Everybody needs a little change...

I've been struggling lately with a number of issues. One of them being my continued membership in a certain fraternal leather organization for men of color. I've been a member of ONYX going on two years this August and I've enjoyed and learned much but there's something that makes me want to leave while I can. And NO, it's not my position as an officer. There's no doubt I could perform the duties assigned if I had gotten more support sooner, but more on that in a few. Let me start by saying ONYX is an incredible organization made of a number of different men of color (not just black) that come from a variety of backgrounds. Many of them are professionals in various fields and industry from which many other members both Full brother and associates can benefit. Which makes my decision to part so much more difficult. You see, when I decided to join ONYX New York/Northeast I did so with the intention of getting know men of color who shared the same struggles and lifestyle I did. Having been an individualist most of my life, I thought this was a ideal opportunity to join with a group of people with whom I could identify. After attending a number of meetings and events where I met a few members, one of which I'll call "Dick". Dick was a nice guy, always commenting my looks and intellect, he seemed like a well-versed guy I could share a beer with and watch a marathon of Doctor Who on a Sunday afternoon. Admittedly, Dick is the one ONYX brother I spent most of my time with before and after I became a member. Side note: I choose to utilize the word 'member' instead of 'brother' although both are interchangeable when talking about this organization. The reason will be explained in depth in the coming sentences. Dick and I were cool and even though we had differences in our own philosophies toward life and how we managed through it we got along fine. Some would say a little too well, but those are people casting assumptions where they shouldn't be. Yeah, we fooled around but we certainly weren't an item. Well, with that watermelon-shaped butt of his how could anyone resist? I mean, there was NO way that overconfident jock was going to be a top every single time. There would have been some serious flip-fucking going on. But I digress. Dick and I had a friendship until after a bar night where my chapter of the organization was doing a fundraiser. All was well until I had an unpleasant exchange with some little black twink of a queen he was friends with through one of his "boys" he spars with on occasion. After the incident ended Dick blamed me for not getting along with whom he introduced me to. A week after that night we met over a bite at Subway after he got out of work. i explain to him in detail about what happened and told him others witnessed the exchange. No matter what, he insisted I instigated and that it was conduct unbecoming of an ONYX member. He went on to say that my actions and the way I interact with other members are one of the reasons he gets complaints about me often. Which is utter bullshit because I get along with everyone. He even went so far as to tell me he "didn't really know me" putting the final nail into the coffin of our friendship. Despite the fact that he's practically begged me to be the second top every time he's found some hot little gym rat to shove his dick in. We've plowed a number of white bottoms together and we've even swapped DNA. But this man decided that my word, as a friend meant NOTHING to him. My concerns for the future of ONYX NY/NE meant nothing to him all because some acquaintance of his friend whom he wants to bang into a coma is interested in joining ONYX. When I finally put the pieces together I made it very clear the only way he'll join is over my "dissecated corpse". According to Dick in his words "that could be arranged". After that I stopped texting him. I had finally reached my limit with dealing with such an egotistical, selfish, self-bloviating individual who is such a characiture. Shit, other people cannot believe he exists. After that it was his insistence I should blow off working my new full-time job to attend leather workshops during the weekend of Blackout last year.

Being the Big, Black Gatekeeper

It's been a week since my assignment at the doctor's private practice ended and I really miss the constant calls from patients ordering drugs like a stoner at a McDonald's drive-thru. Not to mention the various doctors calling in consults for patients with infectious disease, especially those that indulged favoritism when it was the spouse of a fellow doctor or a celebrity. I also miss the people who used to cry over the phone when I had to turn them away because they were unable to schedule an appointment with the doctor's office. In short, I miss being the big, black gatekeeper that put the kibosh on white entitlement. There, I said it.

What's it like to work for one of New York's top doctors?

It's certainly no cake walk I can tell you that. I started with very little medical experience although I did spend a semester studying pre-med and two years working at the Bodies Exhibition in the South Street Seaport. At the start, I didn't know anything about Dr. Harry Barfman or his practice. The day I answered a call from Liza Minelli's doctor it finally started to sink in. He's the one of the most requested infectious disease physicians in the nation. "World famous" according to one of the hospital staffers. I rolled my eyes at that one. At the start I was confident and poised to take over for Tina, the young woman who recently had to nurse to health a premature infant. All that went out the window after a few weeks of working there in his Upper East Side office. I had to set and confirm patient appointments, place orders for prescriptions, pull patient charts, fax and copy documents, deal with irrational or irritable patients and doctors all while answering the Grand Central Station of phones. It's very clear there was a learning curve associated with this position. Before I came on I was forewarned of tensions between two female staffers on the job site by the recruiter at my agency. They figured since I was male I wouldn't get wrapped up in the drama. Guess they think having a dick and balls makes you invulnerable to other people's fuckery. Well, it doesn't make you immune to Dr. Harry Barfman's sarcastic and sometimes acerbic comments. I readily admit I'm not a perfect being. Sometimes I make gaffes especially in haste to accommodate "the good doctor". But after an exceptionally demeaning afternoon with my "boss" I thought it was high time people knew the truth behind this brilliant doctor whose patients hold up high on some demented alabaster pedestal. Harry is a challenge to work for because he expects facts spit out to him regarding the progress of operations in the office. Even shit he doesn't deal with head-on like the procurement and implementation of billing software. The man doesn't even give out his email for fear of being bombarded with consultations and requests to solve some mysterious illness. Shit, I had to use my personal email address to try a solve a billing issue that dragged on for six months BEFORE I got there! How did I got suckered into this? Simple, it was Tina's job and even though she had more knowledge of the leasing information I was now occupying her job. For what it's worth Harry CAN be engaging when he's in a good mood but when confused or perturbed he can become a prick to those helping him run his private practice on the upper east side. And for a successful professional who doesn't accept any insurance he really shouldn't complain about people looking for his services. There are people out there suffering who cannot manage out there. Last week I had to turn away a teacher who was diagnosed with typhoid and left South Africa to get top-notch care from a professional I.D. doctor. Anytime Harry goes off on one of his rants about how the people who seek him out don't respect his time I want to remind him he's the one who makes the hours. He determines when he's available and no one else. He's a concierge doctor who doesn't participate with any insurance and charges for consultations starting at hundreds. Truth is, Harry doesn't realize how good he has it compared to most people out here. He has a roof over his head, can pay his bills, support his family and knows he'll have a thriving career for years to come. If business is so overwhelming then don't take the patients. It's that simple. But someone's gotta capitalize off the ailing masses. Why not him? Even if it results in a neurotic,