That Time My Homophobic Homosexual Boss Tried To Use A GTA Game To Entrap Me
When people who know nothing about me ask what my site is “about” (as if it is a fucking book or something), I tell them it is a liberal mix of pop culture observations and some truly embarrassing true stories about myself. It hit me this weekend that I hadn’t told you guys an insane true story about me in a long time, and all this GTA talk reminded me of a very dark period in my life I don’t reflect on much. I know that seems like an odd setup, but hear me out. If I told you about my life between 22 and 27 years old, you would probably want to bleach your soul. More fucked up shit would happen to me in your average day than would affect most people in a year. But, the more I allow myself to “go there”, the more likely I will be to let those scars finally pucker and heal, itching be damned. That being said, this story is the kind of situation where, if they put it into a movie, people would claim it was “too much”, yet it happened to me, and happened EXACTLY like I am telling you here. I wish this was all bullshit. I wish I was making this shit up, but, this is my life. This is honestly, my fucking life.
So to set the tone properly, I had recently moved to Scituate, Ma, after my closest friend met a sad and tragic end at his own hand. I was dating a girl who was, for all intents and purposes, fully and dangerously insane, and I was living alone in a tiny studio apartment with my ferret, Tigger. My life was a hamster wheel of shit, just looping on an unending cycle. I was ingesting a great deal of drugs at the time (bad ones), and I look back on it as my “zombie period”. I think it was like the laws of attraction. I was SO FUCKED UP at that point, that I was attracting all things negative and fucked up to me. This leads to my next point, and the heart of the story.
One town away from where I lived was the small quiet town of Marshfield, where I worked. At a party store, to be exact. You know, those annoying party stores where everything is bright and there are balloons everywhere, and they sell fake blood and Halloween costumes year round? Yes, one of those places. It sucked EXACTLY as much as it sounds like it does, and I hated every second of it. The kicker is, I had two bosses who were complete opposites of each other. One was the gruffy older guy, who always seemed angry and rushed, and the other one was the younger, happy gay guy, who usually seemed happy and pleasant. I actually found it kind of cool to have two bosses that seemed to be in such bitter opposition of each other. The best part was, for whatever reason, they worked the same days, and you just never knew what kinds of wars you would be stepping in the middle of. But remember, this was my zombie period, so I just stayed low-key and under-the-radar and did my thing.
But one day something insane happened.
Understand, we all knew my younger boss way gay. The man wore it on his sleeve. Never so much as said it, but was very much like a Richard Simmons, overly flamboyant and fun, but a little jarring at times. The thing is, we ALL liked him and treated him well. For the most part, he was a very nice guy. I am one of those people who genuinely doesn’t care what you are fucking and hugging at the end of the day, as long as it is not a child or animal. Truth is, when I was in the third grade, I thought that I was gay, but that is a story for a whole different day (wow, that rhymes, I should put into a trite pop song or something). Sorry, I am rambling.
So one day, when I found myself alone in the office with the dude, he pulled some insane shit that, to this day, I can’t even believe.
No, he did not hit on me. Hell, why would that upset me? That would have been fine. No, instead, for no reason whatsoever, he tried to use GTA Vice City to entrap me. By entrap I mean he was trying to get me to say or do something that would get ME into trouble. Wait, as I am oft to do, I am getting head of myself. Sorry, this shit makes my mind race.
So we are in the office, and he randomly asks me if I play GTA. At the time, Vice City was the shit, and ofcourse I played. In my miserable life, GTA was one of the things that brought me joy. “Hell yes, I love that game” I said to him, excited to have some nerd gamer talk for a change. He then asked me what my favorite part of the GTA Vice City is. You need to understand, that question didn’t seem odd to me at all. The thing is, he did not give me time to answer, before blurting out his own answer, which still puts chills down my spine when I think about it.
” I like driving to the gayest parts of town, and beating the gay guys to death with the baseball bat.”
Wait, what? The fuck did you just say?
I shuddered, thinking about how unsettling that was. To do that in GTA you would need to seek it out. You would need to go out of your way for it. It is not like he said it and laughed. Maybe then I could have been mildly uncomfortable, but atleast understood he was trying to be “funny” (but failing disgustingly). No, had he laughed, it would be different. That would have been the gay guy being ironic. THAT I could live with, I guess. No, It was the chilling flat tone in which he said it. Quite reminiscent of Anthony Perkins in Psycho. Calm, quiet, but with some constant, hovering sense of imbalance. The hatred seemed real. And where did it come from? Why did he choose me to spew that shit towards? Homophobia is a true form of bigotry, and bigotry is worst kind of hatred there is, so what was going on here? Was he disgusted with aspects of himself he could not control, so he was rebelling against it in the most vile way possible? Why was he using GTA as a bridge to sound like a psychopath? I am, per usual, not asking because I know. I am asking genuinely because, to this day, I still DON’T know.
Listen, I have gone over this a million times in my head, and STILL can NOT figure out his motives, but I reacted like I hope anyone would in that situation. I said to him, quite frankly “you are fucking sick, dude.” and I went and told my other boss. I didn’t know what else to do, but decided to treat it how I would treat had anyone said anything that vile or disgusting in a work place. It was like Dave Chappelle’s blind black racist bit, except it wasn’t funny because it was real. It still gives me chills to think about just how insane and uncomfortable that moment was, but I am grateful to all of you I can finally talk about it.
Suffice it to say, within two hours of the incident, corporate showed up (like men in black, no joke), took me in to the office to interview me about it (and I told them exactly what I just told you), and then they brought him into the office. The door was shut and they were in there for atleast an hour, and by the time the door opened, he had his coat on and was being escorted to the door. I will never forget the look he shot me as he was being escorted out. He shot daggers at me, tipped with poison, from his pupils, and I still don’t quite know what went on that day, why it went on, and what I did to deserve it, but I have NO questions as to whether or not I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I don’t care who you are, what color you are, what gender you are, or what nationality you are. Hate isn’t cool, ironic or not.
The only lingering question that still haunts me is why me? Why did he pick me? I was a quiet, almost non-existent entity at that point, and have no idea why I was the one chosen to try to entrap, if that is, indeed, what he was doing. I guess the irony is about “why me” is that it is a question I still ask myself atleast once a day, though not specifically about that moment. Really, more about my life, in general.