AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Angela's Journal" was originally published between in 2005-2008 on a fanfiction site affiliated with the now defunct fansite, The Who's The Boss? Resource. However, I never completed the last five entries for Season 8, and have regretted it ever since. Life just got in the way, and my commitment faded. With the recent revival of the fansite on Facebook, I decided to republish this journal, and finally complete it. While most entries are as they originally appeared, I took the liberty of making some edits, updates, and adjustments as necessary. However, I'm proud to say that even all these years later, I stand by the vast majority of my interpretations.
A few caveats:
There are only 10 entries per season, so not every episode is represented, and oftentimes, several episodes were combined into one entry. Afterall, no one writes about every little thing that happens in their life.
The better you know the show, the more references you'll understand. Sometimes a whole episode is boiled down to one stray comment, depending on what I believe Angela would have focused on when recording her private thoughts.
TV sitcoms, particularly in the 80s, were not exactly known for their continuity, and WTB? is no different. Characters often snap back to "normal" after major episodes, and the status quo resets every week. Hopefully, this journal helps makes sense of how Angela processed the events of her life, even (or especially) when the contradictions felt overwhelming.
Lastly, I took the liberty of filling in some blanks. While the Journal is meant to exist wholly within canon, I added my own conversations, follow-ups, and even some fluff that weren't in the show but would/could have fit with the events as they were depicted in the episodes.
I hope you find this Journal to be an insightful and honest account of Angela Bower's thoughts and decisions during her life, as presented on the show.
Vol. 1; Entry 1: New Beginnings
I always seem to begin a new journal in the fall – which probably echoes back to my school years when everything happened in September: new clothes, new friends, new fears, new resolutions. I guess after a while, one starts to associate September with a new year rather than January. And with Jonathan in second grade, I'm still following an academic calendar alongside a traditional one.
And what better time to resume journaling than when big things happen. The past few months and years left me with so little time to reflect. With Michael gone so much, and finally permanently, and me trying to climb the corporate ladder (more on that later!), I have neglected the one pastime that was my saving grace through high school and college. While cultivating an image for the world, and trying so desperately to sculpt myself into the person I wanted so badly to be, I was always able to be honest with myself within the pages of a journal. Being able to look back on who I was has helped me improve myself and determine what I have to do to become the person I want to be. I hope to recapture that honesty once again as I move into a new phase in my life.
They say that when it rains, it pours, and that couldn't be more true than when examining the events of the past twenty-four hours. First, the big news – I almost can't catch my breath enough to write it! Finally, finally, after thirteen solid years of work and dedication, I have earned the top spot at Wallace and McQuade. Yes, that's right, you are looking at the newest president of the twelfth largest advertising agency in the country. When I walked in the doors to that company, the ink not yet dry on my college diploma, I was a fresh-faced grad facing the big, bad business world. But oh, was I eager. I was willing to do anything, and therefore did: get coffee, run errands, iron executives' shirts. And if I hadn't wizened up, I'd still be doing those chores for peanuts. I guess this is where I pay due tribute to Mother. If it weren't for her, I may never have realized the clichéd glass ceiling that was sitting right on top of my head. But she sat me down and said, "Angela, the longer you put up with being those men's personal servant, the more they will treat you like it." And she was right. Outwardly, the '70s were the time of women's liberation, but in the board room, men reigned (and truthfully still do), and did not want to open up their exclusive club to "the weaker sex."
So I fought, and pestered, and badgered until I earned a spot on my first campaign team – two years after I was hired. Wow, was it really that long ago? Getting this position has made me feel emotions that are so overwhelming. It is the ultimate validation of the choices I made in life – all those Saturday nights spent at the library instead of the bars, the mornings spent at the gym. As much as I believe appearance is not the measure of a woman's worth, unfortunately, those wielding the power still play by the old rules. And I knew it even then. So I worked, studied, exercised, built a wardrobe, worked on my vocabulary and diction. And finally, it paid off. I am 34 years old, and president of the company that hired me as an errand girl. It is a changing world, and I can't wait to get started furthering the cause!
At home, changes abound as well. Unfortunately, I'm not nearly as clear on my opinions about everything that's happened. In a nutshell, Mother sent me an applicant for a housekeeper. I may be able to run a boardroom, but I can't run two companies (the second being my house) without some help. After all, the men at work all have wives at home to take care of things – so why shouldn't I? Anyway, I need a housekeeper, and the applicants have been pitiful. Until yesterday. Gosh, this is going to sound so silly. I open the door, naturally in nothing more than a bathrobe with my hair in a towel, and standing on my porch is this buff Italian guy from Brooklyn (complete with the accent), who looks like he walked off one of my ads for Roma Tours. So let's just say I was a bit skeptical when he says he wants to be my housekeeper.
I was of course appalled and dead-set against the idea, but somehow things spiraled out of hand, I was running late for work, I had four people looking at me with hopeful expectation, and the next thing I know, I have a housekeeper named Tony Micelli.
There's no doubt he's very charming, not to mention convincing, and the longer he was there, the more I began to trust him. There was a very real sincerity about him, and I could see what Mother had seen in him. Still, the long-term wisdom of that trust will be revealed in due time, I suppose. I still don't know if hiring him was the right decision, especially after the scene in the kitchen with Grant, but Jonathan and Mother are obviously taken with him, and his daughter, Samantha, is very sweet, if a bit rough around the edges. They are from such a different culture than we are, and this is clearly the opportunity of a lifetime for Tony to give his child a better life than they had in Brooklyn. But is it the right decision for me? Having a man do my laundry, clean my house? It just seems so intimate, not to mention completely improper for a single woman to share her home with a single man. That's not to say anything will happen – absolutely not, he's not even my type. I can't believe I just wrote that. But of course nothing will happen in that department, but the implications will still be there.
In any event, he'll probably quit inside of a month. Fairfield is hardly Brooklyn, and I doubt country clubs and PTA will hold his interest for long. We might as well be from two different planets, and I just can't imagine such a macho, tough guy being comfortable working for a woman and living in a house that isn't his. I've known too many men like him, and he will bolt – daughter or not – the first time I challenge him on an issue. But until then, I'm willing to give him a chance to prove me wrong. Stranger things have happened, even if I can't think of an example right now.