Two Pauses

Went to the Farmer's Market this morning. Got french toast with mixed fruit. It's very good. One of the girls who works there looks like Lindsay Lohan.

Then I stopped at a honey stand and was looking at the honey sticks. They have all different flavors. A man was pushing his baby's stroller into my leg, and I thought it was causing me to have a hard time understanding the sign I was reading.

HONEY STICKS

1 stick = $1
2 sticks = $1
3 sticks = $1

Why would one cost the same as three? What was I missing? I asked the lady in charge. Apparently, they just don't want to deal with coins. You may buy a minimum of $1 worth of honey sticks. No less. If you choose to only take one, that's up to you, but three is fine with them. I got six for $2. Strawberry, watermelon, banana, rootbeer, grape, and blueberry. I hope they're good.

Then I came home and heard a car accident, so I opened my window and looked down. A car tried to come out of the garage across from my building and rammed into oncoming traffic. That oncoming traffic car got pushed into a car going in the opposite direction. Three cars. Two guys standing on the street. 30 seconds had passed. Where's the third person? I called 911. As I was giving the location of the accident, the third guy got out of his car.

911 - "Does it look like anyone's hurt?"
GY - "They're all standing and talking and I don't see blood or anything, but I'm X stories up."
911 - "Well they need to exchange information. We don't routinely send police out to a car accident. We'll send an ambulance only if someone's hurt."

REALLY?! Shocking! Because in New York, it's against the law to leave the scene of a car accident until the police have shown up and filled out a police report and said you can go.

I'm a little disappointed in the state of California on this one.

Nobody's Wearing Coral

From: Grandma, Fashion
Sent: Thursday, July 27, 2006 4:53 PM
To: Grandma, Weather; Lady, Cat; Yogurt, Green; #2, Friend; Grandma-who-sits-far-down-the-hallway-and-I'm-not-sure-why-she's-on-this-list-when-other-closer-Grandmas-arent
Subject: Friday attire

Jeans and coral top.

How I Know For Sure That the Heat Wave Is Ending

Not only did I get cold tonight for the first time in over a week, but the faucet is finally providing cool water. 'bout time!

The Four Dirtiest Words Said In An Office

That's Not My Job

One of the file clerks responded with that when I asked her to help me find a document she'd filed that Nice Partner needed. I hadn't told her Nice Partner needed it. Just that I did. Her response was, "That's not my job." Then she proceeded to tell me I should look where the file was kept. Say it with me now, DUH. The file consists of about eight file drawers, all filled with badly labled (not by me) redwelds.

Funny how she sang a different tune twenty minutes later when she walked by and saw Nice Partner and I frantically looking through files to find what we needed. She pretended she'd come by to check on us and see if we needed help. Nice Partner wasn't fooled, but we were on such a tight deadline that he didn't care. Ultimately the document was found, stapled to something it didn't belong with. It was filed years before I started working here.

I have never said "It's not my job" at work. I used to say it all the time growing up, in my house. "Green, please empty the dishwasher." "That's not my job; it's Goldenboy's." Somehow, although I can see now how obnoxious it is, it still seems like a normal thing for a kid to say at home to a parent.

But this is work. I think if I were a manager and heard someone say that, I would strongly consider firing them. It's one thing to say "I'm in the middle of a huge project right now or I would, but the best person to help you with that is Joe Bloggs." But you NEVER EVER just blurt out that something is not your job. How does this woman not know this? Is this part of why she's still a file clerk?

Friend No. 2 is also a file clerk. (I've emotionally detached with success.) Ironically, even though she doesn't work on any of the files I work on, she is ALWAYS willing to help me find something when I need it. Had she been around to ask, I would have asked her for help.

The case these files belong to is going to trial soon. I think the files should be cleaned up and organized before then. It's not my job to do this, and I'm going to do everything in my power to avoid having to do it, because quite frankly, it would mean way too much time away from my desk. Even Nice Partner said it would take a paralegal about three days to accomplish.

But hell, if someone asks me for help with it, and I'm able to help, I will.

With a Pen (Friday, July 23, 2006 - Transcribed)

I am writing this on a pad of yellow paper. With a pen. It's not yet 10 p.m., and I'm in Napa house and cat-sitting for friends. There's a heat wave driving the temperature into the triple digits, with no sign of it letting up (or down, as the case may be) over the weekend. I am wearing shorts for the first time since leaving Florida. Napa feels like more than just a ferry ride away from San Francisco.

Just now I saw a typo and my right pinky finger twitched towards where the backspace key would be. Then I realized how infrequently I write. With a pen.

