I asked Paul if this level of disinterest is normal from him and he assured me that it is. That Mahler is known to give big assignments and then leave us to do our work without micromanagement. But now I’m even wondering if I can trust Paul to tell me the truth. I spent all weekend drafting statements for coaches and the general managers to use when they’re confronted with questions about Quinton. The messaging is in line with what Quinton has been saying, but takes pressure off the organization. Paul thanked me and told me I did a great job, but when I watched the press conference after the practice, the coaches were singing a completely different tune. It’s like Paul took my message and gave them the polar opposite statement. I can feel the distance growing between me and my coworkers. That feeling of never quite fitting in or belonging grows more pronounced every time I walk in the room.

If Quinton’s intentions were to plant a poppy seed of doubt that would bloom into full-blown paranoia, he was wildly successful.

And now, unlucky for me, I get to start my weekend by spending this beautiful Saturday morning waking up way too early and listening to Quinton’s annoying voice echoing around the empty room where we’ll be hosting his launch event in exactly ten days. And would you like to know how I’m feeling about that? In the infamous words of Dorinda—New York is the best Housewives franchise, don’t @ me—Medley, “Not well, bitch!”

“What do you think of setting up the bar here?” Brynn points to the corner of the empty event space. “We can bring in our chalkboard, and Paisley, one of the bartenders working that night, is great at hand-lettering so it will look pretty too.”

“Ask Quinton, it’s his event. I’m just here to take notes for setup. All the decisions are his to make.” I can’t even be bothered to care anymore. I already have plans to spend tonight with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while I update my résumé.

Apparently, Quinton is capable of making friends with some people, and Maxwell Lewis is one of them. Between their relationship and Brynn’s longstanding one with the Mustangs organization, she volunteered to donate her services to this event. And because of Quinton’s and the venue’s schedules, she was nice enough to come out during the only time they could squeeze us in.

If I wasn’t too busy hating my life right now, I’d be really excited to be spending time with her.

But instead, all my enthusiasm for anything including Quinton Howard Junior is long gone and I have adopted the mood of an angsty teen instead.