I Have No Words

My parents were told about my blog. They've seen it.

No LA Vacation in April

This is what happened.

Last week I got approval to take time off in April. I let my brother know that same day. On Sunday while I was in LA, CG booked a ticket for my flight there in April. During the last three days, I blogged from LA, using my brother's laptop. It's the only computer in the house. Today, I got a voicemail from CG saying they won't need me in April after all. I wrote to her, asking if I got fired, and if so, why. She said I did, and basically said she didn't have time to discuss it since she was at work, but asking that I not bother my brother "in his fragile state" about it. She referenced her "mal-treated dog," and said that I broke her trust and hurt her feelings very deeply.

Here's what I think happened: CG saw my blog on the history of my brother's laptop, saw the Playa List, and saw that I said she treats her dog horribly.

In my mind, feeding a dog "people food" simply because a dog is begging for it, when any vet worth their degree will tell you it's best to keep that to a minimum, is wrong. In my mind, feeding a dog "people food" even after your dog threw up after eating other "people food" is wrong. In my mind, holding a dog when it makes it clear it wants to get away, for your own amusement, is wrong. In my mind, putting bows in a dog's hair because YOU think it looks cute and it amuses YOU, an adult, even when it's clearly bothering the dog, is wrong.

That's what I meant when I said CG treats her dog horribly. In retrospect (and admittedly, I'm only having this retrospect because I think CG read that), it is not treating a dog "horribly" to do what she does. Horrible treatment of a dog is beating it, abandoning it, starving it, etc. I know for a fact none of these things happen to the dog while in CG's care. I know that CG honestly loves the dog very much. I know that she was the one who was so upset at how the dog was being (un)cared for at her mother's house that she took it and just announced to my brother that she was arriving home with a dog.

I suppose that her way of showing that love is different than the way I show love for a dog. I suppose that the bottom line is really that it's her dog, and she can treat it however she wants. So, I'm going to change what I wrote in the Playa List.

CG, if I am right, and you did read that, I'm truly sorry that your feeling were very hurt. That was not my intent at all. Regardless of our relationship, I would never want to hurt somebody that my brother cares so much about. We are both very different, we KNOW we have very different priorities, viewpoints, and standards (we've talked about many of them almost every time we've gotten together), and I did not mean to hurt your feelings by posting what I did. I only meant to vent my frustration at seeing things that hurt me to see.

Bla, Bla, Bla

http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2006/02/16/2_e_mailers_get_testy_and_hundreds_readevery_word/

Not only the stupidest career move I've seen in ages, but she also spelled "blah" incorrectly. Suffolk Law School, huh?

What I don't get is, between her inability to spell and her graduation from a... what is Suffolk, a fourth tier law school... how did she get that huge ego that allowed her to respond that way? What is her ego based on? That's what I'd like to understand.

Excuse Me, Could I Take a Picture of Your Pancakes?

My brother and I both share the same white trash characteristic - we both like IHoP. My brother actually lives above one, and we decided to get brunch there this morning.

We were sitting there eating our food and chatting, when the guy who'd been sitting across from us walked over to me and said, "Excuse me. Could I take a picture of your pancakes?"

I looked at my brother, who smirked. I replied, "Sure, if it would make you happy."

"Oh, it would make me VERY happy. I like the way you prepared them."

So he held his camera over my plate, took a picture, thanked me, and walked off with a skip in his step and a smile on his face.

When my brother and I finished laughing hysterically, I told him, "I think this was definitely the absolute highlight of my trip."

Peace, Calmness and Waiting For the World to Hurry the Fuck Up!

It seemed like I spent all day yesterday waiting. I kept moving and doing things, but all the while, I was waiting for someone else, something else.

Yesterday my brother's heart surgery was supposed to start at 8 a.m. The wait until 2 p.m. when I got the call that Golden Boy's surgery was over and he was okay took forever. Sure, I kept busy at work, but still. Six hours is six hours. It's a long time when you're waiting to hear that someone got through surgery.

