She Slices His Bananas and Salami

That's not a euphemism for anything. The partner where I'm temping has a personal assistant. Apparently the secretary he fired claimed he had so much work to do that was not firm-related that she couldn't keep up with her legal secretary duties. Now, I have worked for him before, both as his legal secretary and as his personal assistant. Last year when I worked as the PA, he was being audited. The office manager told me his (then) former secretary reported him to the IRS because she hated him. When I worked as the personal assistant it was mostly preparing documents to be sent to the partner's accountant. Which was a waste. There's no reason he couldn't have just sent those documents to the accountant's office and let his staff pluck out the information needed.

Anyway. My point is, the partner likes having a personal assistant. He spends a lot of time flitting around talking about how busy he is, too busy to make phone calls or do client-related work, and instead hires a personal assistant to do things for him. The reality is he wants to retire to Napa like many of his friends have, and just come into the city one or two days a week.

The partner is horridly disorganized. He doesn't even make any attempt to be better, probably because everyone around him is organized in an effort to counter his Pig-Pen-esque messes. On Friday the partner asked me to help him carry things to his car. The truth is, he could have carried it all by himself. Hell, I could have carried it all by myself. He just really likes having people constantly doing things for him. It strokes his ego.

For the last two-plus weeks, I have been working at this place. It is my third time working for this guy. He has been all compliments. I follow through on things. I fix problems the last secretary caused. I get along with all the employees, and the sub-tenants. The office manager has been out for the last two weeks due to illness, and I have handled a slew of things she normally does. Any time the partner asks me if I know how to do something that I don't know how to do, I tell him I'll figure it out, and then I do.

The partner was not allowing the now-fired secretary to calendar anything because she kept screwing up. I calendar things, and it works out just fine. The partner told me he didn't allow the now-fired secretary to work on CC&R's because there is a lot of formatting that could easily get screwed up. I have worked on three. There are many examples like that. Since I started there earlier this month, the partner has consistently complimented me. Two or three times he has said that when the office manager is back he'd like to talk about making this a permanent position. He never gave me any negative feedback.

Then on Friday afternoon the partner told me that next week I should schedule about 45 minutes for us to talk, perhaps during lunch, for him to tell me things I should improve upon, for future jobs. Meaning ... he is not going to hire me? Really? Where is this coming from? He has never had one complaint and now he feels he has 45 minutes worth? This from the man who has gone through six secretaries in less than two years?

On Friday, when he told me this, I was livid as I agreed. This weekend a lot of thinking and re-framing has happened. I was already fighting against counting chickens before they were hatched in terms of waiting for this temporary job to turn into a permanent one. Now I am changing my approach. When I show up tomorrow, it will be with the goal of extending this temp position for as long as possible.

Everyone is hoping the office manager will make it back to work tomorrow, part-time. I want to talk with her about this, since she is very influential with the partner. He doesn't make any big decisions without her. Also, I will ask if she can join in the constructive-criticism lunch hour, because I think it'll go better with her there. I wish he'd do this at the end of the day. 45 minutes is a long time to sit there allowing a wealthy egomaniac to tell you what you should be doing differently or how you can do things better. I'd prefer to be able to go home afterward, in case the constructive criticism makes me want to cry. It'd be better to do that on the train home, rather than in the sunken living room of an office in Union Square.

Why Couldn't I Have a Boyfriend?

At the place where I'm temping, the lawyer rents out space to other lawyers, which makes them sub-tenants. There are some former sub-tenants who still receive mail here, which means someone has to come by on a semi-regular basis to fetch said mail. One of the people who is a fetcher is a bald, corpulent man. He's probably in his late 30's or early 40's. He walks with a cane. I temped at this place last year, and I remember this guy from then. He'd come up the stairs, ask if he had any mail, and I'd hand it to him. After a while I got busy and told him he could just help himself to the folder where it's kept.
I started temping here again a few weeks ago, and the second day I was here, when he saw me he asked what my plans were for lunch. I was planning to run a bunch of errands I hadn't gotten done before starting to temp, and told him that. When I heard his response of, "Maybe some other time then?" I realized he'd been trying to ask me out. Oh.

