My Halloween Utopia

Wouldn't it be awesome if instead of those little short people knocking on your door looking for candy, someone knocked on your door and offered you some of their candy? This would be the ideal situation for me. Because all I want is one. Not an entire bag, not lots of different candy, just one or two cups.

My mother was always a door-hog when it came to Halloween, pushing me away from the front door with her body when the bell rang, even going so far as to block the opening by standing in front of the door so not only was I unable to ever give out candy, but I couldn't see the costumes people wore.

Eight years ago I moved out, but the only time candy was involved in door-knocking it was in Florida, and two of those little short people wanted me to buy it from them for some school thing. So I don't ever bother buying candy. But I could really go for a cup or two. Would it be terribly wrong to mug a shortie for that? I wouldn't take ALL their candy...

What I've Been Wondering

We're so into the environment these days, right? There's so much talk about not polluting the air and properly disposing of garbage, whether that means recycling or composting or whatever.

I know a lot of people like to be cremated. But what I don't understand is why people think it's okay to throw their loved ones ashes into oceans. Aunt Joyce loved sailing? Throw her in the ocean while out on her favorite sailboat. Uncle Jerry loved fishing? Throw him out into the lake on a day when the fish are really biting. Why is this an acceptable thing?

People go SWIMMING in lakes and oceans! I don't want to swim among ashes! Am I the only person who thinks there's something wrong with this practice?

Please, Won't You Join Me?

I am begging you to give your support to Dave tonight and tomorrow. His little three-person family has been through more in one year than many families deal with in a lifetime.

His wife is very ill, he has had surgery after surgery, and all while their teenage son is just plugging along at school and life.

Dave, wishing you all the best tomorrow morning. Good luck.

Meme Time

Follow That Dog tagged me for a meme. I think I'm supposed to give you six random facts about me. Since I struggled so much to write that 100 Things post, I'm not sure I've got six more in me, but we'll see. What with barely leaving my house these days and barely ever talking to anyone, there's not much to say.

1. There is a pool at the apartment complex where I live. Very early this morning I heard little kids screaming at the pool and it made me smile. Until I heard little feet running on the concrete, when I thought "I bet that little fucker is wearing Crocs."

2. Thanks to some excellent advice, I changed my AOL plan and now it's free. Yes, I use AOL. No, I'm not impressed that you've never used it. No, I didn't know before this that they offered a free plan. I also canceled my Netflix account, which makes me sad. I love movies, and was not seeing nearly all the ones I wanted to, assuring myself I could see them on Netflix. The Netflix lady was really nice, which made me comfortable enough to ask if there was, by any chance, some way to save my precious queue. Happily, she said the queue will stay for two years and if at any point during that time I'm ready to rejoin, I can.

3. Everyone from high school is married. Literally every single person. Even the people who were really, really mean to me. Once, when my brother had gone to Florida, I went with my parents to the airport to pick him up. I was in middle school at the time, and at the airport I saw a boy in my grade coming up the gate, so I smiled at him. He sneered at me. That Monday in school I rounded a corner to hear him telling a bunch of other kids, "And when I got off the plane, the very first thing I saw? Green fucking YOGURT!" Even he is married now.

4. Last week when I was walking down the hill towards the MUNI station I found a dollar bill. I stopped picking up pennies years ago, thinking I should leave them for little kids who are still young enough to get excited over finding pennies, but I definitely picked up that dollar.

5. I have been trying to reach my grandpa for about three weeks now, to no avail. He has been in the hospital since last week. I am very sad and scared. Not that he'll die, really. He's 90, and dying is what old people do. I understand that. But I'm sad because I feel like he's stressed and confused and going to die because he's giving up, rather than dying because he's tired and feels like he's had a good run. That's just not the way I want him to go out, and not what I think he wants for himself.

6. The last four times a temp agency has called to check my availability saying they may have a law firm that needs me, ultimately they've called back to say they don't need me after all - whoever was about to go on vacation has canceled it and a temp won't be necessary. So late last week when they called to see if I'm available this week and next I said yes, but I won't believe it until I'm actually walking past security.

Some Prop 8 Talk

Proposition 8 is all the rage here in CA. Everyone's talking about it, putting up signs about it, blogging about it, and in general, making me tired of hearing about it.