On my lunch hour, I rushed home to finish packing for my weekend trip to LA (hi from LA!). When I got back to work, Tunafish was nowhere to be found. By 3 p.m. he had still not shown up. His wife called four times. The Cowboy was in a bad mood and looking for him. I needed his input before I could work on a project. Waiting. Tuna strolled in apologizing for having forgotten to take his cell phone.

From work, I went directly to the airport. Friday night, from SF to LA, at the start of a three-day weekend, raining in both cities. You bet your ass my flight was delayed. By over two hours. That's okay, I can wait. Eh, not so much. I was supposed to land at LAX and take a cab directly to the hospital my brother is staying at. Because I wouldn't have gotten to the hospital until after 11 p.m., I decided I'd go to my brother's house instead.

I was in a taxi within ten minutes of landing at LAX. The cabbie crossed himself three times and mumbled in Russian. It took us over a half hour to get out of the airport. I thought the cab driver was going to go ...cabbal? Is there a word for "postal" for cab drivers? Throughout the entire trip, he cursed and mumbled in Russian. At one point he seemed so upset that I actually considered getting out and finding a different, more sane, cab driver. Then I realized something. This cab driver drove through a red light, almost crashed into a bus, a telephone pole, and an SUV. He cursed at people, shook his fist at them, and told me "all these people? No good drivers!" Really, it was like being in a New York taxi, and nothing's better than feeling a little New York when you're far from home. I relaxed, and waited.

Eventually I got to downtown LA, and found my brother's apartment. Where I was greeted by his dog. Who was everything a dog is supposed to be. Happy to see me.

If you're not a dog person, you just won't understand this. I grew up with a dog. I miss having a dog (no, I can't get one now) more than words can describe. I am beyond jealous that my brother and his girlfriend have a dog. Luckily, their dog loves me. I think she knows Golden Boy and I are related. Although she doesn't gaze adoringly at me like she does at Golden Boy, she gazes out contently when I'm petting her. Within five minutes of arriving, I was sitting on the couch with a dog in my lap. It was, for me, the perfect way to relax at the end of a stressful day.

And now? I've been up since 6:48 a.m. I'm dressed, and waiting for Crazy Girl to wake up so we can go to the hospital. Even the dog is still sleeping.

That's okay. I'll just wait. I've had a lot of practice lately.

Really? You Don't Say!

People at work (yes, yet another work post, sorry) are slowly finding out that there's been a switch of support staff in our little corner. I'm seeing some very interesting reactions. Share them? You betcha!

The accounting woman in charge of billing came to stand at the side of my desk, with a frantic look on her face.

GY: Can I help you with something?
AW: Yes
GY: What can I help you with?
AW: A post-it

AW writes "When did this happen? I can't work with her!"
GY writes back "Monday. Heh. Good luck"
AW writes "Why?"

I suggest we go into her office. I tell her what happened. I tell her I worry that Cowboy hated me and forced Tuna to take me, and he wanted LEL. I tell her I hope that really Tuna couldn't stand LEL, so Cowboy offered to take her. AW tells me that LEL got kicked out of working upstairs (I knew she'd previously worked for another attorney on another floor, but knew no details). AW tells me that LEL gets flustered easily, that she screws up everything she touches. I tell AW that I feel like compared to LEL, everyone thinks I'm unfriendly and rude, because she's so chatty and perky. AW says nobody can stand her perkiness and everyone upstairs complained about how much and how loudly she talked. I tell AW that I feel like the Cowboy likes LEL better than me because her desk is so much neater than mine. AW says her desk is neat because nobody gives her any work. She tells me she's sure that the Cowboy will start giving me work to do, simply because it'll be easier for him to get what he needsd across to me. Fascinating!

Next conversation I have is with the file clerk. Not about LEL, but just how things are going in general. I mention that it amuses me that the Cowboy stands at LEL's desk and repeatedly shushes her. Apropos of nothing, the file clerk tells me LEL was fired from upstairs for saying something racial. HOLY SHIT! The file clerk tells me that when a mutual friend of all three of ours talks about it, she always refers to it as a firing. Who knew?!