I'm in a house that has no air-conditioning or fans. I'm a little bit hot. And by a little bit, I mean a lot. My plan is to sleep in the bathtub with cold water running.

My friend left me the key to her car - Napa is spread out. Wine country and all. I couldn't resist, and even though it was dark out and I don't know how to get anywhere, I took the car for a spin. I hadn't driven in about a year. It's just like riding a bike, but easier. So much fun! As soon as I managed to pull off the driveway without bottoming out, I was fully confident.

As I sit here now, there is a cat laying on the coffee table staring at me. I suppose I do look a little funny, what with my hair piled on top of my head and a SpongeBob Squarepants washcloth on the back of my neck.

Anyway, the driving of the car was great. Little things that seem like no big deal when you have them on a regular basis made me so happy. Putting aside the issue of the a/c in the car, it was nice to listen to the radio while driving. I found a fancy grocery store (they had Boar's Head!) and bought some blueberries and cut-up watermelon ('I carried a watermelon'*). I'm much better at exploring by car than on foot. Maybe because I can cover more distance? I should rent a car in San Francisco and drive around all day.

Why am I blogging on paper with a pen instead of on a computer? Because while my friends do have a computer they said I could use, I can't seem to get it on and working. So here I am. With the aforementioned pen. Clearly I need to become one of those people who takes their laptop with them when they go away.

One of the cats is laying on the couch next to me now. It layed down and showed me it's belly. You dog lovers will know when a dog does that, it means the dog trusts you and is asking you to pet it's belly. But when I went to pet the cat that way, it very gently pushed my hand away with a paw. Twice. I can take a hint. Purring is a good sign, right? But then, what does meowing mean? Maybe tomorrow I can find a local library and look up some cat stuff.**

Meanwhile, the cat and I are playing. With a pen.

*The first person to tell me what that line is from will get a prize. No cheating.
** I didn't find a library to look up cat stuff. We got along swimmingly anyway.

Somebody's Gonna Hurt Someone, Before the (Day) Is Through

Today's color is red. I am not wearing red, because I only own one red shirt and it's an Aca Joe sweatshirt from Woodbury Commons (that'd be the one on Long Island, NOT Newburgh) that used to be my brother's. In like 7th grade. Clearly not appropriate for work.

But red IS the appropriate color today. My parents would be so proud to know how well I'm doing at staying out of the fights going on this morning.

One of the grandmas (the one who tells me when she thinks I'll need a sweater when I'm headed out to lunch, and likes for me to give her a weather report every day when I return) was being a tiny bit loud this morning. I say "tiny bit" because I didn't notice her talking. Loose Earlobe Lady SHUSHED her. I KNOW!!! Weather Grandma said to LEL, "Are you shushing me?" When LEL nodded and said yes, Weather Grandma rolled her eyes and said that was rich. It WAS rich.

And it only got worse from there. A few minutes later LEL laughed (loudly) and Weather Grandma shushed her in retaliation. Cat Lady tried to intervene (she's sort of friends with LEL - it's like a public service friendship in that she's friends with LEL just so she can tell her things for the good of everyone else who works with her) but Weather Grandma shut her down. They started arguing about whether LEL should be allowed to tell others to be quiet when she herself is never quiet. LEL went to HR to complain about the noise. Weather Grandma made fun of LEL for running to tattle. There were threats to go to one of the managing partners.

Ladies (and I think you know I'm using that term generously): Tomorrow's color is grow the fuck up.

Fraud? AGAIN?!

How can this be? How can this happen twice in less than three months to the SAME person? Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Really?! What are the odds? I'd like to know, because surely I'm setting a record!

Yesterday when I was leaving work, I listened to a voicemail from MBNA telling me there was suspicious activity on my credit card and to please call them back. But I had plans after work, and couldn't call until this morning. Which I did. At 6:15 a.m. And, fuck.

I started out thinking it was all a mistake. A good, cautious mistake. Like when I moved to Florida and bought furniture and MBNA called to make sure it was really me making those purchases. Because initially on this morning's phone call the guy started out saying that what they found suspicious was that my billing address and shipping address were different for one purchase. And that was fine. I recently HAD ordered something for a friend, and had it shipped to her address. I was just about to explain that to him and was already thinking of going back to sleep for another hour.

But no, I did NOT order $600 worth of clothes from an IRISH MENS AND BOYS CLOTHING STORE (located in Pelham*, of all places)!

If you didn't know me, you'd think I was one of those ditzy girls, who repeatedly accidentally leaves her ATM card in the ATM machine when getting money. The type who doesn't lock her front door, invites everyone in, lets random people sleep on the couch, forgets to take her credit card back from store clerks, and has never balanced a checkbook.