For those who don't know and are too lazy to click on the link, prop 8 would make it so marriage can only be between a man and a woman. As in, gay people wouldn't be able to get married.

There are a slew of commercials about this. Here's the gist of them: little pigtailed girl runs up to her mom (who naturally, is in the kitchen), and says, "Hey, guess what I learned in school today! A king can marry a king and when I grow up, I can marry a princess!" Cut to the mom looking horrified.

Probably no surprise to anyone who knows me, that "I don't get it." These commercials are aiming to say two things:

1. Children shouldn't know about gay people.
2. Gay people shouldn't be allowed to marry.

I understand neither of these. Should children not know about handicapped people? Should white children not know about black children? Should children not know anyone who is in any way different from them? Different religion? Correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought there was something about stimulating children's brains by exposing them to different things. Granted, most people interpret that to mean "take your kid to the zoo" and such.

Gay people exist. They are not going to stop existing. If children are exposed to gay people, they can ask questions and it can become a non-issue. If children are "sheltered" from gay people, the likelihood of them meeting a gay person as an adult and insulting them by accident seems pretty strong to me.

Granted, somebody who is "against" gay people may say "well they chose to be that way, so they deserve any insults they get." Except from everything I've read, gay people are born gay. The only choice they make is whether or not to hide it.

Kids are taught about Black History Month, Chinese New Year, and all sorts of things involving people who are potentially different from them. So why NOT teach them that not everyone has the stereotypical family with two straight parents?

The other issue is that gay people shouldn't be allowed to marry. Why not? Because your bible tells you that? Should everyone have to live according to your bible? Are you living entirely according to your bible? No, you are not. So why should you be allowed to pick and choose the parts of your bible other people should live by?

Like with the anti-abortion stance, I wonder if anyone can speak intelligently about why they think gay marriage is wrong without bringing religion into the equation.

Talking and Listening

People always say that if someone is depressed, they should talk about it. Talk it out. Talk, talk, talk. I don't want to talk. I love talking, but I hate people listening to me. The way they listen. Which is funny, because multiple times each day I resist the urge to scream, "Somebody! Just pay attention to me!" I do not get nearly enough attention. This is why people should have shrinks or therapists. Because what you want to do is talk to a friend. Because you trust them, you're comfortable with them. But if you told them all the crazy thoughts you have, and how often you think those thoughts, or how infrequently you're NOT thinking those thoughts, of course they wouldn't want to be friends with you anymore. And when one of the things that makes you want to kill yourself is not feeling like you have enough people who care about you, you know talking to friends about your problems would be social suicide.

I don't want to talk. I want to solve. I want to not need to talk. If talking doesn't solve, it's just complaining. Venting. Whatever. You know why else talking sucks? Because it involves another person. And when their suggestion won't work and you explain why, that person never takes it well.

I don't want to talk. I get that people ask because they care. The caring? Appreciate it a thousand times over. More than I can express. But what you need to know is that sometimes I need a break from it. It keeps me up at night. If my eyes are closed I will swear to you that something physical is truly pressing down on my chest and that's why it's hard to breathe. Sometimes I need to be distracted. Sure, there are some people in denial about their situations. I am not one of those people. I never forget. It's simply that I don't know how to fix it.

You know how when a baby wants to be picked up they look up at you and hold their arms up? That's how I feel. I can't fix this. I can't make it better. I need someone else to, because I can't. But if you're not going to, don't talk to me about it. Because yes, I'm registered with every temp agency in the city. Yes, I already looked into it, and I qualify for neither welfare nor foodstamps. Yes, I saw that job on Craigslist and applied for it. Yes I check these other websites daily. Really, I'm on it.

I don't want to talk. I know you care. I just need a break. Let's talk about you. What's going on with your life? How are YOU? I want to listen. I'm great at listening. What would you like to tell me about you?

Joseph, The Partner Who Got Fired - Part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Joseph, as I told you, had previously had his own law firm in Miami before coming on as a partner in this firm. So it's understandable that he had some ... adjustment issues. I have a feeling Joseph did not do well in kindergarten, because despite explaining the system to him over and over, he refused to share the conference room next door to his office.

