Humbling

Today I applied for a job. It has a salary range. The highest end of the range is over $20k lower than my last job (GQ) paid, and he paid $3k less than Turkey did.

I'm not going to lie. It really hurts. It's a job in a law firm, so I spent at least an hour in bed last night whispering my answer to the interview question "why do you want a job that pays so significantly less than what you were earning before?"

It's hard to come up with a good answer.

1. Well look when I was working - clearly I can't be picky. (Attracts attention to gap in resume)
2. I want something lower pressure. (Being a legal secretary is not high pressure)
3. I wanted to try something new within the legal industry. (Attracts attention to my lack of experience)
4. I thought it would be fun to expand my experience. (Will they be offended that I want to use their job for fun?)
5. Ugh, because I am desperate and just need a fucking job for my mental health already! (Overshare)

So yeah. I need to prepare for an interview for a job that I both need and don't want. Oh, and the person who brought this position to my attention warned me they've had trouble keeping people in the seat because there's zero room for advancement.

But it pays significantly more than nothing. It even pays more than double what unemployment pays (which is no good for my mental health, plus provides no health insurance, plus runs out). So I will continue working to come up with an answer to why I want this job to be prepared for an interview (we're thinking positively!) and will make sure my attitude is right before walking in the office door. 

The End of The End Days

We had this client. Judy. This nice older Italian lady from New York. Who has a house in San Francisco. Who also happened to be dying of recurring breast cancer. Judy spends her time flying between Sloan Kettering in New York and Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. She spends all her money on her health and her legal problems.

I've probably told you before that Turkey is a psychopath. I actually looked up the definition of that and sociopath to figure out which one he was. Why yes, I DO (not) have a degree in psychology, obtained from Google University! The only thing Turkey doesn't fit is the torturing animals thing. Anyway, one of Turkey's cute personality quirks is that when he knows of a weakness in someone, he digs in. Visually, I see it as someone pointing out a bullet hole, and Turkey taking two fingers, pushing them into the hole, wiggling them around until the wound starts bleeding, then skipping off into the sunset, confused about why the person is angry at and hurt by him. I have watched him do this to people. More than once.

Sometimes Judy is only in town for a day and a half. One time Turkey insisted she had to come to the office to go over something. During a heat wave. At a time when Judy had just gotten off a cross-country flight and was preparing to fly to Los Angeles the next day. Turkey is notorious for being late. Severely late. Also, for jumping up in the middle of a meeting to run to the toilet while his ass explodes. Multiple times. So Judy showed up to our office, and she didn't look good. I immediately got her some cold water. She was pale and sweating. Her hair was a mess. I felt awful that she'd been hauled over to our offices when she clearly didn't feel well. Parking her in the conference room with water, I went to let Turkey know she'd arrived.

Of course, he had her sit. And sit. I kept checking on her every 15 minutes. Turkey kept making her wait while he worked in his office on something he claimed had come up that was "urgent," his favorite word. Judy waited almost an hour. Finally I pointed out to Turkey that he had another appointment coming up, after Judy's, and did he want me to cancel that. No, no he did not.

It was awkward. I'd go into the conference room, apologize to Judy, ask if she needed more water, maybe a Snapple, and she'd just ask if Turkey knew she was there. "Oh yes, I told him when you arrived, and have been reminding him every 15 minutes." He just doesn't care. Had Judy not really needed legal advice, I think she would have left. She looked worse and worse. Finally, after Judy had been waiting almost an hour and a half, Turkey "realized" the time.

Calling me into his office, Turkey told me to reschedule Judy. "Turkey, she's been waiting for over an hour!" He looked at me as if I was nuts. "Well, I have an appointment, what do you want me to do?" I stared at him like the idiot he was. "Be late for it, and meet with the person who made the effort to get to your office despite not feeling well." If you're thinking, "Isn't it kind of inappropriate to talk to your boss this way?" the answer is yes, and I knew I was taking a gamble.

Turkey was quietly loving it. He thrives on drama. Even if it's the type of drama that makes people angry at him. You can just see his body language get happy - I've never seen anything like it before.

Wondering what happened to Judy? Well, I suggested to Turkey that he have her walk downstairs and ride to his destination with him, and then he could just get out of the cab and give her money for the cab to take her home. That way he could get to his meeting without losing time but he'd still be honoring his commitment to Judy. Turkey refused.

Instead, he literally SNUCK OUT OF THE OFFICE on the coattails of a couple of delivery people complete with crouching down and everything, leaving us to tell Judy ... whatever. I almost cried. I was so embarrassed to be working for this idiot, and so angry and frustrated on her behalf. Judy couldn't quite comprehend what I was telling her at first. But ... did he realize she'd been waiting for him? Yes, yes he did. Did he realize she was only in town a short time? Yes, yes he did. And that she wasn't feeling well and had hauled herself over here despite that? Yes, yes he did. I did not make any excuses past the initial, "Turkey asked that I apologize that he had to miss this meeting, and that we reschedule when you'll next be in town."

Judy stared at me in shock, trying to wrap her head around what had been done to her. I walked her all the way down to the street and hailed a cab for her while she waited in the shade. Then Turkey fired her.

So you may understand why I rejected Turkey's offer of two weeks of severance pay in exchange for signing his release of claims, and said that I hoped he would consider putting the money he saved in not paying my severance, towards the Judy's bill, so he's suing the woman dying of breast cancer for less money. Office Manager did the same thing. Turkey probably won't reduce her bill. Judy will never know what we did. But every time I think about whether or not I'm an idiot to have foregone the money, the decision made feels like the right one.

Fun With Bosses!

We have sub-tenants. I do stuff for them. Sometimes I am asked to do stuff for them that falls outside of the parameters of what is appropriate. That happened Thursday. I spoke with Office Manager about it. He in turn, spoke with Turkey about it. And then this happened Friday! That check is gonna be sooooo big!
 

From: Turkey Lawyerstein
Sent: Friday, August 10, 2012 10:30 AM
To: Green Yogurt
Subject: Sub-tenant

I was going to call him this afternoon.  Before I do,  I want to make sure I am assuming things correctly.  I assume that this is not about money, but the frustration.  And not sure that money makes up for the frustration.   I only ask because the previous person at your desk said she would put up with the frustration if my subtenant paid her for very limited duties such as reception, sorting mail, greeting guests  asking them if they want a beverage.    And my subtenant gladly did so.      Please tell me if you feel the same way as the recent person, as I do not want to deprive you of an opportunity if you want one.