I AM NOT THAT GIRL.

Again, I am CAREFUL with my money, my privacy. I'm the girl who doesn't hesitate to turn around and glare at you when you're standing too closely behind me at the ATM, or anywhere I'm entering my PIN number. I'm the girl who doesn't let store merchants walk away with my credit card (the only exception is waitstaff in restaurants). I'm never shy about saying "Whoa, where ya goin'? Can I have my card back please?"

MBNA thinks my credit card number was compromised online - someone lifted it from a legitimate online purchase I made. They canceled my card and are issuing a new one to me. I won't be required to pay for any charges I don't recognize. But fuck. I understand this was a total fluke, that could have happened to anyone, but still. It burns. Where is being careful getting me? I am just so bummed out about this. And although I have no plans to buy a car or house or anything else that would require credit in the near future, a tiny voice in the back of my head is asking me how all this shit is affecting my credit score. I'm not liking that the answer I'm giving myself is I don't know.

I doubt this will stop me from ordering things online. However, I probably will start checking my credit card account weekly now. Fuck.

*Pelham is in New York.

I Am Not Overwhelmed

I did more at work today than I've done since I started working here.

At one point I found myself sitting at my desk, staring at all my different projects, while I quietly reminded myself out loud, "I am NOT overwhelmed." And then I prioritized what needed to be done for the fourth time today, and dug in.

It's so easy to get lazy when the work isn't flowing. It's so hard to remember the olden days when I rushed around all day, barely ever stopping for lunch. I had to remind myself that what I was dealing with today was NOT overwhelming. That I've been busier than this. That I've dealt with this on TOP of being screamed at by shitty lawyers. That each time I gave one of my lawyers something they needed today, they said "thank you" to me. That when Tunafish wanted me to stop what I was working on, I was able to say to him, "How RUDE!" He smiled when he saw that I was working on revisions to a letter he'd given me. "Ehh, I never liked that guy anyway - he's a punk."

Despite being swamped today, I still found time to send a few personal e-mails, make plans for after work, take a full hour for lunch, and also managed to leave promptly on time.

I predict that tomorrow morning will be crazy, but by the afternoon things will have slowed down significantly. Oh, and I'd also bet money that tomorrow's color will be green, but I already saw the memo and would win the bet.

Blogging At Work

Of course I don't really blog at work. Because that would be wrong. To blog about work when you're at work? Wrong. Anyway...

I've been getting some not-so-subtle hints lately about how I should be blogging more. Yes, this is one of those posts. Sure, I'll wait while you roll your eyes at having to read another "Sorry I haven't been blogging much lately, here's why" posts. Yeah so umm.... I haven't been blogging much lately. I have no good reason why.

Not much is going on at work. I still haven't been fired. I'm less than a month and a half away from my one-year anniversary. Nice Partner gave me a project to do that involves the dreaded word "research." He actually started to give the project to a paralegal and then decided I could do it. (No, I can't. Please don't think that just because I'm smart I can be competent. That's how I wind up getting fired. Well, one of the ways.) I know paralegals earn more money than secretaries. But I also know paralegals spend a lot of time doing research. I hate research. Part of why I hate it is because it's boring, and part of why I hate it is because I find it difficult. But so far, I'm doing decently with the project. Nice Partner never yells when he gets angry. He just opens his eyes really wide, like "Surely I'm not seeing the whole picture, because surely you can't be so stupid as to do or say whatever you've just done, so I'll try to open my eyes even more so I can see whatever it is you seem to be seeing." Even though I couldn't find part of what he told me to try to find, as he gave it to me, Nice Partner said the way it'd been put together was "wonky" and it wasn't me. I didn't get Wide Eyed at (that doesn't flow as well as 'I didn't get yelled at'). So I'm not upset that I sort of failed. But I'm sure hoping this research project ends soon. You know, before I screw it up.

The Grandmas were talking about sex today. I did not throw up when I overheard that. Wednesday's color will be green. Just another boring workday.

Anyway. The juicy stuff that I know you'd like reading is not stuff I'm at liberty to post about. The boring stuff is boring.

The deep stuff that makes me think? To be honest, I haven't been having many of those thoughts lately. I used to walk to work and try to come up with a solution that would satisfy both sides of the people involved in the local hotel strike, or figure out ways to solve homelessness or something else worldly and noble. Now I walk to work thinking how great it is that this No Puffery stuff from Origins really does seem to be making a difference.

Last week somebody tripped. Not only did she trip, she fell down. I didn't laugh. Not only didn't I laugh, but I helped her gather her things and made sure she was okay (she was).