Here's how it works in most midsize or large law firms: when you want a conference room for your lawyer you find out when they want it, for how long, for how many people, and if they need anything special (projection screen, laptop, IT dude on standby, drinks, lunch, etc.) and you either call the receptionist to give them that info, or you log onto a program on the intranet and reserve the conference room that fits your needs.

Obviously, you can not bump someone from a conference room without asking them first. Also, the general understanding is that when lunch is brought in for a meeting, once that meeting has ended, the leftover food is up for grabs to all employees. I have actually seen emails go out that say "Free food in Camo Conf. Room" fairly regularly.

Joseph didn't want to share the conference room. And he only wanted to use the one next to his office. Often we had to spread things out, and it's common to use a table in a conference room for the space. But it's also common to clean up when you're finished. And if you're not going to finish any time soon, the right thing is to make sure nobody's going to be needing that conference room. Partially because it's unprofessional for clients to see a mess, but also because of confidentiality issues.

Joseph didn't care. The partners had a standing reservation for the conference room across from me, and Joseph often asked me to have them moved. No. You can't do that. You just simply can not. He also had a habit of using the conference room when nobody was there, and if someone came by during their reserved time, rather than scooping everything up and leaving, Joseph would suggest to them that they find another conference room to use.

Once we had a client come to a meeting from Columbia. He brought his whole family. This was one of my favorite clients - he worked for a company that hired him to invent airplane parts to make planes more aerodynamic and we'd patent them, but every so often he'd get bored with that and go crazy by inventing a better golf ball or something. We'd patent those inventions also, and bill him instead of his company for those. In all honesty, I think he brought his sons to the meeting to translate for him.

A lot of people were at this meeting, and I ordered a huge lunch for it. I also reserved a small conference room next door to the one we were using, and had a tv and vcr put in there in case the boys got bored and wanted to go watch tv. Joseph wanted me to attend this meeting, so I did. The client had been Joseph's client for years, and stayed with him through the move to the firm. Yet when he arrived, Joseph pulled me aside and angrily hissed, "Why don't you speak spanish?!" before turning away to shake hands with the wife.

Julie and I looked at each other in shock, and I pantamimed pulling something out of my ass before running off to see if there was a secretary available to come translate. Joseph KNEW I didn't speak Spanish. I know how to say, "The attorney is not here," and "I'm sorry, I do not understand," and "One minute, please" and that's all. Wait, I also know how to ask where the library is, thanks to Golden Boy, but it's rare you have to ask that at work. After the meeting Joseph told me to make sure the leftovers were packaged and put into a refrigerator clearly labled with the date and "IP Department ONLY." Julie gently asked him if it woudn't be better to let people know there were leftovers so that if they'd had to work through lunch they could grab something quickly. No.

Oh! Did I mention that Joseph called his parents by their first names? I don't need to point out to you that Joseph was not a 14 year-old girl amusing herself by calling her mother Marilyn. He simply decided when he became a lawyer that it's not professional to call your parents anything but their first names. His mom dropped by a few times, and we used to use his dad as a messenger, so Julie and I knew Joseph's parents. His dad actually told us one day he missed being called dad, so from then on that's what Julie and I called him.

Joseph continued to refuse to share the conference room, continued to offend his partners, and continued to have privacy and control issues. Frankly, he did not play well with others. And that is why ultimately, Joseph was asked to leave the firm. On a Friday afternoon. He walked out to never go back. He had movers come in to take his things, and Joseph reverted to private practice. Months later Julie left the firm to go work for him part time (she had a baby by then). The end.

Take a Hint

So this guy's wife died, he got overwhelmed with all his kids, and he brought them to a hospital knowing they'd be taken care of due to this "safe haven" law.

Let's go over that one more time. He took his kids somewhere they'd be safe. He knew of a law that helps people, and he used it to get help for his family. He did not abuse his kids. He did not just walk out of the house to never return. He took care of his family the best way he knew how.

Here's my problem with this: politicians now want to change the law so only babies can be dropped off at hospitals, not children. Apparently the law was meant to only be for babies, and in all other states is only for babies, but somehow the wording for the law in this state (Nebraska) was changed to children.