So, it's been an interesting week.

Yet Another Thank You

Ever since Opinionista linked to my blog, my readership has skyrocketed. So, thank you, Opinionista .

I wanted to reply to some of the questions and points raised in the recent comments.

Ladybugg, you asked about my new bra. Uhhh… I’m not quite that open, so I’ll e-mail you to give you the details.
Winey, it’s not easy to be green OR yogurty. But I press on nonetheless, and tell you guys all about it so we can all be entertained (or bored to tears, whichever).
To all who commented on my Bring Your Blog Readers To Work Day I just want to reiterate that I was talking about some of the highlights of my almost-decade of legal secretary work. The guys I work for now are great to me.
Sherri – I too love those polite yet nasty letters, and am entertained by them.
Anonymous Commenter who referenced Charlie – my brother’s legal secretary does that to him all the time. It drives him nuts and he does a lot of his own work too.
Anonymous Commenter Who Asked How I Know LEL Surfs the Net All Day (we need a shorter name for you) – I know because my back is to the hallway when I’m facing my computer, so every time I hear somebody walking towards me, I turn to look. LEL’s screen is in my line of sight and she is always reading celebrity gossip or her Hotmail. Even the Cowboy knows.
CG (*not* CrazyGirl) – I totally hear you on having promised myself I’d never treat people like that when I get to the top. My promise to myself is that I’ll know how to do every job I hire others to do. I would be so embarrassed to be the president of the company, but not know how to make a copy on the fax machine.
Brandi – I’m so glad I wasn’t a nightmare client
Sally – your wish is my command. And by “my”, I mean I asked Brandi to do it, and she did. The RSS feed is on the right, all because you asked.
Douglas –Feel free to ask Brandi, though please understand that now she’s back to doing work for clients who actually pay, so she may not be able to get back to you.
Sherlyberly – thanks, and warm wishes to you too.
T – usually being a member of my tribe means you’re Jewish, but I understand in this instance it just means you’re also a legal secretary. J Unless you’re a Jewish legal secretary…
Applegreen – I *am* feeling fine now, thanks!
Catherine, Opinionated Muff, and Brandi – Please see my next work-related post – I think you just may be on to something here.
Steve – I wish a raise was in the cards, but for now, I’m happy to settle for getting time off in April.
Student Nurse Jack/Winey – props for not being a wuss!

Mrs. Eaton is Dead Now

Today I was putting documents into a looseleaf binder and almost forgot to look as I closed the binder. I moved my hand just before the silver rings snapped closed, and I was instantly reminded of a day in elementary school.

One afternoon when I was in kindergarten, I didn't feel well and got sent to the nurse's office. Mrs. Eaton had me sit on the cot while she did whatever it is school nurses do (dispense ice packs? dispense Band-Aids? let students take power naps?). Then two "big girls" from fourth grade came in - one of them had caught the skin between her thumb and pointer while closing her looseleaf and needed ... ice?

I had previously looked up to these big girls who were so very cool with their looseleafs. I longed for an ugly blue looseleaf with stickers to carry around the hallways like they did. To realize one of them had hurt herself simply because she hadn't paid attention completely knocked her off the pedestal I'd put her on. I vowed to pay enough attention to what I was doing so that I wouldn't get injured.*

Mrs. Eaton finished with the big girls and sent them back to class before turning her attention to me. She decided I would live and instructed me to put the icepack back in the freezer before going back to class. I hopped off the cot and tried to open the freezer. I was five years old. The freezer door was stuck and I couldn't open it. I asked Mrs. Eaton for help. She told me to pull harder. So I pulled with all the strength my five year old body could muster up. And I tipped the whole fucking thing forward. Somehow I realized what was about to happen and managed to body slam the freezer back against the wall before it squished me. But the glass coffee pot sitting on top of the freezer slid forward and fell to the floor near my feet and broke into tiny pieces. I was lucky it didn't break on top of my head.