 

		From: Green Yogurt Sent: Friday, August 10, 2012 1:32 PM To: Turkey Lawyerstein Subject: Sub-tenant

There are two separate issues.

1.      What Office Manager discussed with you yesterday, and what I have been forced to pull you in to deal with on a couple of occasions – when clients of Sub-tenant are interrupting me to ask questions about their case, asking me to make voluminous photocopies for them, asking me to write or review a check for them, asking a question about their opposing party, etc. There are already five employees of Lawyerstein & Associates breaking my concentration multiple times a day to ask me questions, give me work, etc. In addition to that the phones are often very busy.  There are also deliveries coming in throughout the day, plus people coming to me to ask other coworkers’ schedules, coworkers informing me when office machinery has broken down, etc. On top of all that, I am trying to get filing done, create closing binders, help train someone with zero legal and little office experience, fix mistakes made by the personal assistant, update various lists we keep, and a myriad of other duties.  I am often rushing to complete assignments for you within a reasonable timeframe, and simply do not have time to stop my work to stand in front of the copy machine un-stapling documents to copy and re-compile them for subtenants’ clients.  Making a quick copy of one check is understandable, but having to spend ten or more minutes at the copier during a busy time of day is very difficult. Having to take time away from my work for you to explain to a Sub-tenant client why it would be unethical or create liability issues for me to review checks or documents, or answer questions is both time-consuming and stressful (due to having to deal with the client’s unhappiness with my inability to do what they want). 

2.      In your email below you write that the person in my position previously would put up with frustration related to limited duties such as reception, sorting mail, greeting guests and asking if they want a beverage because your subtenant paid them to do that.  I HAVE BEEN DOING ALL OF THOSE THINGS FOR OVER A YEAR WITHOUT REIMBURSEMENT FROM THE SUBTENANTS.  When I started working here, it was implied that doing the above tasks was simply part of my job.  Based on what you say below however, that is not the case, so I am requested to be paid retroactively for the year-plus of doing these tasks.  These tasks, in addition to reserving the conference rooms for subtenants, is not at all a problem.  The problem is when the clients of subtenants come to the office and take up my time by asking questions, discussing their surprise at finding out that nobody from Sub-tenant is here for them to talk with, requesting I review or copy documents, etc. It seems that Sub-tenant clients are led to believe there is a full office here, with Sub-tenant attorneys, their files, and staff of whom they can ask questions.  Obviously this is not the case, but I am the person who has to break this news and then deal with their disappointment, confusion and questions, all of which is time-consuming.

Thank you for taking the time to address this issue.  

Now guys,  that paragraph where Turkey is emailing to me? All I changed were the proper nouns. Sentence structure, punctuation, spacing, etc. All his. To be honest, that's one of his best emails. If you took out the extra spaces and the "And"'s that start two sentences it would practically pass as a paragraph written by someone with an Ivy League education. In case you were wondering, Turkey wrote back to me (he was out of the office last week) suggesting that we discuss this "live" on Monday. I can't wait. Oh, and here's a fun tidbit: Sub-tenant never paid the person in my position previously. That's right, Turkey lied. Poor Turkey was a bit delirious yesterday. He was out of town at his country home (in the country), and told me that on Thursday it was 105 degrees. He's been doing a lot of construction on his home, and I joked, "Project number one: Air conditioning!" and Turkey responded, "Oh no. That's too expensive. I have a fan. But I can't figure out how to put it together." On Friday he still hadn't gotten the fan going.  Sometimes these blog posts practically write themselves. 

This Type of Waste

I think it was 2009 or 2010 when I lived for an entire year, including unemployment, on $19,000.  In the year-long moment I didn't realize it. It was only when I was doing my taxes for the previous year that I saw, and then cried. In San Francisco, that's not a lot of money for a year. Maybe it is in the Kentucky mountains or something. But not here.

Our prior office manager filed for unemployment. Turkey appealed. She fought the appeal. It went to a hearing. The hearing took so long that they needed to schedule a second hearing, to hear even more information. Turkey brought in his employment attorney to prep and attend both hearings. To date, he's spend $33,000 in legal bills on this.

Ask me how much his unemployment insurance would go up if Prior Office Manager is awarded unemployment. Go ahead, ask me. Okay, I'll tell you. IF five (or eight? I forgot the exact number) former employees file for it and are receiving at the same time, then Turkey's unemployment insurance payments go up LESS THAN 1%!

You know how there are all kinds of rules and regulations companies have to follow, as long as they have 20 or more employees? Yeah. Turkey has fewer than three full-time employees. He's got me, and Current Office Manager. Everyone else is part-time or an independent contractor. So I'm pretty confident in saying that less than 1% of Turkey's unemployment insurance payments are less than $33,000. 

Thus, Turkey wasted money. This is not the first time he's done something like this. He's gone to arbitration with former clients over outstanding legal bills and spent tens of thousands of dollars in time (he bills out at over $400 an hour, so it's pretty easy to calculate), all in an effort to get that former client to pay $2,000 that Turkey believes they owe him.

It's no joke to say that I could live on $33,000. Not well, but I could do it. It's things like this that cause me to have almost no respect for Turkey.

I'm Not Josie Grossy Anymore!

Last year I was really poor. Food stamp poor. Literally. Having friends mail you tampons poor. Literally. I have now been working for more than half a year. I've built up a small savings. I've taken a couple of people out finally, people who've held me up financially and emotionally.

While I was poor, I did a very good job of it. That thing where you write down every single thing you spend money on to see where your money goes? I didn't have to, because I knew, down to the penny. I spent nothing unless it was an absolute need. Even then, I went without several needs.

Now that I can fulfill all my needs and even some of my wants, turns out I still think like I'm poor. Can't seem to stop. While I was poor, I remember wondering how it was changing me, and if once I got a job I'd snap out of it, or if it was a permanent thing. Maybe this is like losing weight after having a baby? Where it takes as long as you were out of work, to get comfortable spending the money you now earn at work?

