Perks!

When Turkey announced he was closing his law firm, I was in a panic at the idea of going through that whole unemployed period again. Everyone kept telling me it wouldn't be like that. They felt it. I didn't feel it. I'm one of those "don't count chickens before they've hatched" people. Apparently I didn't need to feel it though, because everyone else's feelings were right. Thank god for you people and your feelings and your chicken-counting ways.

When Gay Crush and I had our interview, it was interesting. There was no typical interview posturing on either side. He asked if he could give me health insurance through an HMO. I said no; he said okay and wrote down PPO. Health insurance is in the works.

He asked what I made working for Turkey. I told him my salary was $500 a year, but with overtime I earned $550 a year. He offered to pay me $525 a year. When I worked for Turkey the hours were 8:30 to 5:30. Now my hours are 8:30 to 5pm. That half hour makes all the difference. 

Gay Crush wears a t-shirt or polo with dark jeans and dress shoes each day. So I'm wearing jeans and a nice top. Not just on Fridays, but every day. 

"Health and fitness is very important to me, so I'd like to offer you up to $100 a month towards a gym membership of your choosing. Would you be interested in that?" Okay, now if you said that to a future employee and their response was, "Nah, I like being a fat slob," wouldn't you ... second guess your decision to hire them? Maybe they're not so smart after all. So I said yes not only because yay how awesome, but also because I wouldn't respect him if he respected me if I'd rejected the offer. My plan is to start gymming it up as soon as I have health insurance. If you get a call from someone crying and asking you to tell them to suck it up and go to the gym, it's me. 

Gay Crush gave me an iPad! He got a newer generation one and gave me his old one, but still. A real iPad! I am totally going to figure out how to use it just as soon as I get wireless. People keep saying I can download things onto it at work and then use those things at home without the wireless. But I don't know what things they're talking about, and if it's games, well ... I already fuck around enough in my free time. I don't need more easy ways to do that. 

I'm getting business cards. I'll be sending each of you five. You can put one on your refrigerator. When Gay Crush asked me, "Do you think you want business cards?" I asked back, "I don't know. Do you plan on hauling me around anywhere?" He doesn't know. Hey, he flies to NY a lot; I'd be more than happy to be hauled there! Nobody's ever given me business cards, but that makes sense, because legal secretaries really never leave the office. Sometimes people ask for a business card, but you just hand them the attorney's card. 

Another perk is that Gay Crush is ... mentally stable. Like, every time he walks into the office, he's got the exact same personality. He's a generally happy guy. If he gets upset with one person, he doesn't take it out on another, and gets over it quickly. He vents for ten seconds, and then moves on. 

Also, he doesn't have an ego. He left it to me to cut and measure the contact paper for the shelves in the office kitchen, but he would have helped if I'd asked. (I'll be asking tomorrow because I'm too short to reach the higher shelf. Just for placement help though; I'll do all the cutting.) Gay Crush has crawled under desks to get at outlets, picked up desks to access other outlets, etc. He doesn't waste his time, but he doesn't think he's too good to do things that need doing. 

One time many moons ago, on a really hot day, Turkey arrived at the office with a Jamba Juice smoothie in hand. He stopped at my desk to pick up his messages, looked at me sweating under the skylight, and thought out loud, "Oh. I should have asked if you wanted anything." I smiled and said nothing. Yes, that would have been nice. Turkey wasn't that kind of nice. Turkey was the kind of nice where he wouldn't fire you if you were five minutes late coming back from your lunch hour because he made you pick up his lunch on the way back. 

Then there's Gay Crush. Every time he runs out for a coffee, he asks if I want anything. If I said yes, he would refuse to take money from me. We agreed that I will do some personal errands for him, and he always encourages me to take as much time as I need, and reminds me not to use my lunch hour. So far I've bought him conditioner.

So technically, at the end of the year I'll probably have earned less than I did working for Turkey. That's okay though, because it's only $3,000 less for 120 fewer hours per year, and my quality of life has skyrocketed.

End Days Ending Even More!

Silliyak, thank you.

Last week I had lunch with (three different people, on three different days, and then went to a party on the weekend) the new associate from my old firm. The one from the Midwest. She's at the new firm with Turkey.

As of last Friday, almost two and a half months after working with him, Turkey's new secretary refused to work with him any longer. I am trying to not take too much happiness in this as I fear it's bad karma, but to be honest ... ha ha.

As for me? Gay Crush offered me a job a week and a half after my last day of working for Turkey. Yes. I know. !!! For a month and a half I worked from home while the new office was under construction. I am Gay Crush's first full-time employee ever. I am nervous for him. He literally has to cut his salary in order to pay mine. Luckily though, he is super busy and has a lot of client work. Yesterday he talked about billing out my time. As a legal assistant. Um, okay I guess. If the clients will pay for me to do all the same stuff I usually do as a legal secretary, then why not? (You may be wondering why they would pay if this is what I normally do. The answer is, the clients don't really know I exist yet - they're used to Gay Crush being a solo operation which means they're used to paying for him to do everything they need. So from their point of view, they can either pay $325 an hour for GC to print out and organize multiple contracts, or $100 an hour for me to do it. I'm just saying that at other firms, I do that type of thing for free.)