Yes. So. The truth is, I had zero interest in going out with him. Even aside from not being physically attracted to him (and it's not because he's bald - there are plenty of hot, bald guys), there are other issues. I'm attracted to people who are smart. Nothing in our brief chats ever led me to believe he's smart. I'm attracted to people who are funny. To people who are the slightest bit extra nice. He did not seem to be any of these things. Plus, every day when I see this guy, he is wearing sweatpants. Not even just regular sweatpants, as if those aren't bad enough. No, he wears sweatpants with elastic around the ankles. Also, he tucks his t-shirts into the sweatpants. To say it's not a good look is a severe understatement. I never really liked the show Seinfeld, but sure did appreciate when Jerry spread the word that it's unacceptable to wear sweatpants in public.

Anyway. If you feel that I must be a snob for not liking this guy, and not wanting to go on a date with him, then so be it. You're attracted to whomever you're attracted to, and I'm not attracted to this guy on any level. I mentioned this asking-out to two people - my friend, and an associate who works here part-time. My friend told me, "Just tell him you have a boyfriend. You have to lie; it's the most humane thing to do." I agree with her. Any other reason I'd give for why I won't go to lunch will just translate to, "I don't like you." And even though I don't, he's not a bad person, just a bad dresser. No reason to make him feel badly.

The associate also told me to lie and tell him I have a boyfriend. But here's the reason it bothered me that she said that: she assumed I don't have one! My friend is my friend - she knows my life. The associate doesn't know I don't have a boyfriend! Why would she assume? Do I in some way LOOK unboyfriendable? I wanted to attack this point and force her to feel as badly as she'd (inadvertently) made me feel. I dug deep down, realized I felt nothing, and borrowed maturity from someone else in order to keep my mouth shut.

But it really hurt my feelings. And every time I think about it, it hurts my feelings all over again.

As If God Gave Me a Little Present

The lawyer I'm temping for has a personal assistant. She's a little weird, and that's not only my opinion - the office manager and another person have also mentioned it. She seems to treat me as if I'm below her, as if I work for her. I actually did her job for a short time last year, and I hated it. Oh, not that I hated being a personal assistant, but the lawyer doesn't have a designated desk for whoever fills the role. So you sit in an empty office, until the billing guy comes in, and then you move to the conference room, until someone needs to meet with clients, etc.

I like to know where "my" stuff is, "my" place is, when I'm working. So to not have a specific desk throws me. This PA makes herself at home at my desk. She takes my pens, moves my mouse to the wrong side (I'm a lefty), opens drawers in my desk to get whatever she needs. Now, the last person who was sitting at this desk, who was fired, threatened bodily harm to the PA, so I've been really gentle with her, because when I first started it was clear she was very wary.

A couple of times though, she has gotten angry at me when I haven't dropped what I'm doing to do something for her. Which will not do. We're both working for the same person. My job is to do anything related to the business, anything on the legal side. The PA's job is to do anything related to the lawyer personally. She should not be filling out forms for the lawyer's taxes but then giving them to me to photocopy. I am not HER assistant. Unfortunately, since she is a permanent employee and I am a temp, I can't get away with saying anything. What will have to happen is that I will have to be unable to get something done for the lawyer when he wanted, because I was doing something for his PA, so that he can go to her and say, "Hey, you shouldn't be giving Green documents to copy that I told you to work on/things to file."

She wants a very specific pencil case for work, and asked me to find it for her. Um, no. I did a quick check online at two office-supply stores and three minutes later told her I didn't see it, but that she may want to go to the stores in person.

I know that for the dynamics of this office, I'm doing the right thing. But it's hard to keep my mouth shut. Even though I really hate the phrase and pride myself on never ever saying it, the reality is that "it's not my job" to do things for the PA. I look forward to the day when she gets told that. For now though, I will console myself of the memory of her falling down the stairs last week.

Like the Conversation Never Happened

So I've been temping at this law firm where I've been before. This is my third time at this circus, and the most entertaining visit so far. The dirt will have to wait though, because as exciting as dirt is, there's something even more exciting, which is having this turn into a real job.