So I have this ugly, heavy black bag. It's so ugly that it's barely even appropriate to be bringing into a law firm every day. But I use it because it's what I have. For the last I don't even know how long, I've been looking for something nicer. Not hundreds of dollars nice, just like, nice-yet-inexpensive-since-it's-now-at-Marshalls nice. I love nothing more than finding a good bargain. Yet I couldn't pull the trigger. I couldn't bring myself to spend $80 (or even $40) on a bag. Even when my mother tried to buy me one last month, I couldn't commit.

Too much time was spent convincing myself I didn't need things when I couldn't afford them, that I didn't need to buy anything that struck my fancy because "the world won't stop creating awesome stuff" that I couldn't move away from that thinking. $50 is NOT AT ALL a lot of money to spend on a bag, especially a black one that would get used every day. I'm not one of those people who has 30 bags. I have fewer than half a dozen.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking with Golden Boy, and this came up. He said something to the effect of this not being a life-long commitment. That it's just a bag, and if I wind up hating it, I can get another one at some point. He didn't actually say anything I didn't know. Sometimes you just need to hear things out loud. Today I found a bag. The leather feels soft, not plastic-y. It was 60% off, at a discount shoe store. There are pockets, it's black, and I spent less than $35. Pretty sure I won't wind up hating this.

Permanent

It's official. As of yesterday I am a permanent employee at Turkey, LLP. I am officially a real person* again.

I need to pay off my debts. According to the judgment from Small Claims, I owe 9am a chunk of change. Less, much less, than he sued me for, but still. I owe my parents money. Last time they were in town, my dad said as far as he's concerned, I should pay off the "official" debts and pay him back last.

There are wedding and baby presents to be bought. There are so, so very many people I want to take out to dinner for all their support. And by "out to dinner" I mean "to Hawaii for a two-week vacation."

One of my priorities is to move out of my apartment. Right now I am tentatively thinking about trying to make that happen after the summer is over.

I'm going to find out if I should be paying 9am through the courts. I want to pay him once and be done with it, and I may have to pay interest, so I'm going to deal with this debt first. Then I will pull my credit report and pay off debts based on that. My hope is this will all be done within a year.

In other news, Turkey found the check the client gave him. It was in one of his briefcases, and he found out standing like 15 feet from me. Also, today he called my cell phone after I'd left work at 5:30. Twice. Both times for things he should have been able to figure out himself. One time for something that could have waited until tomorrow.

*I don't mean that if you don't work you're not a real person. I mean that when I don't work, I have no money and can't participate in life like a regular person does.

May Madness

Getting what you want is never quite as good as you think it'll be. It's really hard to go from zero to sixty and that's what I did, literally. This lawyer had me working tons of overtime - so much that some nights I just came home, set my alarm for the morning, and flopped into bed for the night. The having money part is great. The structure to the day is great. It's just hard ramping up. Now he is away in Europe for a couple of weeks, so there's no more overtime while he's gone. Hopefully (sort of) he will make me a permanent employee when he returns from his vacation.

One of the great things about working is it streamlines my reading. I read on my lunch hour every day, and then a couple of chapters at night to calm down enough to go to sleep. When I think about how libraries were in the pre-computer days it makes me sad for all the library goers. How awesome is it to read a magazine, see reviews of books that interest you, reserve them and get an e-mail telling you the books are ready for you to pick up? Remember the olden days when we needed to just go there and hope they had what we wanted? Or when we needed to haul our asses all the way there just to reserve a book?

Meanwhile, one friend died and another friend seems to have dumped me. The first was expected and a years-long, drawn-out process while the other was sudden and shocking. I have cried over both. I have so few friends that to lose one for any reason slays me.

On the home front, the washing machine ate $2 worth of quarters this evening, so a letter was written to the landlord and dropped in the box where rent's supposed to go. Hopefully he will reimburse like he did last time.

There is a little Indian toddler who lives on my floor. She goes with her mother to do laundry, and likes to follow me around any time we see each other. Once she followed me into my house, and I almost stepped on her by accident. I haven't seen her in a few months, but tonight on the way home I saw a little Indian baby who is just the cutest thing, and I want to steal her. There seem to be a lot of babies living here - over a dozen. I count them based on the strollers kept all over the hallways. The landlord likes to write yelly memos in all caps that he puts up around the building, but they're in English and a lot of people here don't read English.

So You Think You Can Dance is starting up in a few weeks, and I'm very excited. Few things make me as happy as seeing people dance who love it.

I have a secret. I have volunteered at the same place for ... two years? There are four or five guys who are there. They all have names like Peter and Steve and I have zero idea which name goes with any of the guys. Of course at this point, not only do they all know my name, but it's been too long and it'd be awkward to ask now. Normally I'm better with names than this - I don't know why the block exists here. I do know the name of the volunteer coordinator, if that redeems me at all.

So that's what is going on here. What's going on with you?

Let's All Sit in a Circle

I love that rush I get when discovering not only a new author I love, but one who's written tons of stuff. That rushing thrill of New! Reading! Material! Then you curl up inside all that reading, and when you emerge in a daze with the way you think about things changed for life, in the back of your head all that's going through your head is What the hell will I read now? Wow. I guess I just really, really love reading.

I just need to pause to say that my apartment hallway is very echo-y, and I can always hear everyone who walks by, talks, or makes any noise. Right now a very chipper older late is talking to a man with a heavy Spanish accent who is responding to her politely but you can hear in his voice he wants to get away. Anyway, the point is, this woman has the same squeaky voice as my old cousin Clara, who was old for my entire life. She always used to confuse me with my mom, and it really made me twitch when she'd tell me, thinking I was my mom, that she remembers when my mother was alive. My mother *IS* alive, it's *HER* mother who died! Get it right, woman! Of course I could never say that - I'd just listen to her tell me stories about "my" mom and commit them to memory so I could tell my mom later, and she could collect other people's memories about the mother she didn't get enough time with.

Moving on! Back to reading! Good blogs are a great thing to discover because bloggers have archives. Archives mean days of reading material. I'm always flattered when I, my blog, represents that to someone else. People I'd never meet in real life. People who, even if I met, would agree we had nothing in common. Except people will write more than they will say (if their family isn't reading), so you can find those commonalities after all.

Charlene from -lifedramatic- recently found my blog and not only is she reading the archives, but she's commenting on things I'd forgotten about writing. She responded to an old post where I solicited questions with hers, and here's her list, along with my answers.