I am trying hard to get over my gay crush on Gay Crush, because it's not productive to have a gay crush on your boss. He will need a new blog name once I've accomplished that.

Hey, want to hear a story? Once upon a time, back when I worked in New York, I went to my boss and told her I would like more work, that I didn't have enough to do. When coworkers found out I'd done that, they said that was wrong, that one NEVER tells their boss that. I felt sure I'd done the right thing. I wanted more to do. Yeah, it turned out they were right. My boss gave me more, so much more in fact, that it was too much. Granted, she gave me one task that involved being tethered to my desk and one that required walking around the department floor, two things you can't do simultaneously. Maybe she just picked the wrong thing to give me to do as extra work.

Ever since then though, I have never ever made that mistake again in case it turned out the same way. I just screw around online pretending to be busy while waiting for more work.

Working with Gay Crush is different. We had what we called "an interview" but really it was just 15 minutes of sitting down and seriously talking about how it would be to work together. I told him, "I've never worked with a friend before, and as a friend, I've told you things I wouldn't ever tell an employer, and I'm not sure how that will work out ..." Gay Crush nodded and confessed he'd thought the same thing. To which I thought, "Really?! What did you tell me that you consider a secret? I'm so excited! What do I know?"

Basically we agreed that we have a lovely friendship and we are both good people who are direct, and we will simply talk about any issues that come up before they turn into something big. When I made my initial statement I was referring to him knowing about my learning disabilities. So far it's been fine. Last week we had to have computer training for a new program. Together. Over the phone with a third party (in England! with an accent! ask me to say repository!). The training was an hour long, and to be honest after about 35 minutes I was finished. I kept finding myself not paying attention. I worried. What if Gay Crush later got frustrated with me because he'd think I should know something since he knew it and I was with him when he learned it?

But I jotted down questions, and it turned out we had very similar ones, and that we also had the same concerns with the program. I think it's working out fine. Maybe I'm not quite as stupid as I think.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon Gay Crush asked, "I'm keeping you busy enough, right?" and since we're having this super honest relationship, I broke my own rule, and told him, "No." He seemed surprised, and confirmed, "No?!" I smiled gently. "I've kind of been spreading things out. It seems like we're in a holding pattern until I have access to the client network." Um, and until we've ordered folders so I can file all the random paperwork you've tossed at me. Hopefully I didn't just screw myself by being this honest. We shall see.

The End of The End Days

We had this client. Judy. This nice older Italian lady from New York. Who has a house in San Francisco. Who also happened to be dying of recurring breast cancer. Judy spends her time flying between Sloan Kettering in New York and Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. She spends all her money on her health and her legal problems.

I've probably told you before that Turkey is a psychopath. I actually looked up the definition of that and sociopath to figure out which one he was. Why yes, I DO (not) have a degree in psychology, obtained from Google University! The only thing Turkey doesn't fit is the torturing animals thing. Anyway, one of Turkey's cute personality quirks is that when he knows of a weakness in someone, he digs in. Visually, I see it as someone pointing out a bullet hole, and Turkey taking two fingers, pushing them into the hole, wiggling them around until the wound starts bleeding, then skipping off into the sunset, confused about why the person is angry at and hurt by him. I have watched him do this to people. More than once.

Sometimes Judy is only in town for a day and a half. One time Turkey insisted she had to come to the office to go over something. During a heat wave. At a time when Judy had just gotten off a cross-country flight and was preparing to fly to Los Angeles the next day. Turkey is notorious for being late. Severely late. Also, for jumping up in the middle of a meeting to run to the toilet while his ass explodes. Multiple times. So Judy showed up to our office, and she didn't look good. I immediately got her some cold water. She was pale and sweating. Her hair was a mess. I felt awful that she'd been hauled over to our offices when she clearly didn't feel well. Parking her in the conference room with water, I went to let Turkey know she'd arrived.

Of course, he had her sit. And sit. I kept checking on her every 15 minutes. Turkey kept making her wait while he worked in his office on something he claimed had come up that was "urgent," his favorite word. Judy waited almost an hour. Finally I pointed out to Turkey that he had another appointment coming up, after Judy's, and did he want me to cancel that. No, no he did not.

It was awkward. I'd go into the conference room, apologize to Judy, ask if she needed more water, maybe a Snapple, and she'd just ask if Turkey knew she was there. "Oh yes, I told him when you arrived, and have been reminding him every 15 minutes." He just doesn't care. Had Judy not really needed legal advice, I think she would have left. She looked worse and worse. Finally, after Judy had been waiting almost an hour and a half, Turkey "realized" the time.

