Work

Everyone is totally bummed about Drunk Granny not being around anymore. I think she knew more about litigation than some of our trial lawyers. We're all feeling her absence. They haven't replaced her yet, but I've gotten in good with the Head Secretary and have been campaigning hard for a non-grandma. I suggested to her that she doesn't have to ask applicants their ages, what with that being illegal and all, but she should go by names. People named Carol, Barbara, Susan, Sharon, Linda, etc., are too old. People named Hayleigh, Kymberleigh, Brittanie, etc., are too young. People named Jessica, Danielle, Lauren, Christine, Stephanie, and Kimberly* should be just the right age. So she's negotiating salary with someone named Lisa. My fingers are crossed that before Thanksgiving I won't be the only person in my row under the age of 55.

Yesterday LEL spilled a huge glass of ice water all over her desk and on the floor around her. I would have turned around to ask if she needed paper towels or any help cleaning up, but I didn't think I could speak without laughing. Right after it happened, the two baby attorneys whose offices are across from her desk promptly closed their doors. Three seconds later I got an e-mail from one of them saying, "What's so funny?" and I immediately had to go walk away from my desk to laugh.

In the afternoon the Cowboy came in, and not seeing Tuna or Nice Partner, asked LEL in Spanish where they were. She lived in some Spanish-speaking country for two or three decades and loves teaching/correcting Spanish. I have no idea if the Cowboy's question was grammatically correct, but I have this thing about communication - if you get your point across, that's what's important. Not how you did it, but THAT you did it.

At the same time that I started to answer the Cowboy, LEL started to correct his grammar. He interrupted her and said, "Lesson one. Never correct your boss." How could she not know that?

Cat Lady (who spent a half hour on Wednesday grossing me out by belching loudly due to eating a slice of cheesecake after having had gastric bypass surgery) told me this about LEL:

She's retarded. She. is. RETARDED. When you look at her, super-impose a down-syndromed face over hers.

Well alrighty then.

Name Partner is driving me a little nuts. Last week I fucked up by not getting his time entered on time, and he got fined by the firm. Well, actually he got his one free whoopsie each partner gets once a year. But still. There was a fuckup and it was my fault. This week he hasn't been in the office since Tuesday, and I need him to give me his time to be entered. I sent him an e-mail yesterday asking for it. If he gets fined and then blames me, even though it won't be my fault, I'll still be upset.

Nice Partner very generously hasn't fired me this week, even though I would have fired myself for all my fuckups. I got a big talking-to the other day after he found out about my fuckup. It is so frustrating to try so hard, and still feel myself failing so often. How do you try harder? Yet somehow yesterday I did, Nice Partner noticed, and he yelled to me, "Yeah! THAT'S what I'm talking about!" I almost thought we were going to high-five or something.

I must write my next blog post about File Clerk. <---- that's me, forcing myself to have accountability. Or something. Never mind that I can always go back and delete this paragraph.

*No offense if you're named any of these, and you're a different age.