And people are using that wording to drop off children they don't feel they can take care of properly. What's the fucking problem with this? I happen to think these parents are doing exactly the right thing. If you can't do it, let someone else try.

I remember reading once about how Girl's Gone Child was trying to get speech therapy for her son and how it took ages and ages, and then the speech therapists rarely showed up and ultimately, she just gave up on it. In the article I linked to above, the guy in charge of the Department of Children and Family Services criticized the father saying there are resources to help him. Yeah. Sure. How many kids have died while in the custody of DCF?

Yesterday a guy caused a bomb scare in the Financial District, upset that he was (put down your drink now!) rejected from being a contestant on Price Is Right (hey, I warned you). He handed a receptionist a note that said "I need help." To which you might want to reply, "No shit!"

TAKE A HINT! These people are taking drastic measures as ways of screaming for help. What's being done? Scrambling to change laws that will make things more difficult for parents (which naturally will trickle down to their children) and arresting people. I'm sure that bomb scare dude was arrested, and I agree and understand that. You can't go scaring people that you're going to kill them. I'm sure the bomb scare dude's public defender will plead temporary insanity or something and try to get it down to a lower charge. Dude will pay a fine, do some time, and get out.

But what about his note? What about the fact that he did this as a cry for help? I think the note speaks volumes. (In case you don't click on links, I will point out he didn't really have a bomb.) It should be listened to. Somebody should help this guy. Not "you can go to jail or go to a state run mental hospital" but actual, real help. Like he asked for. Begged for.

Mark my words, people. It's only going to get worse. Take a hint from what's going on here. We need more help, more services. Not less.

Lots of Frustrating Shit Going On

Only made more difficult by the constraints of communication methods. And of people pulling boundaries out of their asses to hide behind when they don't like being called on their shit.

Somebody please tell me how the fuck to stop being so very disappointed in society. I am a fucking asshole. There is no disputing this. It would be much easier for me to find more people who agree with that statement than to find people who disagree. So there is no way you can say my standards are too high, that I am too intelligent or anything of the sort.

Apparently I am 13, because I fucking hate everyone and everything.

::storms off, slams door so violently that entire house shakes::

Had I Not Seen It...

The bus I'm on is driven by a black man. There are no old or handicapped people so I'm sitting near the front doors. We stop at a bus stop. There are two black girls sitting, waiting for a (different) bus. One of them is eating a big hamburger from a fast food place.

Bus driver: You gonna eat all that?
Girl nods.
Bus driver: That damn burger is bigger than your head!
Girl smiles and takes a bite.
Entire front of bus turns to look out the window to compare size of burger to size of girl's head. It's close.

Bringing Iran Home

I've had a slew of roommates. Two in college, two in Florida, and five in San Francisco (four of whom I've blogged about). In order, we had:

1. White hick from North Bumfuck, New York
2. The least cool black girl in all of Brooklyn, New York
3. Latina girl from Northern Florida
4. Half-jewish girl from Nice, France
5. Crunchy lawyer-girl from midwest
6. Young Lacey from different part of midwest
7. Steamroller
8. Trixie
9. 9am

My roommate 9am is Iranian. I seem to have a pattern of being roommates with people who are from places the U.S. is having issues with (the mountain). Remember when George Bush was angry at France and french fries became freedom fries? That was when I had a roommate from Nice, France. I brought her with me to a breakfast with my family and dared her to order freedom toast (she wouldn't do it).

A couple of weeks ago, 9am spent about a half hour teaching me the last 60 years of Iranian history regarding government. As I always do, I had a lot of questions, to the point 9am almost called his mother to get clarification on some issues.

This weekend 9am's dad is here. I met him tonight and he is very warm and friendly. I like him. He is easy to talk with. He lives in San Diego, and told me what it's like there. I feel really lucky that I've gotten to meet people from different parts of the country, and world, and talk with them and learn about the places they come from.

People sometimes ask why diversity is so important. This is why. Because when I hear Iran, I will think of 9am* and his dad. I will not think it sounds similar to Iraq and we hate Iraq so we hate Iran too. Because the more people you meet, the broader your world is, the more it opens up. Next time the news mentions Iran, I'm more likely to pay attention because I'll have a base of knowledge that I didn't have before. It will mean more to me (than nothing). Knowledge is power and all that shit.