Calling me into his office, Turkey told me to reschedule Judy. "Turkey, she's been waiting for over an hour!" He looked at me as if I was nuts. "Well, I have an appointment, what do you want me to do?" I stared at him like the idiot he was. "Be late for it, and meet with the person who made the effort to get to your office despite not feeling well." If you're thinking, "Isn't it kind of inappropriate to talk to your boss this way?" the answer is yes, and I knew I was taking a gamble.

Turkey was quietly loving it. He thrives on drama. Even if it's the type of drama that makes people angry at him. You can just see his body language get happy - I've never seen anything like it before.

Wondering what happened to Judy? Well, I suggested to Turkey that he have her walk downstairs and ride to his destination with him, and then he could just get out of the cab and give her money for the cab to take her home. That way he could get to his meeting without losing time but he'd still be honoring his commitment to Judy. Turkey refused.

Instead, he literally SNUCK OUT OF THE OFFICE on the coattails of a couple of delivery people complete with crouching down and everything, leaving us to tell Judy ... whatever. I almost cried. I was so embarrassed to be working for this idiot, and so angry and frustrated on her behalf. Judy couldn't quite comprehend what I was telling her at first. But ... did he realize she'd been waiting for him? Yes, yes he did. Did he realize she was only in town a short time? Yes, yes he did. And that she wasn't feeling well and had hauled herself over here despite that? Yes, yes he did. I did not make any excuses past the initial, "Turkey asked that I apologize that he had to miss this meeting, and that we reschedule when you'll next be in town."

Judy stared at me in shock, trying to wrap her head around what had been done to her. I walked her all the way down to the street and hailed a cab for her while she waited in the shade. Then Turkey fired her.

So you may understand why I rejected Turkey's offer of two weeks of severance pay in exchange for signing his release of claims, and said that I hoped he would consider putting the money he saved in not paying my severance, towards the Judy's bill, so he's suing the woman dying of breast cancer for less money. Office Manager did the same thing. Turkey probably won't reduce her bill. Judy will never know what we did. But every time I think about whether or not I'm an idiot to have foregone the money, the decision made feels like the right one.

The End Days

It's hard to know where to begin. I'm trying to begin at the beginning of the end, but it's hard to know where that is. Maybe it's January 4th, when Turkey announced he was shutting down the firm, and then promptly laid off the office manager using that as an excuse, while the truth was that (he desperately needed him) Turkey was scared of Office Manager, after OM began showing his anger at how shittily Turkey was treating him.

I think my last day of work was February 19th. It was definitely a Wednesday. The last two days nearly killed me. We were trying to pack up the office, get everything out of storage (about 240 boxes filled with files), and wrap up a few legal cases that weren't being transferred to the new firm.

Turkey was barely in the office during the last couple of weeks. Each day I came home with new paper cuts and sore arms from moving boxes (yay for muscles!). In my last week of working for him, I never even saw Turkey. He called the office a few times, but he didn't come in. So my goodbye was very anti-climactic. There was nobody there except Turkey's part-time accounting lady on my last day.

By my last day, Turkey and I still hadn't resolved that severance issue. I'd taken the liberty of filling in the agreement with how many weeks I wanted (we'd discussed it, and I'd explained why I honestly thought my request was fair).  I'd asked Turkey for four weeks of severance after he initially offered three. I worked with him for almost two years, longer than ANY OTHER secretary lasted, through three suicides (his mother, a peer, and a cousin), four personal assistants, two office managers, several lawsuits, the purchase of his country home (which was a lot of work for us, though it shouldn't have been), etc. Oh, and I was walking away with 88 hours of sick time accrued (but not used). Also, Turkey saved money because although he initially offered me health insurance, he never managed to pay for it, which meant I didn't have it. Originally he'd said he would pay up to $500 per month towards health insurance. Never happened. He saved thousands.

This past week, I got a new severance agreement in the mail. With my name spelled incorrectly AGAIN. There's something to the fact that I got both my employment and severance agreements with a misspelled name. In this new severance agreement, Turkey offered me two weeks, one less than he initially started out offering me. You could say I'm lucky to be offered anything at all. That I was greedy to ask for more than he started out offering, and this reduction is my punishment. Maybe that's true.

I spent an hour on the phone with the Office Manager. He was offered even less severance than I was. The severance is connected to a release. Turkey's goal is to give you as little severance as he thinks he can get away with, while still getting you to sign that release saying you won't sue him. OM told me he was thinking of not signing, and foregoing the severance. Nothing speaks louder than money to Turkey. He throws money at problems, and views whoever has the most money as the most important, most impressive. So to reject his money will blow his mind. It's crazy, but so is Turkey. I am tempted to join OM, but go one step farther. Cliffhanger!

Let's Talk About My Gay Crush

My Gay Crush is so, so pretty. I was able to get a friend hired at Turkey & Associates to help with boxing up files so she was there today when he stopped by. She agreed that he's pretty.