1. Don't keep me in suspense. Did you ever get a camera? What kind? Where are the pictures?? :)
Yes, I was given a camera. I don't know how to say what kind of camera it is properly, so I've gone meta and taken a picture of it with Photoshop for you. It says it's a Panisonic Lumix, with 5.0 megapixels and um yeah. I really, really want to be one of those people who takes their camera everywhere they go and takes cool pictures of a sewer grate or a businessman fixing his sock that make people stop and think, but I haven't reached that level. Then, before I could keep trying to reach it, my camera used up all its battery juice and buying new batteries for a camera simply is not a priority when you're scraping together money for rent each month, you know? So that's where I'm at with my camera.

A couple of years ago I went to LA, and I did take some awesome pictures if I do say so myself. I crossed a foot bridge in Santa Monica and took a picture of a Coke cup discarded carefully on a step that I really liked (yet can't find now). It doesn't help that I don't understand Flickr - why are the pictures I've taken in Photoshop on Flickr, and how did they get there? Where is my precious Coke cup picture? Where are all the old pictures I took on my camera and (thought I) uploaded to Flickr?

2. You mentioned you were in therapy for a long time. I'm in therapy now. Have been since my first husband started cheating on me, and never left her. I see a lot of things through your posts that I should be doing but haven't been able to yet. For example, doing things to help me not feel depressed. I find that I kind of wallow in the depression, like I'm in a maze and I can't really find my way out. How do you do it?
Wow. Well. Two or three things.
1. I am sorry your first husband cheated on you. It seems more common these days for people to forgive that, and although this may fall into the "you can't know until you're in that situation" I don't think I'd be able to forgive that. I believe in the "if you aren't into me enough to not cheat on me, then just break up with me honestly" religion.
2. Let's be honest here, okay? I'm not always able to snap out of it. Being out of work is very, VERY difficult. A little while before moving out of Florida my messiness reached an overwhelming head, and another person had to come in to help dig me out. I swore to myself it would never get to that point again. It hasn't, but I have been known to send in my unemployment form a week or two late because I lost it in the pile of stuff on my ottoman and haven't had the wherewith all to dig it out. So, I'm not perfect.

At least a decade ago I read an article in Newsday about how people with learning disabilities function better if their outside world is neat and organized. It took me several years to get my life in line with that, and found it was true. My brain is so busy translating what people have said into words and concepts I understand (and then I have to race to listen and process while also listening to their next thought and saving that for translation while responding to the first thing) that it creates more work when things are physically a wreck. So I try to stay neat. When I don't, I have absolutely noticed a correlation between seeing a wreck and my heart sinking and becoming overwhelmed.
3. The way I do it when I'm doing it is, I have a set schedule. So when I'm working, I know what errands I'll run on my lunch hour on which day, and which days I'll go to the library after work. When I wake up I smooth out my blanket to make my bed look neat (tucking in the blanket takes too long). On weekends I buy five breakfasts (or one cardboard tin of Quaker's Instant Oatmeal) so I'll have quick breakfasts each morning I'm at work. I feel no difference (other than hunger) between eating breakfast and not in terms of being productive, but study after study, decade after decade swears eating breakfast is good for you, so I eat a healthy one.

I keep in mind when I'm depressed all the other times I've been depressed (yes, I realize that sounds depressing) and that if I can just force myself to shower and get dressed, then I'll be able to take out the garbage, which will mean I'll be ready to go through mail that's piled up, etc. Things can spin out of control. But they can also spin into the control if you just start the spin. You have to find what will start your spin.

3. What would you do if your neighbor got a pig and you had to hear it grunting and squealing when you were trying to relax? (Seriously, this just happened to me...)
Charlene, this does not sound pleasant ... wait. Is it a baby pig? Because those things are cute! Did you see the movie with that Dawson's Creek kid who played Knox and his friend had a pig named Bacon?

To answer your question, I would ask the city/town if this was legal, and if it was not, because I'm somewhat passive-aggressive I'd consider reporting them. In the meantime though, I might ask the neighbors if they could move their pigpen to the center of their yard so the noise was traveling so well into my space, and I'd look into what kind of white noise I could employ to drown out the pig noise. Wind chimes probably wouldn't cut it, huh?

4. I've always wanted to visit California and SF in general! I love seafood. Do you like any seafood? (I know you said you are a picky eater).
Yes, I love seafood too. Every time I am at Whole Foods I check to see if the scallops are on sale. I'm not sure I've found any stellar seafood restaurants here, but I haven't specifically looked, and don't dine out much these days.

5. Have you ever been to whereever it is you can go to see the seals there? Seals are smelly, but they're cute too.
I think you're talking about Pier 39, where there are sea lions. Yes, I've been there. More than once. Maybe it does for other people, but for me, it never gets old to see the sea lions sunning themselves and pushing each other into the water, and flopping back up to dry off from a swim.

6. What's your favorite thing about SF?
People ask this a lot. I don't have a good answer. This is the first major city I've ever lived in, so I really have nothing to compare it to. I love that the weather makes it easy to spend time outdoors. I love that there's tons of free stuff to do and watch. You can make a full day out of watching the Gay Pride Parade, a full morning out of watching Bay to Breakers take off and then going to the Ferry Building for the farmer's market. You can surround yourself with tourists or escape them by going to the places tourists never know about. You can learn (if you're me) how to become comfortable being the only white person on the bus. Hell, you can learn how to use city buses, something that was foreign and scary to me at first.

This is the place where I learned how to make friends. Where I learned to cut myself a little slack. Where I got to hone the art of agreeing to disagree, of stretching my mind to see other people's viewpoints. I don't know that these things happened because I am in SF, just that they happened while I was here. But when I have entertained thoughts of leaving here and moving elsewhere, I have worried "what if I can't make friends?"

7. I grew up in North Miami, FL. It sounds like when you were in FL you were in the Pompano area. Why did you move there?
You nailed it. I moved to Florida because I wanted to move out of my parent's house. When I looked at apartments on Long Island, they were all depressing illegal basement apartments in the back of people's homes. I distinctly remember looking at one with my dad, and then quietly telling him, "This is the kind of place that's great for committing suicide." My grandpa lived in FL - he had an apartment in an old-people community, and mostly lived at his girlfriend's apartment (in the same community). When I considered the idea of moving to Florida, he allowed me to stay at his place for a few months while I got myself established. I knew of one girl around my age when I moved to Florida, and she was a real estate agent. She showed me four apartment complexes, all places she'd show her sister, and I picked the one with the most natural sunlight. The master closet was big enough for a controlled cartwheel. There was a laundry pantry in the kitchen. There was so much space in that apartment that I had multiple empty cabinets. So that's why I moved to Florida, the specific city within Florida, and the specific apartment complex.