Question for you nine who are reading: when your parents are coming over, do you clean your home? 9am did not clean at all. He didn't vacuum, throw out the garbage, clean his bedroom, clean off the dining room table (piles of 9am's mail), clean the kitchen in any way, etc. It's not like his father comes over every week or anything - this is his very first visit out here. Is it a girl thing to clean before guests (especially parents) come over, or a me thing?

*Yes, 9am is misogynistic and clueless and cooks chicken in the mornings. But as far as roommates go, he is overall a good one.

Joseph, The Partner Who Got Fired - Part 3

Part one, part two.

There's something else I want to mention. Joseph's real name is not Joseph, but I chose it for a specific reason - it's a name that can be shortened to another commonly used name. Joseph was always the full Joseph. In fact, if anyone ever called asking for Joe, I knew to take it as a sign they were not close enough to be talking to him.

This is not a hard and fast rule, but in general, more than 50% of the time, it's a bad sign when a guy never EVER wants to be called the shorter version of their name. Not even in the midst of a joke, not even ever. In my experience, these people are control freaks. (Obviously, there are exceptions. It's something I keep in the back of my mind though, when I meet someone who tells me his name is Robert.)

Let's talk about 9/11. Joseph knew I was from New York. On September 11th, when I walked into work Julie, the secretary who sat next to me, told me a plane had crashed into the WTC. The secretary who sat on the other side of me was also from NY, and had a radio on at her desk. I listened in horror for half a minute or so, and then went to another floor where I knew there was a television.

Julie, her boss, and I stood in a conference room while we watched the second plane hit, while we watched both towers crumble. "This is going to start a war," the lawyer mumbled. I ran back to my desk, called my mother, and woke her up to ask if my father was in the city that day. I called my brother, and called a few relatives, both checking on people and letting other relatives know when I knew family members were safe.

While I was doing this, the conference room across from me was being used for an impromptu emergency meeting. In major cities across the country bomb threats were being called in, buildings were being evacuated. By 10:00 a.m., the door to the conference room opened, and lawyers started streaming out. There were rumors all over the place. The building is closing. The building is going on lock down. The firm is closing for the day. The firm is closing at 3pm.

I went over to the secretary from New York and she told me an e-mail was going out shortly. She was from Queens, and I asked about her family. We walked back to my desk together and while Joseph was standing nearby, she asked about mine.

Joseph started giving me a list of files he wanted put in a box, having all of us rush around, packing documents so he'd be able to work at home. At no point did he ever say, "Hey, you're from New York - is YOUR family okay?" Other people were walking by in shock, and people who barely knew me were asking. But not Joseph. He was busy flashing his shit-eating grin about the whole situation. There was a weird disconnect - it almost seemed like he was excited (which yes, I know some people can't deal with extreme stress and all - I used to smile a lot when I was nervous but that was when I was five). This kind of has nothing to do with anything, other than giving you a broader picture of Joseph's personality.

Joseph, The Partner Who Got Fired - Part 2

Part 1.

Joseph was very nice initially. When I first started working for him, I noticed pictures in his office of two little girls. He told me that his daughters had just gone away to sleepaway camp for the first time. Someone else told me that Joseph was on his third marriage. He had a cell phone (this is 2000-2001) that he carried around with him at all times. Wife and children called on there - almost never on his work line.

Joseph had a shit-eating grin he'd flash, and I recognized it because I also have one. A good shit-eating grin will get the other person to smile back at you. You'll get mine when we're being silly, when I've come up with the most ridiculous and outrageous idea. Joseph would flash his when he wanted you to agree with or believe him. Mine is always genuine. Joseph's was never genuine.

At some point Joseph went away on vacation. Right before he left, Joseph gestured to me to come talk with him in his office. "It's nobody's business where I am or that I'm not here, okay? So each morning, I want you to open the door, turn on the lights, turn on my computer. If anyone asks, you can just say I'm at an out-of-office meeting." Ever the consummate professional, I said alright and walked away.

Every morning while Joseph was on vacation I opened his office door, turned on the lights, and fired up his computer.