Did I tell you about the present he gave me? A while back he went to Manhattan for a week, and while he was there, went to a fancy candle shop and created a candle with a scent he had them make from a feminized version of his cologne (which, hilariously, he assured me he gets a lot of compliments on), that came with a label that had my name on it and everything.

Also, he insisted I send him my resume, as he is contracting at a lovely firm that I'd be happy to work at, and within four hours of my sending the resume to him, he'd submitted it to the firm. If only all networking could be this easy.

Because we are shutting down the firm, Turkey's Personal Assistant (in case you're keeping track, in the less than two years I've worked for him, there have been four) has been spending a lot more time in the office doing moving things. All the subtenants have to move out, including Gay Crush, who really just keeps his furniture there since Baby Lawyer's been using it, but when he was told this is happening, he ordered a shipment of boxes so he could box up his stuff to move. PA ordered boxes too. Boxes came and she used three before it was discovered they were GC's. We apologized and I promised when ours came we would give him three. I decided to move his boxes out of the sunken living room and into GC's office (behind a locked door) so that the same mistake couldn't happen again, and PA said to me with a smile, "Just grab one more!" Um, that's stealing. Are you freaking crazy? I was only able to give GC two of our boxes, so tossed in a ream of paper as a substitute. I didn't tell the PA I did that, because she has this attitude that Turkey is the most important person around. Which I understand - he's the one who signs her checks, but it's still quite uncool to blatantly steal from someone. 

Turkey wants me to sign a release in exchange for giving me severance. GC encouraged me to let him look it over. Firstly, I've worked with Turkey for almost two years, and he still can't spell my last name right. Yogurt does NOT have two T's! Secondly, there are blanks in the most important parts (where it says how many weeks of severance I get) and the release is unsigned. Part of the release says that I am required to sign within seven days of being given this thing. Oh wait - that's only if I'm under 40. If I'm over 40, then I get 21 days. How is that not age discrimination? Also, I am allowed to discuss the release with nobody except (whoopsie!) my spouse or domestic partner. So again, discrimination, this time against single people. Wow, and the thing is only like two and a half pages!

Clearly I'm ignoring that shit. I forwarded the release to Gay Crush pointing out the two issues I had with it, and he agreed and pointed out a third. You know what makes me a little uncomfortable about my friendship with him? Every time we go to lunch, he insists on paying. He's a mensch that way, and it's gentlemanly and sweet and appreciated. But. He always waves me off, even when I ask to leave the tip, claiming I help him out so much, lunch is the least he can do. Except ... he's helped me a lot lately. It's at the point where I'm kind of tempted to slip the waitstaff my credit card when GC isn't looking and simply beat him to paying the bill. Though I know a few people who would get horribly bent out of shape at somebody doing that, so I don't know.

Lastly, Gay Crush recently wore dark jeans, a button-down checked shirt, a sweater-vest, a tie, and designer sunglasses. If Robert Palmer decided to bring back the videos with a slew of girls all dressed the same except switched out girls for guys, Gay Crush would totally get a prime spot.

Jealousy

Last Friday Turkey and I were talking in the conference room, and he suggested that he'd know something when he does his taxes - either this April or October. Then based on what he found out when he filed his taxes, I could file mine.

I looked at him quizzically. "I already filed my 2012 taxes." Turkey could not process this fact, and immediately proceeded to ask me if I'd filed my 2012 taxes three times, in three different ways. At one point he said to me, "But you couldn't have."

Actually, I could have, and I did. Turkey gave me the prior year's tax form, and the very next weekend I spent close to an hour cranking out my taxes.

Maybe four or so years ago, there was an associate working for Turkey whose wife was pregnant. Something happened in utero to the fetus, and the baby came out with all sorts of problems. Turkey promptly fired the associate, claiming he'd have to take off too much time from work for doctor's appointments. Last month I was told it was that associate who reported Turkey to the IRS and caused him to get audited.

Immediately after the tax talk with Turkey, he began tossing papers at me to throw away. In my head, I immediately began frantically peeling the onion to figure out why Turkey's mood had turned so sharply. Then I realized - I'd bested him. My taxes are so simple that I do them myself. He has three different accountants. He always has to file for an extension while I filed my taxes almost three months before the deadline.

Turkey always has to be better than other people. He went to two different Ivy League universities. I barely made it through community college. He can not be bested by someone like me.

Today someone from the Ethics Commission called.