I was mortified beyond belief. I apologized profusely to Mrs. Eaton. I told her I would ask my mother if we had an extra coffee pot we could bring her. I apologized again. I wanted to cry. Mrs. Eaton yelled at me to just go back to class. I was still holding the icepack and didn't know what to do with it. I started to ask, but she yelled at me to get out. So I put the icepack on her desk, apologized yet again, and ran back to my classroom.

For the rest of the year whenever we saw Mrs. Eaton in the hallways, I was too embarrassed to say hello to her like all the other kids did. I was sure she hated me. All because I broke her coffee pot. Mrs. Eaton retired at the end of the year.

*I haven't caught my fingers in a looseleaf yet.

Mrs. Eaton is Dead Now

Today I was putting documents into a looseleaf binder and almost forgot to look as I closed the binder. I moved my hand just before the silver rings snapped closed, and I was instantly reminded of a day in elementary school.

One afternoon when I was in kindergarten, I didn't feel well and got sent to the nurse's office. Mrs. Eaton had me sit on the cot while she did whatever it is school nurses do (dispense ice packs? dispense Band-Aids? let students take power naps?). Then two "big girls" from fourth grade came in - one of them had caught the skin between her thumb and pointer while closing her looseleaf and needed ... ice?

I had previously looked up to these big girls who were so very cool with their looseleafs. I longed for an ugly blue looseleaf with stickers to carry around the hallways like they did. To realize one of them had hurt herself simply because she hadn't paid attention completely knocked her off the pedestal I'd put her on. I vowed to pay enough attention to what I was doing so that I wouldn't get injured.

Mrs. Eaton finished with the big girls and sent them back to class before turning her attention to me. She decided I would live and instructed me to put the icepack back in the freezer before going back to class. I hopped off the cot and tried to open the freezer. I was five years old. The freezer door was stuck and I couldn't open it. I asked Mrs. Eaton for help. She told me to pull harder. So I pulled with all the strength my five year old body could muster up. And I tipped the whole fucking thing forward. Somehow I realized what was about to happen and managed to body slam the freezer back against the wall before it squished me. But the glass coffee pot sitting on top of the freezer slid forward and fell to the floor near my feet and broke into tiny pieces. I was lucky it didn't break on top of my head.

I was mortified beyond belief. I apologized profusely to Mrs. Eaton. I told her I would ask my mother if we had an extra coffee pot we could bring her. I apologized again. I wanted to cry. Mrs. Eaton yelled at me to just go back to class. I was still holding the icepack and didn't know what to do with it. I started to ask, but she yelled at me to get out. So I put the icepack on her desk, apologized yet again, and ran back to my classroom.

For the rest of the year whenever we saw Mrs. Eaton in the hallways, I was too embarrassed to say hello to her like all the other kids did. I was sure she hated me. All because I broke her coffee pot. Mrs. Eaton retired at the end of the year.

I haven't caught my fingers in a looseleaf yet.

Quick Work Update

Monday:
Spoke with the Cowboy and he assured me this does not have to be permanent, we're just trying things out. If I get swamped, I am to tell him and he will change assignments again. He is not taking the random projects LEL handles to give to me (I didn't want them). I will finish up the projects I've put massive amounts of time and brain power into, which is what I wanted.
Today:
As of this afternoon, we've officially switched attorneys. All three involved seem like lost little boys, and can't figure out who to ask for what. I'm hoping they'll sort themselves out by the end of this week, if not sooner. Spoke with Tuna, and it's clear we're going to work together swimmingly. No worries at all.

April time off:
I asked all three guys via e-mail. Two out of three have given the green light, just awaiting a response from Tuna. I'm sure he'll say yes, and just hasn't gotten around to it.

Tuesdays are my favorite day of the week.