8. Will you please post a comment or two on my blog? :)
Already done!

Christmas Time Randoms

1. The place I'm temping at keeps getting all these holiday cards. One has a picture of a red bird on the front, and underneath it says "Red bird" and another has a winter motif and underneath it says "Winter." So when one came in with a green dragon on the front I couldn't resist and took a little post-it, wrote "Green dragon" and put that on the card. Everyone who's noticed has laughed.

2. I had a lovely chat with my friend Nina the other night, and it turned out to be fascinating. She had a different perspective on something that happened in both our childhoods that blew my mind.

3. I've been reading the books The Highly Sensitive Person and The Highly Sensitive Child, by Elaine Aron. More blowing of the mind.

4. In trying to mail a package today, I found a post office near work, in Chinatown. When I got there, a sign was on the door saying they would reopen at 1:45pm. I waited until 1:55 before deciding the guy was not coming back in a timely fashion and practically speed-walked back to work. Decided I would go to the post office near my house on the way home. Walked there in the rain only to find they'd closed. Foiled again! So I'm pretty sure unless I priority overnight via FedEx, my package will not arrive on the East Coast until several days after Christmas, when I mail it tomorrow. Whoops. Hopefully the thought really does count.

5. During the course of each day I distribute files to paralegals and attorneys, and re-file files they're finished with, all via a file cart. The cart has one wonky wheel though, so the cart is always pulling to one side. That wouldn't be so hard to manage if I weren't also trying to keep piles of files from sliding off the cart. The office manager heard me mumble, "Slippery little fuckers" last week and giggled at me.

Today, when I was hauling a cartful of files towards the filing cabinets, as I walked past the Christmas tree the cart pulled to one side as usual, but with the momentum it pulled a bit harder than usual, and knocked into the tree. The tree started to tip. My first thought was how this was going to look to the employees, that they would think "That jew ruined Christmas!" So I lunged to catch the tree before it hit the ground. I caught it in a bear hug and leaned it back towards the center. As I was doing this a partner walked by, stopped, and asked what I was doing. I didn't want to admit to having not been as careful of the tree as I should have, so I said the first thing that came to mind. "I just love Christmas SO MUCH!" The partner smiled and told me it's her favorite holiday as well before walking off. I don't know why my gut instinct was to lie.

6. A woman who works at the temp agency that placed me at this law firm showed up at the firm today. There is no nice way to say this, but she looks horrible. So horrible that I didn't even recognize her until she spoke. I was really shocked and hope everything is okay in her life. Anyway, I know that sometimes when the agency doesn't have anyone they can send on an assignment she sometimes fills in, and I immediately worried that she was there because the firm had complained about me and was going to step in to cover the position. Turned out she was just dropping off a present for the firm. Then this afternoon the office manager asked me to pop into her office and again, I assumed the worst - that I was being fired and the temp agency worker convinced the firm to let me finish out the day.

Turned out I was wrong, mostly. The office manager told me that Wednesday will be the last day that they need me to work. The office is closed Thursday and Friday, and they anticipate business being very slow next week. So despite all the bitching I've done about how difficult the job has been, of course I am sad. Both about the loss of income and the loss of structure to my days.

7. In case you are not aware, it's been raining a lot in California. Like, many days and many inches of rain. People are all in a tizzy about this. Aside from the frizzball my hair becomes in the rain, I don't really mind it. A few years ago, I wandered through the Lands End section of Sears, and bought a lightweight rain jacket. Turns out it keeps me perfectly warm (enough for San Francisco, probably wouldn't keep me warm in the Northeast), and totally dry.

Is It Too Early To Say Bah Humbug?

The Christmas commercials are out in full force. They were trickling out about two weeks before Halloween, but now that Halloween is over, they are being rolled out blatantly. Halloween has become the new Thanksgiving in terms of when Christmas preparations can start.

It all disgusts me. To be fair, probably because I can't really afford to buy any presents these days, which means I don't feel right accepting any presents these days. But still. I know that it would be bad for the economy if everyone "skipped" commercial Christmas presents (and yes, Hanukah presents too). But I'm a big believer in putting the oxygen mask over your own face first, before turning to make sure your seatmate is all set.

So I really think that everyone should skip holiday presents that are not homemade this year. It was only a few years ago that I found out people actually go into debt to buy gifts for people around the holidays. This fact still shocks me. I can't think of anyone who wants a gift even if it means someone would go into debt to give it. Except kids, and the younger ones can be happy with inexpensive stuff and the older ones can learn what's going on in the world.

Yes, if enough people don't buy crap at WalMart then some people will get laid off from there and then they will file for unemployment and there will be an even further drain on our society. But where does it end? We're in this vicious cycle that needs to stop.

Bad to Worse

Things are not going well. I know, things seem to never be going well with me. Sorry - that's just my life these days. If you want to read about something happy, go read a mommy blog - I'm sure someone's kid pooped in the toilet for the first time today.

First off, I broke the lease to leave my last place where I lived with 9am. I did this because 9am decided to break the lease himself (giving me less than 30 days notice) to move out to the suburbs, I couldn't find anyone to take over his place and couldn't afford the over $3000 rent by myself. So now we (collectively and separately) owe the leasing company $4600. Obviously I can't pay that, so I'm all, "Add it to the other shit I owe, what's another collection call when you already get over half a dozen each day?"

Last Thursday I went to the leasing office to talk with someone and get them to break down all the fees so I could see which could be attributed to 9am. My thinking was that I'd have him pay me, and I'd tell the leasing company that I'd take responsibility for the entire balance. I don't mind temporarily fucking over a company, but I prefer not to fuck over individual people. Unfortunately, the leasing company contacted me today to say 9am paid the entire thing to avoid having his credit affected, but asked them not to deposit his check and now they are waiting on me. Fuck. Waiting on me is a terrible idea.

