The Karma Executioner

The Turkey is tough to work with. He leaves you unsure if you're coming or going. You prepare for a meeting, and somehow wind up getting in trouble. He comes to talk to you about a client, then leaves abruptly in the middle of the discussion, then comes back to ask why you haven't done something else. Um, because you forgot to assign it to me?

On Tuesday we were scheduled to have a staff meeting at 9:30. I arrived at work, promptly printed out our client status sheet that gets reviewed at these meetings, made copies for everyone, and considered myself ready. Turkey did not arrive at the office until slightly after 11am. By that time, everyone had given up on the staff meeting and gone on to do other work. At ten after the hour, Turkey was in the office. He walked around telling everyone we were going to start our meeting now. People were deep in the middle of documents, on the phone with clients, etc. It took a few minutes for everyone to find a stopping point and gather in the conference room. When we got there, Turkey yelled at all of us about how disappointed he was that we weren't all prepared and timely.

One of my coworkers mentioned the feeling of being spun in circles with a blindfold on, multiple times, and then being told to walk a straight line - that feeling of not knowing what direction is straight, not knowing where to aim for first.

Today I had five calls scheduled for Turkey in the afternoon. I rarely know how long each call will take, so I guess and hope for the best. If I know for sure something will turn into a long call, I schedule that one last. This afternoon Turkey showed up for the day around 2:45pm (he had two lunches to go to today, yes two, and no, that's not usual - it's the first time he had two in one day). For the following two hours I kept that man running. Whatever he was doing, I was in his face, holding up a post-it, interrupting to tell him someone was on hold, reminding him a client was expecting his call eight minutes earlier. At one point, Turkey stood outside his office and turned in a slow circle, unsure of what direction to go in. Should he go back in the WASP's office to finish his conversation with her? Meet with the Office Manager to get payroll in on time (yes)? Go pick up the phone?

Our Baby Lawyer saw it and laughed. She told me it was great that he was finally feeling today the way he makes all of us feel on a regular basis. The phrase she used was "karma executioner" when saying how nice it was to see him getting a taste of his own medicine.

Grannies

I just realized today that I assume all old ladies are grannies, but pretty soon I'm going to be one of those old ladies and won't be a granny. Perhaps I should put it on my list of things to change about myself, right below "Say 'you're welcome' instead of 'no problem' and right above "Stop giving dirty looks to idiots who press the button for the wrong floor on the elevator."

Yesterday an old lady showed up at work. One of those super duper oldies who is hunched over at the shoulders and shakes and takes careful steps. She arrived during a very busy moment - four phone lines were ringing and another person was also standing at the counter needing my attention.

Many moons ago I worked at a tennis club that was often swamped and got told, "Always help the person standing in front of you before tending to the phones. That person made the effort to get in their car and come here." I have carried that with me for more than a dozen years. The other person standing there just wanted to serve me (not me personally, but I am allowed to accept service) so it was easy to get rid of him quickly.

The old lady was coming to drop off documents for our subtenant and pick up a letter. I knew this because one of our subtenants had called to ask if she could have me print out a two-page letter for me to give the client. The old lady needed to go through each concept slowly though, and I had all those phone calls holding.

One of the things I learned about old people in Florida is that they are used to be dismissed - they are our throwaways (in America). I didn't want to do that to her. Despite how slow she was, she was kind. I asked if she could give me a second, and I'd be right back to walk her through this. As I blew through calls, it seems she hadn't realized they'd been waiting, so when I got back to her she began to try to rush.

On our reception counter, we have about half a dozen business card stands, all filled with business cards of different attorneys, and she knocked over three of them. I told her not to worry, that I'd get them. You could see how much of an effort it was for her to move, and the idea of her crouching down, balancing to scoop up scattered business cards? No.

Today another old lady showed up, and instantly I smiled at her, "You must be the sister of the lady from yesterday - you look just like her!" She smiled and nodded, and her sister poked her head around to grin at me. They were so cute. They spent a few hours in our office, dropping their canes, slowly and carefully going up and down the stairs to my sunken living room to use the restroom, and when they were leaving they both wished me a happy Thanksgiving in case they didn't see me again. Then the first one I'd met yesterday reached out to me saying, "I'm sorry again about the cards yesterday; I was so embarrassed."

I waved my hand and told her, "I've already forgotten it happened," which of course wasn't true. It was was surprising to hear she was embarrassed. Anyone could have that happen. For some reason I always think of old people as not getting embarrassed anymore. Like they're above it, or something.