Explain Me This

Thank you guys for all your support and encouragement. Really. I read and re-read and played it all back in my head when I needed a lift. Thank you. Thank you, for not only saying all those kind things, but also for not saying all the negative things I think at myself. Clearly the universe is paying you back for something. Maybe you should just admit defeat. You must be some kind of extra special fuckup because nobody has this many problems with jobs. 
One time, I think it may have been during The Florida Years, I seriously considered trying to get myself labeled severely handicapped enough to get disability for life. I'd go live in a group home with mentally retarded people, and maybe be given some menial part-time job as a supermarket bagger. Because clearly that is all I am capable of. Clearly I need extensive help and supervision. Because I keep trying, yet keep failing. Is it a spectacularly bad run of luck? There must be some fundamental nugget of knowledge that everyone else has that I can't seem to grasp. It's like when I used to try to learn things in school - everyone else would understand a concept intuitively except me, but even after it was pointed out, I wouldn't understand it, and even though nobody else needed it explained to them, I did, and even after it was explained, I still wouldn't understand.

So what is it about working and jobs that everyone else does that I can't seem to do too? A hundred years ago my mother tried to tell me not to say negative things about myself. Why point out your flaws? If you say horrible things about yourself all the time, people will start to believe you. So I'm very careful about my self-deprecating humor - how much I say, who I say it to. But all these other people do it CONSTANTLY. Always joking about what losers they are. Meanwhile they've had the same job for six, eight years. Not such a loser.

It's so disheartening. I put in outrageous amounts of effort, and can't get anywhere near as far as other people who barely have to think about it at all. Everyone at my job seems shocked that I haven't had offers just falling into my lap for the last two or three weeks. Yesterday a client sent us a check for $16,000 in response to an invoice we'd sent them. When I sat down to meet with Turkey, I announced, "I have good news!" because he always loves to hear about checks that have come in. Turkey said, "You got a job?" and I responded, "Oh. Sorry no. I meant good news for you," and lamely handed him the check. It made me feel like such shit. I just feel like such shit.

Three Months Shy

Within a year and a half of working for the Turkey, I had saved up enough money to live on for a year. Not lavishly or anything, but I could get by. On Friday Turkey announced he is shutting down the law firm. He has accepted a position as a partner at another firm. Ten minutes after that announcement, he laid off the office manager, and two hours later, was having the locks re-keyed. Within an hour of being told, I was on the phone with a headhunter, and solidly got her on Team Green - she is going to coldcall some of her clients where she thinks I would be a good fit, and see if they can make a position for me. Ten minutes after that (thank goodness for lunch hours) I was talking to a second one - the one who placed me with Nice Partner, Tuna, and Cowboy.

I was out of work three months shy of four years. During that time I had some long-term temp jobs of course. Three months here and two months there. But that whole concept of being a super-star where you temp so they'll beg you to become permanent never worked for me. Job luck is not my type of luck. You want to find a penny on the street? I'm your girl! A job, though? No, sorry.

Turkey's announcement came when I am three months shy of working for him for two years. He assured me that I will have a job through the end of the month, maybe even a week or two past that. He's sorry he can't bring me to the new firm, a firm that has a posting up on their website for a legal secretary (which I applied to three days before Turkey's big news, coincidentally). Turkey claims the firm doesn't like incoming partners to bring their own secretaries, because then neither person integrates well into the firm. You never know if you can believe Turkey.

What I know for sure is that I have lasted longer than any other secretary (the office manager, who has access to these sorts of records, told me). What I know for sure is that I have not been able to get a good night's sleep since hearing the news. What I know for sure is that being out of work as long as I was? It did something bad to me, mentally, emotionally. Something that never quite got fixed. That low-level panic I had all the time? It's back.

The glancing 10 times in six seconds at a price? The rapid mental calculations? The feeling of something substantial yet slight, like a goose, sitting on your chest, making it hard to breathe? The urge to clean out your home so you won't have a hard time packing your shopping wagon when you become homeless? They are all back. Three months shy of two years. Join me, won't you? In saying fuuuuuuuuck.

Back Down

Way back in the olden days, the general public never knew anything about actors except which films they had starred in. For the most part, there were never films about an actor's private life until after they had died.

There was a president in a wheelchair and nobody even knew he was handicapped. Now we know the intricate details of a former first lady's medical condition. There are gay people who've lived with their partners for decades and may not be able to find out the status of a partner in a hospital, but we know about Hillary Clinton's brain clot?

The fact that we have a tv show that tells us the details of Khloe Kardashian's uterus? Granted, she is an adult who made the decision to make her infertility struggles public. But I think she has made a mistake. I don't believe someone should be able to be famous for ... nothing.

Dance Moms could be a great show, if it featured what the moms do for their daughters in relation to dance. Instead, it's the teacher manipulating the students and mothers into frenzies, pitting them against each other, and the moms constantly sniping at each other, exchanging petty insults I could have come up with in seventh grade. My mother spent tons of time driving me to and from dance class, sometimes sitting in the reception area through the classes, and I assure you she was NEVER decked out in a dress, with full hair and makeup.

I just want everyone to back up a bit. Take a little pride in their talents, and showcase them, and ONLY them. Here's the press release I would like to see regarding Hillary Clinton's health: Former first lady and current U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was hospitalized on Wednesday for a non-life threatening medical condition. During her hospitalization, Jane Schmane, Head of Blah, will be covering for Ms. Clinton. We wish Ms. Clinton a speedy and full recovery. That's it. We don't need the details. It's none of our business. Why the hell do we need to know the medical intricacies of a non-family member? Does Hillary Clinton expect a get-well card from us? Should we tweet Bill?

