article for the week of Christmas—in order to get the most public sympathy.  It worked.  Our company and the salesmen’s Union were suddenly apologetic, issuing statements that they had no idea about his circumstances.  A check for $5,000 and a "permanent employee discount" was issued from the billionaire owner (I'm surprised they didn't send a Free-shirt coupon).  That was all.  Joe's medication used up that money quickly.  For comparison, the billionaire's wife spent $13,000 for a dress in our shopping complex.  More importantly, the article made Joe’s friends aware; it "started the ball rolling" to help him.  Joe’s longtime customers donated funds, giving us money/checks at the store, and some connected him with doctors who did the work for free or that his clients paid for.  That is true humanity.  It shows the rewards of longtime relationships.  I orchestrated two “collections” from coworkers at consecutive Christmastimes, and I delivered the money to the Christmas Eve parties Joe still gave (to the best of his family's abilities).
     Joe remained a true friend—at all hours—when my life began to spiral out of control.  More on that very soon.  (However, when it was my time to endure failings, nobody pooled together to provide resources or pay my legal bills).

     At the same time, I helped bring a talented young salesman from the smaller mall store to work with us.  He came but hated the environment at my store.  He slacked off—often sulking in the basement—so that he failed to make his sales goals.  His reward was getting a “higher salary” sales job in the city: a job that I wanted!!!  My GM wanted to keep me and get rid of him, so the young guy's reward for laziness and sulking was a promotion to a trendy job at the SoHo boutique—selling Thom Browne’s line of clothes.  He became the darling of the Corporate staff, got chauffeured to fashion events, and was photographed and interviewed in a slew of fashion magazines and blogs.  You cannot imagine how frustrated I was, and what lessons I learned from that scenario!  I received no thanks for my good deed.  Forsaken again.

     I watched my vindictive GM strategize with the executives to ruin the career of another gay store manager, whom I recently befriended.  That man's name was Dennis.  He and his "life partner" came to dinner at my home (seen below).  Dennis admitted that he never visited the homes of his employees, but we bonded (through my sparkling personality) via phone calls and visits I made to his store.  Both men liked my humor, openness, and hospitality.  They couldn't believe that I didn't have a boyfriend yet.  They loved my garden and interior design skills.  (Incidentally, if folks visited my house and couldn't figure out that I was gay, they were clueless).  I wowed them when I moved our meal outdoors, so they could sit under a canopy of Japanese pine trees, surrounded by flowerbeds, and illuminated by "fairy lights" and candles.  Their eyes darted everywhere with admiration, and they adored my blend of music.  Dennis told me that he had not enjoyed himself so much for a long time!  I was looking forward to finally having some gay friends.  They were a fun, clean-cut, fabulous, and successful couple.

     Sadly, my GM worked behind the scenes to have Dennis transferred from his small prosperous store to the most problematic mall store on Long Island.  After Dennis (and his partner) moved into their necessary new home, my GM pushed to get him fired, which happened.  The effect hurt both stores, but created more money for my GM’s store.  It also cemented the powerful image of our GM.  Sadly, Dennis did not stay in contact with me, and I lost another attempt to have some gay friends, career mentors, advice givers, or "relationship" role models.  I wish they had been in my life when I needed help.