Last summer the guy almost hired me, and all that stopped him was the crazy expensive fee he'd have had to pay to the temp agency. When you register with a temp agency you sign a contract with them, stating that once they introduce you to one of their clients, you can not work directly for that client for x number of months. This was the place where I was earning less money working than I'd get from unemployment. But I stuck it out, for exactly this reason. Well, and because if unemployment finds out you turned down a job then that's grounds for not being paid UI. Oh okay, and yes, also because the longer I wasn't using up my pot of unemployment money, the longer it'd last. When I left he was sad, and assured me I could use him as a reference.

Anyway so today. He's interviewing. To hire someone to sit where I'm sitting. Though he told me something about wanting someone with paralegal experience. Which I don't have. I saw two of the resumes of people he was interviewing - one guy has been working as a paralegal for seven years and is currently in law school. I can't compete with that! Except that I can, because that guy is overqualified and would leave the second he got his JD. Well, or the second he passed the Bar.

So I'd tossed my hat in the ring on Monday, but didn't hold out much hope for anything but that it'd take the lawyer a long time to make a decision so I could keep earning money. Today, when he was about to walk out of the office to go see a client, he told me that next week he'd like to talk with me about making this permanent. I have a feeling he wants to wait until next week only because his beloved office manager is out sick this week and he wants to run it by her. She loves me and probably told him to snap me up before someone else does. I hope she doesn't die.

When he told me about talking next week, I pointed out that he could call himself on his cell phone from his office phone, since he said I could use him as a reference. He really liked that one, and laughed heartily, saying, "Touché." That's me, witty and breezy.

Let's make a deal, Internet Friends (some of whom have crossed over to Real Friends): if I get this job and turn into a Real Person, you'll get to read all about the story that involves the following nouns. 1. date 2. lunch 3. sweatpants

It has been oh so very long since I was a Real Person, what if I don't remember how to do it? Do you think I'll have some sort of low-level PTSD? Will the hives go away? Maybe it's like riding a bike. Which I haven't done since my early 20's. Well, maybe it's like swimming. Which I haven't done since I was 19. And to be honest, we can't really call that swimming. We can however call it "getting from one end of the pool to the other by myself without putting my feet on the floor of the pool."

I Don't Have a Lisp, But I'd Like One

A lisp is the kind of thing you can fake for a few minutes. Or each time you do a specific thing, like answering the phone. Although there's not much lisping you can do when saying, "Hello." But maybe you work somewhere and have to answer the phone saying, "Hello, so glad you've called Sam's Swing Shop. I'm ready to assist with all your sex questions as they pertain to swings. How may I best assist you this morning?" But yeah, so I love lisps. Lisps and stutters really, but you're so much more likely to find someone with a lisp than a good stutter these days. I guess lisps are more popular.

Anyway, one of the few things I love more than a good lisp is a trip-and-fall story. Many of you know this, and are so kind as to alert me by e-mail when you've found a trip-and-fall online, which I greatly appreciate.

I happen to have excellent balance generally, but every so often even I trip. Just as I would laugh at someone on the street tripping, I will also laugh at my own trips. On Thursday, I tripped. It was extra stupid of me, and here's why:

For the last two days, I've temped in Union Square, and on my lunch hour this past Thursday, wandered into a small clothing shop wedged between a North Face store and an H&M. When you walk into this store, there are about two meters of space, then one step up, then the clothes the store sells. They put a fluorescent orange tape border around the step, which I noticed and appreciated. I stepped up. I walked around, talked to the owner, and laughed quietly to myself at how pretentious he was. When he told me he makes all the clothes in the back, I asked if he was the designer. He answered that he hates the word designer, and when I asked what word he prefers, he said, "Artist and constructionist." Alrighty then.

So I wandered around the store, and to be frank, my jaw dropped. The clothes were fucking amazing. Outrageously expensive (a t-shirt that I could tell would significantly shrink even in a cold water wash cost over $100), but also outrageously creative. They made my brain explode, and I was strolling from rack to rack with a smile on my face. There was an A-line dress in a dark purple velvet, with a white lace underlay on the sleeves, and a big lacey pouf at the front. I can't say it was pretty or my style, but definitely appreciated the creativity of the design. And it wasn't just a store filled with velvet dresses. Everything was super-creative in wildly different ways. It really made me think, and I meandered towards the front door with my brain racing.

I forgot about that damn step and tripped down it, despite that orange tape. Giggled all the way back to work.