I don't want to know why Bethenny Frankel is getting divorced. Hell, I don't even need to know that she's headed in that direction. Tell when her next book or product debut. The end.

We need to take things down a notch here. I never thought I would spend time thinking about how to be ignorant, but right now, that's the direction I'm headed in. I want to be ignorant of these things.

Behind Turkey's Back

Several months ago, when Turkey realized I had been working for him for over a year, he gave me an "anniversary" gift from the store where his partner works. It was a very nice gift, but completely impractical for me, my home, and my lifestyle. For example, it was over 20 cumbersome lbs of dead weight, and I walk about a mile to get home. The office manager was kind enough to hide it among other boxes in his office for me, while I figured out what to do.

Immediately upon receiving it I (thanked Turkey) knew I wanted to return/exchange it, but had to sort out how to go about that. Didn't want to show up with it at the store and have the partner find out. Because Turkey is not the type to just want me to be happy - he's the type to want me to be happy because of something he did. He would not take it well to find out I went to the store.

At first I kept calling the store, asking for the partner, and then hanging up when an employee would say, "Sure, please hold a moment." Because that meant I couldn't take a taxi and take the thing there to exchange. After about a week of this I was fed up, and tired of prank-calling the store. Next I thought about putting an ad on Craigslist to hire someone to do this for me. When I talked about it with a friend, she said she'd go.

Last week we finally made it happen. I gave her $20 for a cab and directions on how to get there and how to get back home, and called for the freight elevator. Oh, before getting the freight elevator I brought her into Turkey's office to show her a picture of his partner. "Avoid this guy. We don't want him finding out and telling Turkey." An hour later I got a text. "He was the only one there, but didn't bat an eye. Smelled like cat piss though." Well alrighty. I wrote back thanking her, and added that they don't have a cat.

Today was our holiday lunch. Turkey handed out gifts to the four of us. We were given more stuff from his Partner's store. I genuinely liked the cashmere infinity scarf, but not the color. WASP didn't want to trade with me, but that was okay. I saw in Turkey's calendar that he was picking his partner up at 5 pm and decided today would be my adventure to his store.

They closed at 6 pm. I get out of work at 5:30, but left about 15 minutes early. The bus was 18 minutes late. I arrived at the store seven minutes before they closed, with the scarf and the store credit my friend gave me.

You know how in movies, sometimes a character will dramatically peak around a corner to see what's beyond the wall? That was totally me. Even though I had visualized this going smoothly (what? it works for Olympic athletes!), you just never know - maybe Turkey would be meeting his partner at the store for some reason.

But no - that did not happen. I found a nice lady and told her, "I want to exchange one thing for a different color, and have a store credit that I'd like to use to buy something for that exact price." I was totally prepared. This is a high-end store. They are used to people spending four hours there trying to decide what to buy. Not me. It turned out both items were even on the same table.

Start to finish, it was 13 minutes. Two of them were wasted finding someone to help me, and six were wasted trying to make the scanner/computer work. I spent more time waiting for the bus! It's a really lovely store, and I'd love to take my time wandering around touching everything (some time when they're not about to close), but the fact that my boss's partner works there kind of ruins it for me. I have such a difficult relationship with Turkey that I don't want to worry about having to deal with his partner. So handling everything at once and getting out of there quickly makes me very happy.

So! Much! Niceness!

Yesterday on the train during rush hour: I get on a packed train and find myself standing in front of an Asian woman who is sitting. A couple of seconds later the train jerks forward, and I feel a tap, tap, tap on my arm. The woman holds her hands out, and offers to hold my bags for me. Oh. My. Word. How sweet is that?!

Today on the bus during rush hour: I am sitting, and watch two girls who don't know each other. There is one seat across from me on the packed bus. Each girl offers the seat to the other. One girl says, "Oh you go ahead - you have the bigger bag." The other girl says, "No, you take it - I've been sitting all day." I just wanted to hug them both and give up my seat so they could both sit down!

It's Not a Freaking Hurricane

It's kind of moving to see your President wiping away tears. But I've gotta be honest - I was a little disappointed in his initial speech about what happened in Connecticut on Friday. It felt to me like he was talking about the shooting as if it was some sort of natural disaster, that we have zero hope of gaining any control over.

I read a good article in the NY Times that included examples of things that could be done to provide tighter gun control. These things should have been done decades ago. People claim they need to be able to have a gun in case somebody breaks into their home. I'm pretty sure the majority of people breaking into homes are doing so to steal, not to kill.