Work Happening

On Friday afternoon the Cowboy called a meeting with LEL, Tunafish and me. He told LEL and me that our department is growing and he wants us to be very capable of working well together (meaning everyone in the department, not just LEL and I). Towards that end, he's changing who we support. While I used to work for two partners - Cowboy and Nice Partner - now I'm going to work for Nice Partner and Tuna (an associate). LEL will work for Cowboy. Cowboy said this was a promotion for both of us. He said it will make our department stronger, more unified. I call bullshit. The Cowboy asked that we think about this whole thing over the weekend and get back to him on Monday. LEL said right away that she was happy to do it (of course she is, working for a partner is a promotion for her), it was fine with her, she didn't need to think about it. The two of them then looked at me. I smiled at the Cowboy, and he smiled back and nodded. Yeah, I'm not that easy. Apparently, I'm forever the difficult child. Oh well.

Here's what I think really happened. Tuna, who's been having problems with LEL, probably complained finally, to Cowboy. Cowboy likes Tuna, sees Tuna moving in a partner direction, and, wanting to keep Tuna, says "Tuna, I like you. So here's what I'm going to do for you. I'll take Loose Earlobe Lady, since I'm practically never in the office anyway. I'll give you Green."
At least, that's what I hope happened.

I'm bummed about this. Sure, I like Tuna a lot, and I'm happy to work with him. But I feel like everything was all just coming together at work. On Thursday and Friday I got through a few things that were about to make work much easier. Plus, I've noticed that on the days when Nice Partner is running me ragged with work, Tuna is often trying to get tons of work cranked out for Cowboy. So my concern is that I'm going to be killing myself trying to get everything done for both of them. When I raised this issue with the Cowboy, he said "Hey, that's the beauty of what we're doing here - if you need help, LEL will be there for you." It's not like I could tell him how much she sucks and is useless.

After talking with my father (bad advice) and my brother (better advice), here's what I think I'm going to tell the Cowboy tomorrow:
1. I love working at this firm (true).
2. I love working with him and the Nice Partner, and they're in the top four of my favorite attorneys I've ever worked for in about ten years (also true).
3. Although I feel like I'm just hitting my stride and things have just started coming together (true), I'm happy to do whatever the Cowboy thinks is best for the department, because I'm a team player (bullshit).
4. I really like Tunafish, am really psyched to work with him on a day-to-day basis, and will do my best to make sure the transition goes well (true).
5. I still have the concern I raised Friday, that I'll get slammed with work from Nice Partner and Tuna (I'll just say 'and LEL won't be available to help out') and be on my own with that.
6. Could he please clarify for me exactly what the division of labor will be, and I'll give examples of things I'm not clear on (there are things LEL and I do for the department and I'm not sure if we're switching those).
7. I just want to make sure that I'm not being demoted, and that this change is not a reflection of the Cowboy's unhappiness with my work product.

And then I'll ask for the April time off. Maybe. Wish me luck.

"Hey, Thanks For BEING This Morning"

1. The more you have, the less it hurts when something bad is going on. I had an awful day yesterday. Last night I got a book and a note in the mail from a friend. The title of this entry is a direct quote from a friend who said it to me this morning. I'm going to lunch with a work friend today, and just made tentative plans with someone else for this weekend. That's a lot of friend stuff for me. Not in an overwhelming way, but in an emotional hug kind of way. In Florida I could go for months on end without having plans with anyone other than my grandfather. Yesterday sucked, but I'm almost over it, in large part due to friends.

2. The more you have (and the higher quality those friendships are), the less it hurts when one friend says or does something hurtful. Not that I write a friend off when they hurt my feelings, so I don't care when a friend hurts me. I do care, but I don't need to worry that I'm compromising my values because they're the only friend I've got. I've got others now. That's giving me the confidence to deal with the relationship the way I want to, the way I know I should, not the way someone whose friendship eggs are all in one basket being tightly held by someone else.

"The Beast In Me"

Today was an awful day. I don't know if it was because of the full moon, PMS, or just plain too many bad things happening at once. What I do know is that from about 11 a.m. until a half hour ago, I was both in a rage, and struggling not to cry. I'm exhausted now!

