Yes. Like the Magazine

Tomorrow is a client's big court date. Turkey is notorious for doing things last minute, and this case is no exception. So even though we've had this court date looming for a month, today was the day Turkey decided to begin working on the case. Except that last night he took the file home and this morning he brought it back to work. Except he didn't. Because he forgot the file. In someone's car.

Turkey didn't figure this out until the afternoon. Around 3pm he told me to call a guy to ask if he had the file. I called. A half hour later the guy called back. "The good news is I've got the file," he told me. Great! "The bad news is, I'm in Sacramento," he continued. Bummer! "But," he went on, "the other good news is I pulled over when I got your voicemail and I'm now parked in a strip mall that has a UPS store. They'll have it to you by tomorrow morning at 8am." Great!

This is a pretty big deal. If Turkey shows up unprepared for a case because he lost the client's entire file, well, the word malpractice pops up.

The funny part is while I was on the phone with the guy, he asked for the office address. My sunken living room office is in the highest floor of the building. Turkey likes to show off, in every possible way he can, so instead of just saying it's the 32nd floor, he tells everyone it's the penthouse. He makes us use the word "penthouse" in the address all the time. So I tell the guy the street address, and then say the word, "Penthouse."

There's a pause, and he asks, "As in the magazine?"

This Needs Washing Out

It's not new information to tell you my boss is a prick, but here's an example of his pricky-ness.

It was warm in our office, and Turkey had a scheduled meeting with three people. I confirmed with him that he wanted to hold the meeting in a certain conference room. Then he told me, "Put out a pitcher of water since it's hot out. And I'll want some too."

Normally I just ask people as they arrive if they'd like something to drink, but fine. I out five glasses, found a pitcher, rinsed it, and filled it with cold water. I didn't use the fancy silver pitcher already in the conference room because I vaguely remembered being told it was for decoration.

Turkey came out of the conference room with the pitcher I'd filled. He placed it on my desk, empty. "We're thirsty; you'd better fill up both." I raised my eyebrows, surprised that the water was already gone. Turkey told me, "It's really warm." So I said okay and went to fill up the pitcher he'd given me a second time.

When I walked into the conference room to deliver the second round of water, I couldn't reach the silver pitcher without leaning across the table, and not only would I have flashed the guy sitting across from where I was, but my body would have interrupted the conversation. Turkey however, didn't want to let me go without filling the silver pitcher, so he reached over, grabbed it, and passed it over, without even looking at me. "It needs washing out."

Dismissed, I turned and walked out. I rinsed the silver pitcher, filled it with cold water, then returned it to the table. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from pouring it in Turkey's lap. It's a very small comfort that he did that in front of clients.

Hi. You're Fat.

So this new lawyer woman started at work a couple of weeks ago. She's this tall, divorced, Indian woman. She has a teenage son. She seems to have previously lived in the Bay Area, though recently moved (back?) from the deep South.

I feel a little bad for her; she's the fourth woman at the firm, and the office manager, WASP and I are all pretty friendly. We talk books and friends and bitch about Turkey of course, and all kinds of things. I hope she doesn't feel too left out.

The other day I arrived at work having been up since 3am. The new lawyer told me it looked like I was tired, and I admitted yes, she was right. She told me the key was to train myself to ignore noises that might wake me, and that's how one can sleep through the night. Today she asked if I got more sleep, and after thinking back, I happily reported that yes, I didn't wake up until 5am this morning.

"Did you know if you get six or less hours of sleep it make you gain weight?" She then asked, "Have you ever tried yoga? You should try yoga." Oh, believe me, lady. I've fucking tried it all right.

So basically, I'm fat, all my problems are due to my fatness, and I should do things to be less fat. Well thanks, it's lovely to work with you as well.

You've Been Served

My office sub-leases office space to a few other lawyers. This means sometimes people show up to see them, people drop things off for them, etc. Not all the of lawyers are in our office full-time. One entire law firm has their main office in another part of the Bay Area, and they rent a small space from us. Every so often they call us and request to reserve the conference room or small office, and they show up for a few hours.

On Thursday, an old woman came in and announced she wanted to serve me. I asked who exactly, she wanted to serve. She mentioned one of our sub-tenants. Immediately I picked up the phone to call that lawyer's other office, to make sure it was kosher to accept service on their behalf. The lawyer was really nice, and assured me it was okay. He told me the woman was a new lawyer and imagined she was quite young. As she looked on, I stammered, "Uhh... it's actually in the opposite direction." There was a pause, and then, "Oh!"

This woman's hands were shaking! She was TERRIFIED. So, let's talk a little bit about process servers. Across the board, they're usually men. Now, sometimes it can be a dangerous job. Some people become really hostile when they get served. Usually men. If you're serving a corporation it's no big deal. But say a battered wife is filing for divorce and having an abusive husband served. Say the abusive husband with a temper gets served at work. They get embarrassed. They get loud. They then attract the attention of their coworkers and then feel humiliated that everyone knows. Then they get violent. Some people really do kill the messenger.