I don't know about you, but I am not prepared to kill another human being. I have done a lot of really horrible things to people, but that is a line I just don't see crossing. If someone broke into my shitty apartment to steal stuff, well, I can get more stuff. So can you. That's what renter's insurance is for. (Fun fact: I don't have any!) You know how sometimes you get new furniture and invite me over to show it off? Well two seconds after I've done the polite thing of oohing and aahing I've completely forgotten whatever you just told me about your perfectly ordinary-looking beige couch.

What's that? It's your heirloom couch that used to belong to your great Aunt Vernice who's now dead? Well guess what: she'd tell you she never much liked it. She only had it because somebody gave it to her and she was poor. Or whatever. It's just stuff. You don't need a gun to protect yourself from somebody who might break in because you're not prepared to kill a human being over your laptop. If you're smarter than I am you have home owner's or renter's insurance. Consider the fact that police officers are prepared to kill somebody every single day that they go to work, and if they do so in the line of duty, they have to go to mandatory counseling.

It all ties together, when you think about it. Of course this Adam Lanza kid was mentally ill. Of course the only person who would give a mentally ill person access to guns is someone who is mentally ill themselves. Yes that's right - I'm saying his mother was not well in the head. I don't care whether or not she was diagnosed with something - a healthy person does not look at an unhealthy one and give them access to guns. We don't have enough support for the mentally ill, nor do we have enough restrictions on guns. I have ideas on how these two connect, but need to work out some right to privacy issues first.

But tomorrow I am going to my job. It has nothing to do with guns or mentally ill people. It will make people hate him, but it's not like Obama has to worry about re-election anyway, so he may as well piss off tons of gun-toting people by laying down a ton of gun control laws. Including one that says people with a history of mental illness may not purchase guns or have access to them through their job, or through anyone else living in their home. There are all these quotes from people who knew the mother, saying how much she loved her son and would do anything for him. Sure. Anything but get rid of her guns.

The Karma Executioner

The Turkey is tough to work with. He leaves you unsure if you're coming or going. You prepare for a meeting, and somehow wind up getting in trouble. He comes to talk to you about a client, then leaves abruptly in the middle of the discussion, then comes back to ask why you haven't done something else. Um, because you forgot to assign it to me?

On Tuesday we were scheduled to have a staff meeting at 9:30. I arrived at work, promptly printed out our client status sheet that gets reviewed at these meetings, made copies for everyone, and considered myself ready. Turkey did not arrive at the office until slightly after 11am. By that time, everyone had given up on the staff meeting and gone on to do other work. At ten after the hour, Turkey was in the office. He walked around telling everyone we were going to start our meeting now. People were deep in the middle of documents, on the phone with clients, etc. It took a few minutes for everyone to find a stopping point and gather in the conference room. When we got there, Turkey yelled at all of us about how disappointed he was that we weren't all prepared and timely.

One of my coworkers mentioned the feeling of being spun in circles with a blindfold on, multiple times, and then being told to walk a straight line - that feeling of not knowing what direction is straight, not knowing where to aim for first.

Today I had five calls scheduled for Turkey in the afternoon. I rarely know how long each call will take, so I guess and hope for the best. If I know for sure something will turn into a long call, I schedule that one last. This afternoon Turkey showed up for the day around 2:45pm (he had two lunches to go to today, yes two, and no, that's not usual - it's the first time he had two in one day). For the following two hours I kept that man running. Whatever he was doing, I was in his face, holding up a post-it, interrupting to tell him someone was on hold, reminding him a client was expecting his call eight minutes earlier. At one point, Turkey stood outside his office and turned in a slow circle, unsure of what direction to go in. Should he go back in the WASP's office to finish his conversation with her? Meet with the Office Manager to get payroll in on time (yes)? Go pick up the phone?

Our Baby Lawyer saw it and laughed. She told me it was great that he was finally feeling today the way he makes all of us feel on a regular basis. The phrase she used was "karma executioner" when saying how nice it was to see him getting a taste of his own medicine.

Grannies

I just realized today that I assume all old ladies are grannies, but pretty soon I'm going to be one of those old ladies and won't be a granny. Perhaps I should put it on my list of things to change about myself, right below "Say 'you're welcome' instead of 'no problem' and right above "Stop giving dirty looks to idiots who press the button for the wrong floor on the elevator."

Yesterday an old lady showed up at work. One of those super duper oldies who is hunched over at the shoulders and shakes and takes careful steps. She arrived during a very busy moment - four phone lines were ringing and another person was also standing at the counter needing my attention.

Many moons ago I worked at a tennis club that was often swamped and got told, "Always help the person standing in front of you before tending to the phones. That person made the effort to get in their car and come here." I have carried that with me for more than a dozen years. The other person standing there just wanted to serve me (not me personally, but I am allowed to accept service) so it was easy to get rid of him quickly.

The old lady was coming to drop off documents for our subtenant and pick up a letter. I knew this because one of our subtenants had called to ask if she could have me print out a two-page letter for me to give the client. The old lady needed to go through each concept slowly though, and I had all those phone calls holding.