Everything made me furious. The sound of LEL pouring M&Ms into her little bowl. The fact that my outfit didn't look the way I thought it would but didn't have time to change before work. When a co-worker reminded me we're supposed to have lunch tomorrow and I realized I'd forgotten. The noise the Office Services people were making while I was making copies. The rudeness of the traffic lights to not be green in my favor. When the guy bumped into my bag as I was on my way home. How much mail was in my mailbox.

I hate when I'm like that. I hate feeling out of control of my own behavior. I hate feeling myself glaring at people I normally like. I hate when I prepare the wrong document by accident and then convince myself I'm getting fired. I hate that seeing both my bosses in a closed door meeting makes me feel sure the firing is today. I hate that when the Cowboy left early today I immediately thought it was because he didn't want to be around when HR fired me. I didn't get fired today (though I also couldn't make myself ask for the April time off).

I couldn't concentrate on anything today. It took Herculean efforts to speak without cursing. I had to come home on my lunch hour to cry. I could not pull my shit together to calm down and focus. The only option was to keep my head down, keep quiet, try to just get through the afternoon saying as little as possible, and keep a mental list of every person I pissed off, so I'd know who needed an apology when it blew over.

The rage has calmed down now, and the beast has quieted inside me.

The beast in me

Is caged by frail and fragile bonds

Restless by day

And by night, rants and rages at the stars

God help, the beast in me

The beast in me

Has had to learn to live with pain

And how to shelter from the rain

And in the twinkling of an eye

Might have to be restrained

God help the beast in me

Sometimes

It tries to kid me that it's just a teddy bear

Or even somehow managed

To vanish in the airAnd that is when I must beware

Of the beast in me

That everybody knows

They've seen him out dressed in my clothes

Patently unclearIf it's New York or New Year

God help the beast in me

The beast in me

--by Nick Lowe, Beast In Me

The Good, The Bad and a Little 411

The good: LEL didn't show up at work until noon today.
The bad: the floater who sat in for her was just as loud as LEL usually is.

The bad: My brother had to push a car when it died on him. Yes, that's right - the same brother who's had one heart surgery and is scheduled for a second surgery in less than two weeks from now.
The good: He said it was much easier than he thought it would be (Mercedes, not his), and his defibrillator did not shock him.

A Little 411: My brother asked me if I'd like to be flown out to LA to house and dog sit while he goes to Mexico (during Passover). Like he even had to ask. All I have to do is get clearance at work to take the vacation time, and my brother will book my flights. I keep trying to have just ONE day where I don't screw something up for either guy I work for, so that I can feel comfortable about asking for a favor.
The good: today I finally didn't make any mistakes!
The bad: The Cowboy didn't come in today at all.

Think I can not screw up two days in a row? I'm hoping so. I'd like to be blogging from LA come April.

An Overdue Thank You

Thank you to all of you who have complimented me on my new blog. It's very pretty, and I love it a lot. If a little birdie tapped you on the shoulder and whispered to you that I've been caught gazing adoringly at my blog, it would be wrong to call that birdie a liar.

Part of what I love about my blog is how it looks. But another part of what I love about it is that this was an idea in my head for months before it came to exist. I'm creative, but not very artistic, nor do I have everything I need to bring my creations to fruition. So, though I've choreographed an entire ballet in my head, I don't have access to a ballet company. Though I've created episode upon episode of various television programs, I don't have access to a production team or to the cast of Growing Pains, NY Undercover, Friends, or the OC.

A friend of mine is a graphic designer. We don't really talk about her work too often, because it has a tendency to not go well. Example: she is working on a project, and will forward me three possible designs for a company that's hired her. I will give her one of the following answers:
1. I see no difference between any of them, but don't like that shade of green.
2. Three is my favorite with two as runner-up, but whatever you do, don't pick one (one will be her favorite).
3. I like the shape of the letters in two but the color of the letters in three if they were just a tiny bit darker and then mixed with yellow (or something equally ridiculous that she can't do).