For a while I was reading all these deep books. Now I'm reading British Glamour (alongside my Newsweek, but still).

What's happening to me?! Did I overdose on deepness? Is that possible? Will I spend all my free time watching My Sweet Sixteen and getting free samples from Origins ? Speaking of which, did you know if you ask for it, they'll give you free samples from Origins?

Not speaking of which, the new season of Laguna Beach* starts soon. Le grande sigh.

*Fine, yes, I'll admit it. I bought the book. But. It was for a friend. No, stop laughing, it really WAS for a friend. I just looked at the pictures. I'm not sure if that helps or hurts my cause here.

I'm Very, VERY Busy....

Playing at work. Playing what, you ask? Playing golf. Playing "try to get the ball into the recycling bin." Playing "try to get the ball into the office of the partner currently on the phone with a client." Playing "Bean Bernstein" which just means trying to hit one particularly unlucky associate in the head as he innocently tries to run by.

That's what the Cowboy, Tuna, and Nice Partner did all afternoon. Until about 4:50, when they left to go have drinks. I need a helmet to work at my office.

Process serving companies who want us to use their services are always sending us stress-release balls. Most secretaries have at least one at their desk. Today the Cowboy went up and down the row getting them from each secretary.

To LEL: Do you have any balls?
LEL, with a bright red face, and laughing so hard she can barely get the words out: No Cowboy, I don't have any balls at all.

To his credit, Cowboy did not let this comment register on his face.

The Cowboy asked me to buy him wiffle golf balls, so he can practice his swing. I told him I would, if he'd promise to never hit me in the head. He stuck out his hand and told me I had a deal. I turned to the Summer Associate.

"Are you still looking for a project? Could you research for me whether a verbal agreement is binding in the state of California?"

At one point when the Cowboy was lining up his shot, LEL told him a client was on the phone.

"Tell him I'm golfing in the office and to wait 30 seconds."

LEL, giggling, started to say into the phone "Cowboy can't come to the phone right now. He's trying to..." but ultimately was laughing too hard to finish her sentence. Which was a good thing. We were all looking at her wondering if it was possible to really be so stupid as to tell a client this. We'd all known he was kidding - how did she not realize?

I didn't get hit in the head today, and am content knowing it could have been worse - today was Birthday Day (when the firm provides cakes for all the people with birthdays this month), and at least they didn't have a food fight. Bet these afternoons don't happen at Skadden Arps.

I Guess There's No Reason Why Not

When I was little, I used to like asking my dad if I could go outside to ride my bike more than I liked asking my mom. Path of least resistance and all. I was no dummy.

I often got told no, but there were glorious Days of Yes also. The most frequest answer to my request (other than no) was:

Is your room clean? Would *I* think it's clean?

That was my cue to run upstairs and straighten up my piles of Highlights and Crickets magazines, shove my clothes somewhere other than my doll cradle and floor and give my room the illusion of cleanliness.

The best version of Yes that I got was the no followed by a yes.

GY: Can I please go ride my bike?
GreenDad: No
GY: Why?
GreenDad: I guess there's no reason why not.

That was my cue to zoom away before he changed his mind. At that moment, I had just been granted 15 minutes of freedom to ride my bike two whole houses to the left of ours, and two whole houses to the right of ours. Back and forth, for 14 and a half minutes. At which time I would race inside to be on time, and ask for another 15 minutes.

My mother's rule was that for every minute I was late, that was a day (week? I can't remember which anymore) that I could not ride my bike. It truly seemed like she LIKED if I was half a minute late. If the clock on the microwave said 4:16 before I made it into the kitchen to announce my return, she seemed happy to tell me all about how being late was unacceptable. Maybe she wasn't happy, though if I was grounded from riding my bike I suppose it allowed her to do things without having to keep an eye on the clock. But it really seemed to me like she was just gleefully waiting to catch me being 30 seconds late.

My father's rule was ... the same as my mother's. He just didn't really enforce it as strictly as she did. I'm not saying I took advantage and was gone for 17 minutes or anything crazy like that. But if the clock on the VCR said it was one minute later than we'd agreed I would be back, I was fairly confident there'd be another "I guess there's no reason why not" in my near future.

Yesterday I went to a party, and my friend showed up with her newborn baby. I'd told her in advance I wanted to hold and squeeze the baby and she let me. My other friend's daughter was also there, and she asked if she could hold the baby. I said no. She's only three years old, and ... and .... and when she asked "Why? I'll be careful" I realized "I guess there's no reason why not."

So I let her. Not for 15 minutes though. Just until the baby seemed unhappy.*

*No babies were harmed in the making of this story.