One of the things I learned about old people in Florida is that they are used to be dismissed - they are our throwaways (in America). I didn't want to do that to her. Despite how slow she was, she was kind. I asked if she could give me a second, and I'd be right back to walk her through this. As I blew through calls, it seems she hadn't realized they'd been waiting, so when I got back to her she began to try to rush.

On our reception counter, we have about half a dozen business card stands, all filled with business cards of different attorneys, and she knocked over three of them. I told her not to worry, that I'd get them. You could see how much of an effort it was for her to move, and the idea of her crouching down, balancing to scoop up scattered business cards? No.

Today another old lady showed up, and instantly I smiled at her, "You must be the sister of the lady from yesterday - you look just like her!" She smiled and nodded, and her sister poked her head around to grin at me. They were so cute. They spent a few hours in our office, dropping their canes, slowly and carefully going up and down the stairs to my sunken living room to use the restroom, and when they were leaving they both wished me a happy Thanksgiving in case they didn't see me again. Then the first one I'd met yesterday reached out to me saying, "I'm sorry again about the cards yesterday; I was so embarrassed."

I waved my hand and told her, "I've already forgotten it happened," which of course wasn't true. It was was surprising to hear she was embarrassed. Anyone could have that happen. For some reason I always think of old people as not getting embarrassed anymore. Like they're above it, or something.

Messenger

Oh Turkey. You're Pigpen, in real life. You know it, and you aren't even ashamed of it. You don't care. Let's review what happened today, shall we? We normally have a staff meeting on Mondays at 9:30 wait let's stop. Staff meetings are scheduled for then, but they never start at that time. Why? Because of you, Turkey. Because you never arrive at the office then. Let's proceed. We all thought we weren't having the staff meeting this morning because you called an impromptu one last Friday. We were wrong though - you wanted one today. So we were all ready today at 9:25. All of us except you. You rolled into the office at 10:20 and asked if everybody was ready. Um, yes Turkey. The meeting went quickly since everything had been discussed one working day prior to today. Then you called me into your office.

"I did something really stupid, and I need you to help me." I nodded at you with wide and confident eyes. I have perfected this look. This look that says tell me all about how much of a fuckup you are, and I will not laugh to your face. Instead, I will fix it for you. Then I will race home to blog about it. 

Turkey, what have you done now? You drove to work and forgot your briefcase? The briefcase that has all the work you did over the weekend? Oh, and also the work you needed to finish up and get out to clients today? You're giving me what now? Your garage door opener and a key? You're giving me both because you can't remember if you left your briefcase on the floor of the garage or in the vestibule inside the locked door? Okay. I will call a messenger, have them come to the office to fetch these, then go to your house where they are to use one or both to find your briefcase. Upon fetching it, they are to close the garage door and bring the briefcase, garage door opener and key back to the office? Oh, and you drew me a diagram of where in their house they can go? Fine.

I call the messenger service. They send a guy. Who takes over an hour to get to our office. I hand him the stuff, and explain the diagram. He leaves. He returns with a briefcase and the stuff. I thank him. Turkey what did you say when I handed you the briefcase? That's right - you moaned, "Oh nooooo! That's the wrong briefcase! This is my laptop! How could he not tell that's a laptop briefcase?"

Turkey, because this is my blog, let me be honest with you here. I couldn't tell from the outside that the briefcase is a laptop briefcase. And that dude is a messenger. He rides a fucking bike for a living. You really think he's well-versed in different types of briefcases? No. No he is not.

So Turkey, in your infinite wisdom, tell me to get a messenger back, and this time, when they come to the office, they are to talk to you directly. Because of all of a sudden you are now magically able to recall exactly where the proper bag is in your house. Or your garage. So I call the messenger service. The woman goes silent. "It's okay to laugh, this whole thing is kind of ridiculously funny," I urge her. She laughs. We laugh together. I tell Office Manager what's going on, hand him the garage door opener and key, and leave for lunch.

When I get back to the building, Turkey you are standing in the lobby talking on your cell phone. I smile at you, and you gesture wildly at me. I nod wisely and proceed to the elevator, completely unsure of what you were trying to communicate to me. In our penthouse, I ask Office Manager what's going on. He tells me the messenger arrived, Turkey wasn't there, and since their instructions had been to talk to Turkey before going to his house and he's not there to talk with, they refused to go, and left our office. To say I laughed would be an understatement.

When you came upstairs Turkey, you were told this. Your solution was to announce that you would leave to go home and work from there in 15 minutes, and then promptly go to the bathroom. Where you dropped two sets of keys, which Office Manager was kind enough to pick up and get back to you, though you didn't acknowledge, let alone thank him. According to what had just happened you should have left the office by 2:50 (I took a late lunch).

Turkey, you left to begin work for the day at 4:45 p.m. Now I know this time change has screwed up a lot of people, but this is ridiculous. Let's pull our shit together and to better tomorrow, hmmm?