Anyway. Lawyers can act as process servers (in certain circumstances, maybe only in certain states), as this woman was. I've never seen any lawyer so blatantly nervous. She didn't arrive at our offices prepared, which struck me as unprofessional. When you're delivering documents, the documents should be in final, bound, stapled or clipped together neatly, and ready to be handed over.

This woman spread everything out on the front counter, and created a big mess of paperwork. The image of Pig-Pen came to mind. At one point, she asked me if she needed to clip the paperwork together. It's possible my jaw dropped before I collected myself enough to tell her, "I'm not a lawyer, so I really can't give you any legal advice." I wanted to shout, "Pull yourself together, woman! Think about what you're saying!" Even a layperson should know the answer to that one. If you're handing someone a document, should it look messy, or should it look professional? This is not rocket science. Clearly nerves had gotten the better of this woman. It was sad.

On Friday, the sub-tenant showed up, and wanted to confirm he'd reserved the conference room for an up-coming deposition. I love depositions! This news made my day. People get really freaked out if while they're speaking, someone is writing down every single little thing they say. And as long as a deposition is about individuals rather than corporations, emotions are flying high and you can count on drama.

The sub-tenant then informed me that the nervous lawyer would be at the deposition. He laughed as my eyes lit up in excitement. I hope they leave the conference room door open so I can listen!

Facts of ... Work

For the last two days, Turkey's been walking around with a weird mark on his face. There was some minimal contemplation as to what it could be. Ring worm? It was as if none of us felt mentally prepared to stumble across some sordid truth.

Today Turkey came up to my desk and announced, "Are you just being polite, or did you really not notice this?" while pointing to his cheek. I gave a shit-eating grin and replied, "I'm super polite! But, are you okay? What happened?" Turkey explained that he was playing ball (he plays ball once a week) and got hit in the face by the ball. I gasped! "Did you fall down?" Turkey beamed at my attention and concern. "I did. I did fall down! Then I shook myself off, got some water, and went right back into the game." I nodded approvingly. "That's what a real athlete does." That comes across as sort of kiss-asseque but I really mean and believe it.

Today when Turkey came back from his therapy session (I'm not supposed to know that) he gave me a bouquet of flowers. I sputtered out all the appropriate wows and thank yous and asked what the occasion was. Turkey smiled and said he didn't want to make my ego any bigger "but let's just say you're very professional and classy and it's noticed."

HA HA HA! He thinks I'm classy! Turkey then went into a meeting. The Wasp came over to ask why he gave me flowers. I shrugged. "Guess all those blowjobs are finally paying off." Yeah. Because I'm classy.

Summer 2011: Airing of the Grievances

1. Not identifying yourself when calling someone. It's one thing when you're calling your friend that you've known for seven years, someone you're so close with that you know her husband only has one ball from that time he fell funny on the monkey bars. But when you're calling your lawyer's office? You need to realize that I *will* lie to you, with zero hesitation about whether or not Turkey is in the office, depending on who you are. You can't possibly know all the criteria, so you've got to just hope for the best, hope you're at the top of Turkey's priority list and announce yourself. Every single time I call anyone Turkey works with, I say, "Hi! This is Green, from Turkey Burnstein's office. How are you?" I ask how they are not because I care, but to give them time to process what I said and figure out who I am. When I answer the phone and a voice just starts talking at me (and no, my law firm does not have caller ID), I am not going to give out any information about whether Turkey is available to talk, or to meet with their expert, until I know who they are. Please, I beg of you. Practice saying your name, and when you call someone, announce it.
   
2. Shit, I forgot.
3. Oh yeah. In New York, when you are buying something in a store, the cashier tells you, "That'll be $1.82." In response, you say, "Out of $2," while digging out two singles. As soon as you tell the cashier how much you'll be providing, they start pulling together your change, based on that. Thus, you hand over the bills in one hand and the cashier puts your change in the other hand. This doesn't work in San Francisco, and it drives me nuts. If I say, "Out of $2," nothing happens. The cashier just stands there looking at me. This is supposed to be such a trusting place. People hitchhike here! Why don't they believe the money's coming? It could save so much* time!
   
4. Being habitually late. It's one thing if Something's Happened and you're late. Especially if you call the person to say you're running late. But to be late for everything, every single time? Completely unacceptable. It says you have zero respect for the other person. For the time they took out of their day to make time for you. Turkey is late for everything. For everyone. He will schedule a meeting for 10am, show up at 10:14 (or 10:44, whatever), and say to the person, "Oh, you're early!" I started noticing lately that I disregard every deadline Turkey gives me. Because he doesn't stick to his own schedules and deadlines, what's the purpose of stressing myself out to stick to them? He's constantly telling me something "must!" go out today, and three weeks later it will still be waiting for his final approval. If someone has a kid, I give them a pass. Maybe their kid saw a rock on the ground and were fascinated and needed to talk about it Right Then while staring at it. Or maybe your dog slipped past your legs when you opened the door to leave and you're late because you had to run after it. Or maybe you're in trial. Things happen. But when you're late for everything? All the time? Unacceptable.

*Yes, it saves like thirty seconds. But those second can add up!