Bitch
Late this afternoon, Cowboy called the office from his car to speak with Tuna. He often does this. Tuna then poked his head out of his office, and wildly gestured to me. It's only because I'm such an experienced legal secretary that I understand Tuna was trying to say, "Is LEL at her desk? Cowboy wants to speak with her."
I shook my head no, and Tuna went back into his office. Four seconds later my phone was ringing. Tuna had transferred Cowboy to my line. Turns out Cowboy just wanted me to put in some time today. No problem. But, if LEL comes back soon, have her do it, and get the client/matter number from her. Sure thing. Cowboy earns over $450 per hour. You'd think it would be logical to assume anyone who earns that much money must be smart. Yet he actually asked me, "How long is it from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.?" When I told him it was ten hours, he told me to put in 9.9 hours. No problem. We schmoozed (Cowboy likes to schmooze), and then hung up.
Just then LEL came back. "Oh great, L?"
She is standing across from my desk, and when I say her name LEL turns towards me, rolls her eyes, and puts her most disgusted look on her face as she glares at me and says in a phony sing-song voice, "Yes?" I'll give her credit for this - the woman can give a nasty look like few people I know. It's not quite the Glare of Death, but it can take my breath away.
Well! Two can play at this game. I quickly plaster a look of surprise, confusion and hurt on my face while I blink innocently.
LEL realizes her mistake, shifts her stance, puts her hands on her hips, and a nervous giggle escapes. Clearly she's trying to pretend she was kidding when she looked at me disgustedly. Clearly I don't buy it.
I do a bit more innocent blinking while I let her know Cowboy gave me time for today but said I should ask her for the client/matter number. She tells me I better just forward the information to her so she can check it before closing the time.
Yeah, because I routinely make mistakes when I put in time? Whatever, bitch. She reviews the time, and tells me I didn't capitalize something. Firstly, it was a adjective, not a proper noun. You do not capitalize "court" in the term "court documents." Secondly, when the bills print out, every single letter is capitalized, so it doesn't matter. Especially since Cowboy never reviews his time until it's printed out.
It's dealing with shit like this all day long that make me dream of repeatedly smashing people's heads with frying pans.
I shook my head no, and Tuna went back into his office. Four seconds later my phone was ringing. Tuna had transferred Cowboy to my line. Turns out Cowboy just wanted me to put in some time today. No problem. But, if LEL comes back soon, have her do it, and get the client/matter number from her. Sure thing. Cowboy earns over $450 per hour. You'd think it would be logical to assume anyone who earns that much money must be smart. Yet he actually asked me, "How long is it from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.?" When I told him it was ten hours, he told me to put in 9.9 hours. No problem. We schmoozed (Cowboy likes to schmooze), and then hung up.
Just then LEL came back. "Oh great, L?"
Let me just pause here to tell you that although I hate LEL with passion, I am always professional when I deal with her at work. Except when I laugh at her for spilling her sodas. Which I try not to do more than once a week. Okay, twice. I'm even assertively nice. Just this morning I saw a nickel on the floor and picked it up and asked LEL if she'd dropped it. She had, and she took it from me, never saying thank you.
She is standing across from my desk, and when I say her name LEL turns towards me, rolls her eyes, and puts her most disgusted look on her face as she glares at me and says in a phony sing-song voice, "Yes?" I'll give her credit for this - the woman can give a nasty look like few people I know. It's not quite the Glare of Death, but it can take my breath away.
Well! Two can play at this game. I quickly plaster a look of surprise, confusion and hurt on my face while I blink innocently.
LEL realizes her mistake, shifts her stance, puts her hands on her hips, and a nervous giggle escapes. Clearly she's trying to pretend she was kidding when she looked at me disgustedly. Clearly I don't buy it.
I do a bit more innocent blinking while I let her know Cowboy gave me time for today but said I should ask her for the client/matter number. She tells me I better just forward the information to her so she can check it before closing the time.
Yeah, because I routinely make mistakes when I put in time? Whatever, bitch. She reviews the time, and tells me I didn't capitalize something. Firstly, it was a adjective, not a proper noun. You do not capitalize "court" in the term "court documents." Secondly, when the bills print out, every single letter is capitalized, so it doesn't matter. Especially since Cowboy never reviews his time until it's printed out.
It's dealing with shit like this all day long that make me dream of repeatedly smashing people's heads with frying pans.
7 Comments:
I'm sending a link to your site to my friend. She has very similar work issues, as do I. I thought this was really good.
I like how youu ended this one, you're funny Green, even when you're annoyed you always make me laugh...
Some people need to pick on not-really-mistakes to reassure themselves that they are needed and important. At my first office job, I was given the oh-so-important task of filling a closet wall-to-wall with stacks of paper as high as I could reach in preparation for the tax season. (Tax preparers go through obscene amounts of paper between February 1 and April 15.) Just as the last ream was placed in the closet, the office manager went nuts. I had placed half the reams with the "up" side facing down. She claimed that because there was a note on the wrapping on each ream saying something like "print on this side first for best results," (This is the paper that has one side more textured or something to absorb ink quicker and look nicer or something.) that it would all be ruined.
She personally took everything out of the closet to restack them because, obviously I was just a dumb college kid who didn't know anything and couldn't be trusted with anything so important as the paper supply. Whatever, lady.
You're so much more professional than I would be able to be, Green. I'm afraid I'd be lugging the frying pans to work and keeping them in my desk drawer!
In cowboy's defense. I am horrible at figuring out hours from times that are not military time.
You should have sent her the time and told her to input it.
Green, I'm gonna get the shit on your ass, you are too nice and too accomodating.
Caryn
Thanks for giving such a valuable and helpful information.
It's so important to realize that every time you get upset, it drains your emotional energy.
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