Yeah, I'm one of those bluntly forward people. To be honest, I'm always surprised when she asks for my opinion, and turn into Sally Field. "You really want MY opinion? You're sure? I'm just me!" I've tried to get better about my answers. I'm still working on it. I don't bullshit my friends and tell them what will make them feel good, if it's not the truth.

So when she offered to re-do my blog for me, I was a little hesitant to accept the offer. We're both sort of perfectionists, and very opinionated. How can there be a right or wrong when it comes to creativity? She was going to work for me, but I wasn't technically a client, since I wasn't paying her. I was worried working together this way would damage, if not altogether ruin, our friendship. It didn't occur to me that a few times I've babysat for her daughter for free, but haven't changed my level of care based on the pay.

She kept offering, and I really wanted to be proud of my blog, so I ultimately jumped at the opportunity. I tried to explain how I wanted it to look. I'm not sure I explained myself well. I swore to her that if I just had some crayons and blank paper, I could (badly) draw out how I wanted the blog to look.

One night when I was babysitting and her daughter was asleep, I helped myself to the crayons. In ten minutes my crude sketch was complete. I left it on top of my friend's laptop. I e-mailed her a document with lists of sites I wanted links to. She asked me a couple of questions. I told her I saw no difference between options she gave me. I tried her patience by thinking of things at the last minute that I wanted done. She dug in and persisted. I tried very hard not to be her Most Difficult Client Who Wasn't Even Paying. I came close to telling her to forget the whole thing more than once.

But then she showed me the shell of My New Blog. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. To finally see something in real life that I'd created in my head was mind-blowing. For a quarter of a second I wanted to become a graphic artist, because I imagine my friend has moments like that all the time.

At one point, she even attempted to teach me HTML when the subject came up. Initially I resisted being taught, because I am not good at learning computer stuff, and it often ends with me crying. But again, she persisted. She was sure it was simple enough and I was smart enough to understand some basics. So with her toddler interrupting or climbing on us, she gave me an HTML 101 lesson. And I actually understood her. Without crying. My father would be so
proud. Even though I haven't applied what she taught me yet, I will. It's coming - look out.

So Brandi, thank you. A trillion times over. I love my new blog. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for finding a font I like, the shades of green and blue I like, spending the hours it took to move all the archives over, everything.
If you want to hire Brandi you can get in touch with her Here

Bring Your Blog Readers To Work Day

I've been a legal secretary for almost a decade. Some attorneys I've worked with have been great, and I've busted my ass for them. Some have been horrible, and they've broken my spirit a few times. Here are some highlights from my side of the pony wall over the years:

1. The attorney is about to have lunch delivered. As I sit at my desk, working through my lunch hour and eating my salad I brought from home because I can't afford to eat lunch out, he asks if I have change. As I think of the coins in my middle drawer, he whips out a hundred dollar bill and asks if I can break that. No fucker, I can't break a $100 bill! I've never had a $100 bill in my life. Go ask another rich attorney you arrogant prick. (I'm neither bitter, nor jealous.)

2. I've been called the name of every wife and former secretary the attorney has ever had.

3. I slave over the wording of a difficult letter, and then have to put in time for the attorney that says "Review and respond to letter from opposing counsel." YOU didn't do that, I did that!

4. You, the attorney, are hiding from a partner. That partner keeps calling me asking for you. You, are standing in front of my desk mouthing "I'm not here!" but then get angry at me when I tell the partner "I'm sorry, he's stepped away from his desk for a moment." What? You wanted me to say "I'm sorry, he was in a furious e-mail fight with his girlfriend, then his mom called, then he went to get coffee with the hot baby attorney who sits next to him, and when you called he was trying to figure out the formatting of a memo he was going to start drafting to you"? Yeah, I didn't think so.

5. You give me six boxes filled with random papers and redwelds and ask me to organize them. After I've been slaving away at that all morning, you decide to let me know it may be two totally unrelated cases. Then you ask what the hell I've been doing all morning.