Let's just stop and talk about the door. Joseph kept his door closed. Most attorneys don't. They close their door when they're with a client. They close their door when the hallway is loud, or when they need to concentrate, or just when they want to send a message to their coworkers that they don't want to be bothered.

There is security in law offices. I've never EVER gotten to live out the cliche of running after someone screaming, "You can't go in there!" You will have to trust me when I tell you there was no reason for Joseph to always be closing his office door.

But whatever. I did what my boss wanted. Attorneys need to account for their time. Law firms require this, even for partners (especially for partners since their time is worth more money). In some firms lawyers are fined if they do not submit their time. They get strongly worded e-mails from the managing partner. Paychecks are sometimes withheld. Entering time is serious business.

There are codes when entering time. Vacation, sick day, CLE (continuing legal education), training, etc. So while Joseph was on vacation I entered the vacation code in the time management program. So he wouldn't get fined or receive angry e-mails.

When Joseph returned from vacation and saw that I'd done that, he got very angry at me. "I told you it's nobody's business when I go on vacation! Erase the codes!" I apologized, erased the codes, and explained that his time had to be accounted for, that Accounting would be calling if I didn't enter something. Joseph stood firm.

Naturally, Accounting called. I went to talk with them in person. And you know what I did? I threw Joseph under the bus, and told them he insisted I not put in any time for those days. When they pressed me for further information, I apologized and said they should speak with him directly. So they did. And Joseph stood in the hallway and yelled at the head of Accounting, that he was a PARTNER and would not be told what to do. When it was explained this was a firm policy for all lawyers, not just associates, Joseph stood firm.

The managing partner's secretary called me about time entry. I told her I was instructed not to enter any time for those dates. Julie, the secretary sitting next to me, kept laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Ultimately, the managing partner actually DID come down the hallway, and they had a closed door conversation. When they came out the managing partner looked right at me. I'd temped for him and thought he hadn't liked me, but as our eyes met, he smirked and rolled his eyes.

Well alrighty then. I was just happy to know it was understood that I didn't screw up. Because that's a common secretarial screwup - to forget to enter time for lawyers.

Oh, let me toss in another thing for you to know about Joseph. On one hand, I had an awful desk - it was right in front of the bathrooms on that floor. But on the other hand, it was a great location. Why? Right across from my desk was the conference used for partners meetings, executive committee meetings, etc. So I often knew what was going to happen at the firm before it happened.

Joseph knew that this conference room, right next to his office, held these meetings. And he came right up to me and said in a joking manner, something along the lines of, "hey, if you hear of anything I'd be interested in knowing, remember who you work for." Yeah, I remember - I work for the firm.

A few weeks after Joseph said this to me, he had an interesting client meeting. It was wrapping up in the hallway when another partner happened by and caught the end of the conversation. Once Joseph had walked the client to the elevators and come back, the partner asked about the case. Joseph gave him a shit-eating grin and told him, "Sorry. Attorney-client confidentiality."

Okay. This is not right. When you become a partner in a law firm, it's like becoming a member of a fraternity (or sorority!) - you're all in it together. So this was a HUGE slap in the face. It was also ironic, considering Joseph had asked me to feed him confidential information.

There's Some Good

9am sometimes drives me nuts. All that chicken cooking he does in the morning, his inability to leave any of our three counters clean, his penchant for using enough cologne for a small army, etc.

However. I stayed in my room all day today. I've been doing that a lot lately, but today 9am actually noticed. Around 10pm I got dressed and made some eggs and toast. Wait, between the putting on of clothing and the cooking, I took the dirty frying pan out of the sink and washed it. When I first picked it up 9am looked over, asked if I needed the pan, and when I said yes, he said he'd clean it. But I was already standing there holding it, my hands were already wet with water, so I told 9am not to worry about it.

An hour or so later, siting on the couch watching tv, and 9am comes and stands a few feet away. At first I thought he was looking at the tv while standing and eating his cereal, but then sensed he was in fact looking at me.

GY: Hiya.
9am: Hello.
GY: How's it going?
9am: Good. Did you eat today?
GY: Yeah, I just ate.
9am: Are you feeling alright?
GY: Sure, thanks.