Moving on. Because I am so short on cash, I did not want to think I had more in my checking account than I really do, so ages ago (like over half a year) I took out 9am's security deposit and have kept it in my night table in a bank envelope. I figured that after that meeting with the leasing office, I would deduct the things 9am should pay for and then re-deposit his money, and write him a check for the remainder.

Last week I bought a dozen eggs and a package of english muffins, figuring that would give me six meals (two eggs, one muffin per meal). On Friday I noticed that Wooffers took one of my english muffins. We do not have the type of relationship where we share food. She did not ask. She did not leave a note. I told my friend about it, and she suggested I sent her an email:

I noticed this morning that one of my English muffins was missing from the kitchen. Unless one of your dogs is capable of getting into the refrigerator and calmly taking one english muffin, I am going to have to assume that you decided to overstep your bounds and help yourself to something that was not yours to take. Please replace it ASAP, as I am on a very tight budget, what with having to pay steep moving costs twice in one quarter, and this is costing me one meal.

I was very saddened to learn that you would steal from me and my feelings are very hurt. I now do not feel safe leaving any of my belongings alone to be stolen from your home.

Please let me know that you have received/read/understand this email and feel free to express your feelings about this violation of my personal fridge space in your return email. I will expect a replacement muffin by end of day today, Friday, June 19.

I did not send that, deciding instead that although it'd be funny, I didn't want to deal with whatever reaction Wooffers would have, and besides, I'm moving in less than a week. Except, last night I went to make my very last box of mac & cheese. When I opened my cabinet to take out the box, it was gone. This morning, home alone, for absolutely no real reason, I sinned. I opened one of Wooffer's cabinets. Bet you can guess what I saw. That's right.

Know what else happened this morning? After the mac & cheese discovery I sat down to do the math for 9am's security deposit. When I opened my night table to take out the envelope, it was not there. That's $1399 that's missing. On Friday evening Barrett came back to help me pack again. I called her this morning to double check that we hadn't opened my night table drawer. We hadn't. I haven't had anyone else over. I can not think of any other way to handle this than to call the police.

In other news, I had my interview in the Tenderloin. You know how there are some men who think they're god's gift to the universe? They usually have slicked back hair. That's who my interview was with. Guys like that always hate me, for not being hot. The husband of an acquaintance of mine is this type of person. I once had to drop something off for the acquaintance at her husband's office, and when I approached him, he all but sneered at me. The other reason the interview didn't go well is because I was told they are moving. To the Bayview. I asked the guy interviewing me if the new office would be near the T-line, a train that goes out that way. He was emphatic in telling me no, it is way out there near nothing at all, not near any public transportation. I'm supposed to call Tony to tell him how the interview went, but I'm not sure what to say.

The reality is, it's a very small office, I don't fully understand what they'd need me to do, there's nobody to train me, even the attorneys don't understand the programs they have, oh, and they're totally swamped and way behind. Yeah, talk about knowing you're going to fail. If I had to describe the type of position I'd do worst at, this is it.

Meanwhile, now each time I leave the house, I'm feeling like taking my checkbook, jewelry, birth certificate, iPod, camera and passport with me (that's in addition to the wallet, keys and cell phone). I also want to write my initials on the bottom of all my food and have a list (that also leaves the house with me) of all the food I have.

Okay, I'm sort of kidding about the above paragraph. Sort of. I'm not kidding about calling the police about the money.

It's All Just Too Much

A. The trip to Mexico
B. The move
C. How it ended with 9am
D. The new roommate
E. The new 'hood
F. The future of well, my future

You decide.

This Qualifies As a Pickle

On Tuesday, I went to the leasing office. What I told them was that I'd been laid off (implying it was recent), my roommate had just told me he was moving out, there was no way I could carry the $3,000 rent by myself, and stared at them helplessly with big eyes to see what they would say.

What the nice leasing office lady said was that I could choose to break the lease and it would cost me thousands of dollars. I said, "Sign me up for that." 9am was supposed to sign it too. I brought the form home, and he told me he spoke with someone else, who gave him a different form, and by the way, he needed me to sign HIS form.

9am's form will not be signed by me. If I sign it, I am releasing him from the financial obligation, agreeing he gave me 30 days notice, and letting him out of the lease. That would be ridiculous of me. I very gently explained that to him, and pointed out that he did NOT give me 30 days notice, and that I can't afford to pay all the rent. He nodded and understood.

He's screwed if I don't let him out of the lease. I'm screwed if I stay. 9am *just* figured out that I'm not an idiot who will let herself be put on the line for the full rent. So now he is in his bedroom frantically putting up an ad for a roommate. I have a feeling this is not going to end well with 9am. Because I already know I am for sure breaking this lease, and am for sure moving at the end of the month. I know the leasing company is going to come after me for the thousands of dollars it costs to break a lease, and I'm prepared for it to simply be added to the thousands of dollars I already owe. My credit is already ruined. It doesn't matter anymore to me if it gets ruined further.

Odd Jobs Welcome

Most, if not all, of my current major problems would be solved if I had a job. My friends are awesome (this means you), and offer me all sorts of jobs. I accept everything. Blow your husband? Alrig... just kidding. Last week a friend e-mailed me asking if she could hire me. To stalk her nanny.

Yeah, you read that right. She was worried the nanny was not taking her baby where she was telling my friend she was (Wide Lawns, if you want to tell me how to fix this sentence ...). I told my friend I'd do it right away. But I was scared. What if I went, saw the nanny, and she was seriously abusing their super-cute baby? Like real abuse. Would I be able to just walk away? You know, without scooping the baby up and kicking the nanny? What if I had to tell my friend that while she was at work her smiley baby was being hurt? I didn't want to have to see anything like that, or deal with seeing anything like that.

So one morning last week, with a heavy heart I set out to a neighborhood a few train stops from mine, and armed with my iPod and a book, began stalking. The nanny has never met me, and while the baby has, it was too long ago to have to worry about being recognized and outed.

My friend called me right when her nanny was leaving the house, telling me where she and the baby were headed. I got there and waited. Watched the door. Read my book, paid attention to everyone. Went to the second location where they were scheduled to go after the first one. Called my friend to give her an update, then headed to the third place. To be honest, I felt a little uncomfortable hanging around near a bunch of kids I didn't know, looking in at all the shorties playing. Luckily it didn't take long to see what was going on, and then I was finished.