Messenger

Oh Turkey. You're Pigpen, in real life. You know it, and you aren't even ashamed of it. You don't care. Let's review what happened today, shall we? We normally have a staff meeting on Mondays at 9:30 wait let's stop. Staff meetings are scheduled for then, but they never start at that time. Why? Because of you, Turkey. Because you never arrive at the office then. Let's proceed. We all thought we weren't having the staff meeting this morning because you called an impromptu one last Friday. We were wrong though - you wanted one today. So we were all ready today at 9:25. All of us except you. You rolled into the office at 10:20 and asked if everybody was ready. Um, yes Turkey. The meeting went quickly since everything had been discussed one working day prior to today. Then you called me into your office.

"I did something really stupid, and I need you to help me." I nodded at you with wide and confident eyes. I have perfected this look. This look that says tell me all about how much of a fuckup you are, and I will not laugh to your face. Instead, I will fix it for you. Then I will race home to blog about it. 

Turkey, what have you done now? You drove to work and forgot your briefcase? The briefcase that has all the work you did over the weekend? Oh, and also the work you needed to finish up and get out to clients today? You're giving me what now? Your garage door opener and a key? You're giving me both because you can't remember if you left your briefcase on the floor of the garage or in the vestibule inside the locked door? Okay. I will call a messenger, have them come to the office to fetch these, then go to your house where they are to use one or both to find your briefcase. Upon fetching it, they are to close the garage door and bring the briefcase, garage door opener and key back to the office? Oh, and you drew me a diagram of where in their house they can go? Fine.

I call the messenger service. They send a guy. Who takes over an hour to get to our office. I hand him the stuff, and explain the diagram. He leaves. He returns with a briefcase and the stuff. I thank him. Turkey what did you say when I handed you the briefcase? That's right - you moaned, "Oh nooooo! That's the wrong briefcase! This is my laptop! How could he not tell that's a laptop briefcase?"

Turkey, because this is my blog, let me be honest with you here. I couldn't tell from the outside that the briefcase is a laptop briefcase. And that dude is a messenger. He rides a fucking bike for a living. You really think he's well-versed in different types of briefcases? No. No he is not.

So Turkey, in your infinite wisdom, tell me to get a messenger back, and this time, when they come to the office, they are to talk to you directly. Because of all of a sudden you are now magically able to recall exactly where the proper bag is in your house. Or your garage. So I call the messenger service. The woman goes silent. "It's okay to laugh, this whole thing is kind of ridiculously funny," I urge her. She laughs. We laugh together. I tell Office Manager what's going on, hand him the garage door opener and key, and leave for lunch.

When I get back to the building, Turkey you are standing in the lobby talking on your cell phone. I smile at you, and you gesture wildly at me. I nod wisely and proceed to the elevator, completely unsure of what you were trying to communicate to me. In our penthouse, I ask Office Manager what's going on. He tells me the messenger arrived, Turkey wasn't there, and since their instructions had been to talk to Turkey before going to his house and he's not there to talk with, they refused to go, and left our office. To say I laughed would be an understatement.

When you came upstairs Turkey, you were told this. Your solution was to announce that you would leave to go home and work from there in 15 minutes, and then promptly go to the bathroom. Where you dropped two sets of keys, which Office Manager was kind enough to pick up and get back to you, though you didn't acknowledge, let alone thank him. According to what had just happened you should have left the office by 2:50 (I took a late lunch).

Turkey, you left to begin work for the day at 4:45 p.m. Now I know this time change has screwed up a lot of people, but this is ridiculous. Let's pull our shit together and to better tomorrow, hmmm?

Can I Play?

When I was a little girl, my grandparents lived in Queens, NY. There were all these projects surrounding a playground, and I loved that when I stayed with them, we could go on a playground walk, and just a short walk away we could run across three or four playgrounds.

To me, this is the all-time best kiddie exchange to ever be experienced:

Kid walks up to group of kids already playing...something.

Kid: Hi, can I play?
Other kid, looking you up and down: How old are you?
Kid: Five ... and a half.
Other kid: Okay. Go stand over there.

And you run off in the direction they pointed, exhilarated, and only thinking two words as you run to your spot. I'M IN!

Then you start worrying you can't figure out what the hell game is being played, but console yourself with the plan that if the ball (because there's always a ball) comes near you, you'll catch it and start running and listen for the other kids to scream directions at you so you know where to run.

Meanwhile your grandma or grandpa sits on the bench, talking to an old-people friend who is there watching their grandchild while doing a crossword puzzle.

To me, that entire experience was the best part of staying in Queens. Making friends in the span of ten seconds, being accepted by 10 kids who've never met you before, simply because you tagged someone on the other team out or caught a ball or ran fast. This value system was so black and white, and worked well for me. On the bitchy, haughty part of Long Island where I grew up, there was a completely different value system, and it didn't work for me at all.

(I have been keeping an eye on what's going on in New York this week and wanted to write something positive about the city. This is what came out.)