Tomorrow at 9am is my first “official” counseling appointment. I don’t think I’ve ever really made it past the intake phase. This afternoon I meet with yet another psychiatrist — I don’t even know who it will be since everyone I’ve met thus far is on vacation — to be prescribed a SSRI. Dr M thought he might put me on Zoloft, although I’m not sure what they’re going to give me, or for how long. I mean, I know I’ll be on something throughout the study, but I’m not sure how long I have to be on that before they give me the drug/placebo they want to test. I’m a little nervous about it, because I haven’t really ever taken an anti-depressant. I was on Zoloft once for about a week and decided I didn’t want to take it anymore, and I broke out in hives after a doctor put me on Welbutrin with the hope that it would help me quit smoking. I asked Charlie if he would keep an eye on me and make sure my moods aren’t too wacky.
I don’t know how much he’ll be around, though . . . Charlie just told me that someone might be leaving the club which would seriously affect his schedule. I don’t know how much I should repeat since I’m not sure how many of his current and former co-workers read this (only one comes to mind, and he’s in Spain), but just in case, I’ll be vague. If the other person stays true to his word from last night and puts in his two week notice, Charlie could both double his paycheck and, unfortunately, triple his workload.
This is a conversation I think we have been having for, oh, I don’t know, about six years. It seems like whenever things get settled at the club, someone leaves or gets fired suddenly, everything gets turned upside down, and they want him to take on more responsibility. I don’t know for sure what Charlie would make or have to work, but I know it would be considerably more than right now.
I guess when former Fed chairman Alan Greenspan says: “The current financial crisis in the US is likely to be judged in retrospect as the most wrenching since the end of the Second World War. The crisis will leave many casualties,” working a few extra hours when you can seems like a pretty smart idea. I put gas in my car yesterday and almost had a heart attack. I have never, in my entire life, spent that much at a gas station, especially considering the fact that I already had a quarter of a tank when I pulled in.