The following may or may not be based on a true story. You be the judge—CLS
DEAR DIARY,
Zaslav wants me to do this diary thing for the upcoming documentary they’re going to do for me on HBO Max, Max, VICE or whatever the hell it’s called now. I can’t stand this place anymore or these people and I want to leave so bad. But I’m being paid a stupid amount of money to work here with people who I hate and who hate me, so what does one do?
Anyway where do I begin? I’m a guy from Chicago, the son of an electrician, who got a TV deal by schmoozing a Jacksonville billionaire’s son and pissing off two kids from Southern California. I already have a ton of money from the last time I was on television but a disagreement with my former boss has kept me out of the public eye for at least a decade.
I started working for this billionaire’s kid and the next thing I know I get hurt on the job. When I had a microphone stuck in front of me after I was hurt, I might have said some things that offended my bosses at the time. But they totally deserved it and I got what I needed to say off my chest. Sure the guy who signs my paychecks was kind of blindsided when I chose to drop the verbal hammer on the corporate EVPs. I didn’t give a damn. I was hurt, remember?
So when I went back to my locker room the bosses I MIGHT have talked shit about to the press burst in demanding I explain myself. When the bosses burst in I might have been in my locker room with my wife, my dog, and my best friend and his wife.
Did I mention I love my best friend? He really has my back all the time. So much so that when my bosses came into my locker room demanding I explain myself, bro threw DOWN. He bit one of my bosses on the arm, beat the ever living hell out of another, and damn near gave the third a black eye before all three went running like scared little bitches!
Yeah there were two HR reps and corporate counsel there too, but who gives a damn? I was upset. Being offended still gives you victim points, right?
Anyway, NOT GUILTY! FREE PUNK ROCK!
—(Name Omitted)
DEAR DIARY,
Oh geez. I’m really beginning to regret that little scuffle in the locker room.
Now everyone involved’s been suspended—even the two guys who tried to break up the fight! I’m not allowed to speak to the bosses we beat the shit out of. When I tried to apologize to them I got a message from HR that said “They’re legally not allowed to talk to you and you’re not legally allowed to talk to them.”
The big boss took all of us off TV until further notice. I’m not sure how we’re going to make TV tapings work anymore since the bosses and I can’t be in the same room together without security getting involved at this point.
I just can’t stand these kids and their continuous need to talk shit to gossip rags and internet news sites. It used to be that if one of the boys had an issue with you he’d fight you in the locker room. Both of you might lose a week’s pay or so for the fight but it was over.
These days people talk to TMZ about you, say there’s some allegations of improper sexual conduct or something like that and then you’re good and cancelled.
Writers at the dirt sheets are calling me. They’re asking me if I’m a “cancer.” If I’m “bad for locker room morale.” I tell them if I’m all those things to find someone who will go on the record actually saying all of that about me.
I’m told no one is willing to do that. Which means the gossip is either all bullshit (which it is) or everyone talking to the sheets are enormous pussies (this might be true too).
Looking forward to Larry the Dog’s obedience training next week,
—(Name Omitted)
DEAR DIARY,
Oh this is getting rich. I’m laughing all the way to the bank now. Literally.
So my boss’s boss got funding from Warner Brothers/Discovery to do a new show on Saturday nights. And WBD wants me to be the face of the show.
This is perfect. I can work Saturdays, my bosses can work the Wednesday shows, and we’ll never have to deal with each other again except for the occasional awkward holiday party.
And Zaslav says I get full creative control over the Saturday show! Amazing! Now I will be sure nothing I’m in is crap TV!
My first night back on the job from my suspension’s going to be this new show’s premiere. Time to go pop a rating!
—(Name Omitted)
DEAR DIARY,
I popped a rating all right. And I got a letter from HR saying if I talk shit about my bosses again I’m getting fired.
Oh, my opening segment of the new show’s premiere had over a million people watching. I’m kind of a big deal like that. The problem my bosses had was over a million people heard me call them phonies on live television.
My bosses don’t like being shown up on TV, live or taped.
As punishment for my transgression I have to go do an interview with this guy from Sports Illustrated who’s about as interesting to talk to as a boiled turnip.
To make matters worse, I’ve got to do the interview at 4 am in Tokyo. FML.
—(Name Omitted)
DEAR DIARY,
Oh you should’ve seen my bosses’ faces on the Disciplinary Committee’s “Zoom Call” we just endured. Those looks made the two hour virtual struggle session worth it.
I was asked to sign an NDA. I refused to do so. My buddy, however, was asked to sign an NDA and agreed. He ended up getting about two and a half million dollars for his troubles in doing so. He never said a word about this to me, but why would he?
Anyway, I was asked if I wanted to tell the bosses anything. I told them I was better than all three of them at their respective jobs, that I hoped their mothers were violated with rusty fishing knives, and that I couldn’t wait until their firstborn children were cannibalized by Eurasian dwarves.
I’m joking about the rusty fishing knives and the dwarves, naturally. One has to have a sense of humor to survive in this workplace!
The bosses didn’t get the joke. Two of them logged off almost immediately in horror. The third just told me I could do better and that I needed to seek Jesus.
Funny thing is I’m an atheist and I’m pretty sure he’s not allowed to say stuff like that in the workplace.
—(Name Omitted)
TO BE CONTINUED