9am is somewhat self-absorbed. Dude owns two pairs of shoes, we have a no-shoes home, and he still hasn't figured out I know whether or not he's home based on what shoes are in the entryway. So 9am does not know that I don't have a job. I think he assumes that sometimes I work from home, despite the fact that legal secretaries can't do that. Or maybe he just assumes he didn't notice me the other mornings, since some mornings (when I'm temping) he sees me dressed up on the way out the door, not realizing the reality is I never left the house. He has no idea I don't have enough money for November rent. He has no idea I am deeply in debt. That my credit cards are frozen because I haven't paid them in two months. He doesn't know every time I leave the house I pray to get hit by a car and die and am beyond completely freaking out.

He does not get depression. He told me once about a girl from law school who got depressed and went to therapy. He made fun of her, and made jokes about mental illness. But I am touched he thought I was sick today and asked after me.

Joseph, The Partner Who Got Fired - Part 1

Twenty comments. You guys always come out of the woodwork when I throw something up here that invites voting. Practicing for November, huh? Though for all I know someone is corrupt and all you anons are really just one person. So you want to hear about Joseph, the partner in South Florida who got fired. Alrighty. I need a break from all this election shit, and maybe you do too, so let's talk about how shit went down in Florida. And Meeks? Here ya go. One, Two, Three, Four, Five.

I had temped at this firm previously, and liked them just fine. They're one of the biggest firms in Florida, and when I interviewed with the HR guy we'd already known each other from my temping days. (See? Different coast, same job problems. You really can't run away from yourself.) He had me sit in the little interview room next to his office while he went to fetch Joseph. All I knew was that it was IP (intellectual property) law, the guy had previously had his own practice, lived in Miami, and had come to the firm as a partner.

And then I met Joseph. He was jewish, with clean fingernails and a big smile, and was what I call "dad-age." I flashed a jewy smile back at him, and we chatted. "Have you worked in patent law before?" "No, but I hadn't worked in Florida before I moved here either," I tossed out, displaying a confidence I didn't really have. Joseph explained that he'd just come to the firm recently, and the department was small, but hopefully growing. He did patent law, had a female attorney who did trademarks, and he was excited. I nodded eagerly, "It sounds really exciting." I am such a kiss ass in an interview, it's disgusting. And yet I keep doing it, because it totally works.

Right when I started, like the first day or two, Joseph stressed to me the need for confidentiality. Most attorneys do this. Just a breezy thing in passing. "Hey, you know you're bound by the same confidentiality I'm bound by, right? Okay, just making sure." No big deal. He had stacks and stacks of files all around the floor of his office. Pointing to the files, I asked if he wanted them filed. No. He wanted to go through them - they were client files from his private practice and needed to be incorporated into the current firm's file format. I offered to come in on a Saturday, and help. Overtime is my friend.

The next bright Saturday morning found me driving through downtown Fort Lauderdale, on Broward Boulevard, feeling slightly uncomfortable without the homeless guy on the church steps. He used to ask everyone for change as they walked to the parking garage a block and a half away, Brasserie, Las Olas Boulevard, during rush hour. Once a lawyer was walking in front of me when he got asked for change. The lawyer leaned toward the homeless guy, and said, "Change comes from within," and kept walking. Since I felt like I'd just been punched in the chest, it's hard to imagine how that homeless guy felt.

I crossed the street, stumbling into the side entrance of the building (which was a Starbucks), and Nat, the gay owner rushed right over, asking if I was okay. Words escaped me. Shaking my head I gestured towards the lawyer in front of me who was striding to the elevator banks, and gave his back my middle finger. Nat was cool. He'd been there a long time, and just nodded to me. "He never tips either." I never gave that homeless guy on the church steps any money, but I always looked him in the eyes and said, "No, sorry," which is what I say these days too.

It would make a good story if I told you that attorney was Joseph, but that's not true. I just wanted to mention this homeless guy because he was the first one I interacted with on a regular basis in my life. That church had a daycare, and a fenced playground. Each day when leaving work the kids would be outside playing and screaming. I don't know if other people liked it or not, but I did. I liked to imagine they were screaming with glee that work was over for the day.