When I got home, I emailed my friend a "report" on everywhere I went, what time, and what I saw. It's not the ideal situation, but it's not awful either. I was very relieved. And that's the story of how I got hired to stalk someone.

Notice

It's official. 9am told me tonight he's moving out this weekend. Yes, you read that correctly. Despite all my blathering on about "30 days notice this" and "30 days notice that" in the hopes he'd take the hint, 9am refuses to believe he has to conform, and seems to think it will take me no more than three days tops, to find a new roommate. Even though I've told him every time that I've had a roommate give me 30 days notice I've still wound up living alone for at least a month before a new roommate moves in (meaning it takes me over 30 days to find a new roommate).

When I was gainfully employed (I can barely remember those days) it was tough to pay the full rent without a roommate. Now it'll be downright impossible. Earlier today when on the phone with Golden Boy I told him I'd be able to stay in San Francisco through May. Now it looks like I should just start shipping things to Florida tomorrow. I feel ill.

Oh, the Crushing Awkwardness

A couple of weeks ago, I dogsat for Crazy Girl and Golden Boy while they went to NY and Crazy Girl had her final dress fitting and they saw family and stuff.

Pretty much nothing makes me happier than playing with a dog, especially one as happy and friendly as Le Pooch. Seriously. I can't express how happy it makes me that I am their number one go-to person when they need their dog watched. So I love it, and am totally happy to watch her any time. They know this. We always have these funny conversations of "Thanks for watching Le Pooch" and me saying, "Oh you're welcome and thanks for LETTING me watch Le Pooch" and we go back and forth a bit.

I've told my brother repeatedly, that even though theoretically I'm doing them a favor by dogsitting, the reality is they are doing me a favor. It's unconditional love, helps with depression tremendously, it's forced exercise, etc. Plus it's nice to be at their house, somewhere that's a change of scenery yet somewhere I'm very comfortable.

Passover is coming and they invited me to their potluck seder. At first I said I'd go, and make this dish that I make really well. Then I realized how much it would cost, and called my brother and said "Look, the truth is there's no way I can afford to make this to bring, I'm so sorry, I have to bow out. I got carried away b/c Passover is my favorite holiday."

He said of course I should come anyway, because they're nice like that. I thought maybe (wrongly) I could scrounge up the money for a can of macaroons or something, because how awkward if somebody would turn to me to ask what I brought and I had to say "My good cheer for this happy holiday!" or something. Then Golden Boy suggested he and Crazy Girl buy the ingredients for the dish and I make and bring it. I said, that's really nice, but are you doing this just so I can come and save face? He insisted he wasn't, that I'd be doing them a favor because if I didn't make it, they'd have to make it, so it would help them be less busy when they're preparing for 62 people to arrive.

So today we're supposed to get together and go buy all the ingredients for this Passover dish. Then a few days ago, it was suggested they take me to breakfast before going food shopping, as a thank you for watching Le Pooch.

Last night we were trying to iron out details of what time, and where, and things never fully got resolved. Mostly because of me - we were doing this all by e-mail, and I was not home to read e-mail. So we got as far as a time but not as far as a place.

I am low on toothpaste. While I appreciate people trying to do nice things like taking me out places that I can't afford right now (I say this like it's temporary), the reality is, I'm running out of toothpaste. The reality is, I already used up my last kitchen garbage bag.

Sure it's fun to eat pancakes, something I never make at home, but some of that fun is diluted when you realize the cost of those pancakes could pay for a tube of toothpaste that would last you a couple of months. It's hard to be properly appreciative in this situation.

I know everyone expresses their gratitude in different ways. Everyone wants gratitude expressed to them in different ways. Expressing thanks (beyond saying 'thank you') can be really easy or really difficult. My mother used to like to send me flowers on my birthday. I love flowers. Except it's really hard to look at flowers these days, knowing they could pay for a week's worth of food, or the PG&E bill for a month. To me, I truly feel thanked for watching Le Pooch when I get asked to do it again next time. That's all I need, and it's plenty.

That's how Golden Boy and I came to have the most awkward conversation ever this morning, with him saying "We just want to show you our appreciation," and me responding, "Yes, and I appreciate that, it's just hard to happily eat breakfast out when I know that money could pay for half a week's food or whatever." It got to the point where Golden Boy said if their appreciation would best be expressed by purchasing me some toothpaste, then they're happy to do that. So that's what's going to happen.

I'm going to make some oatmeal for breakfast here. Then I'm going food shopping with Golden Boy and Crazy Girl so they can buy ingredients in order for me to bring something to their potluck seder, and there'll be toothpaste buying.

I cried when Golden Boy and I got off the phone. I'll probably cry again when I get home from food shopping. It's so embarrassing. So frustrating. I'm not one of those welfare bitches whose life ambition is to get everyone else to pay for things. I want to work. I like being a contributing member of society. Nobody seems to want my contributions though. Even the place I signed up to volunteer at took all my information and then never called, after saying repeatedly how busy and swamped they are.

I'm such a fuckup that I can't even get hit by a truck and die, because I always forget in order to do that, one has to leave their house.

Hello? HELLO?

I just spent four days taking care of Le Pooch at Crazy Girl and Golden Boy's house, while they were off doing fancy things in fancy places. Phone reception in their house isn't too great - you have to stand in certain spots in order for your cell phone to work. The entire time I was there, my cell phone only rang for collection companies, nobody else.

Yesterday afternoon I got a voicemail from my father, but my phone never rang when he called. Last night Crazy Girl told me she'd heard my aunt say that my parents said I never talk to them.

I called my father back this morning, and while we were on the phone I got call-waiting twice. Both times it was collection companies.

Maybe Next Year

This was written but not published a couple of months ago.

Dine About Town comes to a close at the end of this week, and I haven't gone to any of the restaurants to participate. When the Nutcracker was being performed last month, I didn't go to see it. Grease will be here in March, and I won't be seeing that either. I am upset and embarrassed that I haven't been able to buy people holiday and birthday presents.

I console myself with the phrase, "Maybe next year." I had to say that a lot throughout 2008, and I'm still saying it now. It's the kind of thing someone would say to a child. Can we go look in the Hello Kitty store? Can we get ice cream? Can we go to the playground? It's what you say to console yourself. Only thing is usually you're saying it for extras. Can I pay my PG&E bill? Maybe next month.