6. You give me Project #1. You interrupt Project #1 to ask me to copy a document for you. When I give you back the original and copies, you hand me Project #2. As I walk back to my desk, my phone is ringing. It's you, asking me to find you a phone number. As I recite the phone number for you, you hang up on me to take a call from someone more important. I go back to your office to give you the phone number written on a piece of paper. You silently shove Project #3 at me. I get back to my desk and you yell for Project #1. When I tell you I'm working on it, you ask for Project #2. When I tell you it's next in line after I complete Project #1, you ask what the hell I've been doing all afternoon.

7. You are paranoid, and feel what you do is nobody's business. Therefore, even though you're on vacation for the next two weeks, every morning I am to open your door and turn on the lights in your office. When I put your time for those vacation days into the billing system as 0/Vacation, you yell at me. I explain that Accounting needs to know this, you insist it's nobody's business.

8. You are scared of your clients, never take their calls, and never call them back. They yell at me, and threaten to tell on me for "obviously never giving the attorney my many messages" even though they also refuse to leave you a voice mail. I tell you this, and you tell me it's my job to take your phone calls.

9. Your friends call for you, and tell me I sound hot, tell me I sound like I'm 12 years old, tell me weird names you used to call each other when you were drunk fraternity brothers that will make you laugh when you see the message. I'm busy, you fucker - can't you see #6?

10. You throw files at me. Not at my desk, not into my waiting hands, but AT me.

11. Despite the fact that I go to you at 4:30 p.m. to ask what else you need to accomplish before the end of the day, invariably at 4:58 p.m. you unearth a project from the bottom of your Inbox that's been there since the morning and decide it must be worked on Right Away. By me. Even though I told you I had plans after work.

12. You throw out the list of office extensions because it's easier for you to call and ask me what Jane's extension is. 427 times each day.

13. You ask me to get you a coffee at Starbucks but don't lay out the money for it, and I waste ten minutes going around to other secretaries asking each one for a quarter. It never ever occurs to you to just give me $10 and tell me to get a coffee for myself also. The one day each month I treat myself to a coffee, you ask why I didn't pick one up for you also.

14. You tell me you're running out to grab a quick lunch ten minutes before you have a meeting with the managing partner, which I remind you about. You do not take your Crackberry or cell phone and are gone for over two hours.

15. You pick your nose, your wedgies, and scratch your balls in front of me.

16. You have me call the parents of every member of your son's Little League team to tell them a practice is canceled, and then yell at me because you gave me the wrong date.

17. You interrogate me like the prosecuting attorney you are. What are you interrogating me about? Why I've gone to the restroom at the same time of day for the last three days. I'm not a machine dammit - I'm human, and I get my period once a month.

18. You go through my personal drawer and help yourself to my fancy Bath & Body Works lotion.

19. You don't know how to spell demurrer.

20. You know my salary is under $30,000, and I currently don't have health insurance even though it's offered, because I can't afford it. Yet you make fun of me for never having been out of the country, not knowing how first class seating in airplanes work, and other things that only someone with money would know. That's right, the fanciest restaurant I've ever been to is Outback. Morton's is where I'll go for my 10th anniversary. Welcome to my world, where Sunday mornings really are spent cutting out coupons from the newspaper.

21. You do not pay my cell phone bill, yet get angry with me that yesterday when I was at jury duty, I did not keep my cell phone on at all times in case you had a crisis. A crisis, you know, like not being able to find the orange your wife had the housekeeper lovingly pick from your orange tree in the backyard. Because I would have known the answer to that. You, the attorney, seem to forget that cell phones MUST be turned off inside courthouses.

22. You give me dirty looks when I do not follow your incomplete directions. Remember the time I was in your office and you told me to close the door? But when I did that you yelled at me because you'd meant for me to leave and close the dooor behind me, but you hadn't given any indication you were finished taking papers out of your Inbox and handing them to me. I thought it was reasonable to assume you were going to tell me something confidential, sorry. Bastard.

Love my job, can't wait to see you Monday!