Back when I worked with Perky Paula and the Secretly Pregnant Secretary, it was through a temp agency that I hated. The recruiter lied consistently. I liked the firm though, so I continued temping in the hopes they would offer me a job. They didn't. Last week that temp agency sent out an e-mail saying W2s would be available for pickup starting this Monday. They called to confirm my address. I stopped by in jeans and sneakers on Tuesday to pick up that W2. Which they didn't have.

The receptionist couldn't bring herself to tell me, and directed me to the ditzy, lying recruiter I'd hated dealing with months ago. She asked if I was looking for work and I said I was. Pulling my file, she looked at a page and said, "What happened with Lake East? They offered you a job, right?"

Um, yeah. They offered me a terrible job that I would not have been able to do. It was at a desk that had been empty for several months (backlog of work), in a type of law I was not familiar with (complex tort), at a firm that does not do formal training, has no IT or WP departments on site (both crucial for me to succeed), that is headquartered in LA or on the East Coast (I forgot), where basically, they would toss me at the desk and expect me to be up and running. During the interview I remember thinking with certainty, "They would fire me within a month."

I explained this to the recruiter. She pushed me to take the job. At the time I was still temping at the place with Perky Paula, and felt comfortable saying no. Months later she asked again if I was interested. Just the fact alone that they hadn't been able to fill that desk reaffirmed my thought that it was not a good fit.

But two days ago what happened? That's right. The temp she has there now is out with a broken leg, and does she want me to see if she can get me in to temp for the temp? I have tort experience, right? Um, no.

At this point I'm not even thinking, "maybe next year." No, at this point I'm just trying to stay in San Francisco without being homeless for as long as possible. I am falling down a well and holding onto the edge by my fingertips. Next year isn't going to come for me.

As If I Don't Know

In my dream I had just finished dinner with family. Then I got told I owed $75 for it. Nobody had told me this before - of course I'd never have gone had I known it would cost that much. When I tried to leave, in order to get home and see what I could to do scrounge up the money I apparently (accidentally) owed, the door was locked and I couldn't get it.

Where Are You?

I could add to this, or I could just let it all spill out here. Since I haven't blogged in a while, we'll go with here. Here's where I am.

For the first time this year, on Thursday and Friday I worked. That'll get it's own blog post, because it was just that juicy. I'll just say now that I hate the way the firm is run, but if they had any job openings I'd apply faster than you can say "lawsuit" because there are no coins in my can to shake as people walk by.

My lease ends in July. Looking online, I saw that my apartment complex is advertising apartments just like mine for $500 less than I pay. On Friday evening, 9am told me commuting to San Mateo isn't working out for him, and he's moving out by March 1st. Each month I barely scrape together my rent of $1700 (oh yeah, that's right). So there's no way I can afford to pay both my rent AND his rent come March 1st.

You want to tell me to break my lease, and just move out now, I know. But I can't afford to move. To hire movers. And despite having more friends here than I did in Florida and New York, I don't have friends who would help me move. Just people who are friendly enough to say, "Wow, yeah moving sucks, good luck!" I can't afford a security deposit - the one I gave here was only for $99 because they were running a special. Plus, what landlord would rent to someone who has no income?

What about unemployment? Well, that runs out in about 11 weeks. Unless Obama's stimulus thing is going to stimulate unemployment benefits within the next two and a half months.

So as of March 1, I can't afford to live here. But I can't afford to move. I have nowhere to go. Oh wait. Except. Except that Friday night (I know, it's quite the exciting life) while on the phone with my parents, they said I am welcome to move in with them. In Florida. Land of Humidity.

You may see how desperate things are that I am considering this (no offense, Mom & Dad). I had a lot of questions. How would things work? How much rent would I have to pay you? Would you be treating me like your child or like a roommate who you just happen to know very well? How long do you intend for this to be? My parents had no answers. My father suggested I write out all my questions and e-mail them so he and my mother can discuss and present a united front.

I love living in San Francisco. As much as I complain about it, I love it. I've made better friends here than I've ever had in my life. I love that I went from not really "getting" why gay people were gay at all, to getting all teary when talking about why gay rights are so important. I love the Farmer's Market, even though I haven't gone in over a year. I love that (extremely) slowly, the bus lines are coming together for me. I love that I'm almost ready to buy clothing in a used clothing store. I love living in a city where you can meet up with a friend, go hiking, and come out of the woods to find yourself overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

And I don't care - I'd give it all up in a heartbeat. Really, I'd walk away from it and go South. I can always move back here later. I could deal with frizzy hair again, rain every afternoon, being surrounded by capri pants, and living in Jeb Bush Land.

Could I deal with being stranded in a house with my mother in the suburbs all day, every day? Could I deal with being asked where I'm going by my mother every time I get up from a chair? Could I deal with having to be present for my parent's fighting?

Yes. I do. Because I'd have to. What I'm not sure I could deal with is living there and having just as hard a time trying to get a job there as I'm having here. That is my biggest hesitation in saying I'm moving back to Florida. Sure, I wouldn't be paying $1700 in rent. I'll have stopped going as far into debt as fast as I am now.

I am severely depressed right now. My room is a wreck. Right now, on my bed there are two messenger bags, a towel, a sweater, a makeup case, a copy of a timesheet, a scarf, and me. There's a huge mess of papers and magazines on the floor that I can't seem to sort through. There's a stack of books to be donated to the library on the floor. I am having trouble eating. Not just because I have become permanently nauseous as of a few months ago. But I keep getting paralyzed by indecision and can't plan which meals to eat when in order to keep food from going bad. The battery on my watch died. I'm wearing it anyway, because I feel naked without a watch.

I flit around my apartment unable to tackle any one issue, overwhelmed by how many there are. I need someone to swoop in and fix it all, but there is noone. I have nobody. Each day last week I meant to go to the library. I never went. Why? Couldn't say.

Meanwhile everyone around me keeps moving forward. Planning and going on vacations. Buying new gadgets, new clothes, new whatevers. "What do you mean, you've never been to Tahoe?" they ask me. "Well where do you go for vacation?" I go to New York for open heart surgery, or Florida for a 90th birthday party for a man who will die three months later.

So I sit, looking out my window at the rain, waiting for somebody to tell me what to do, since apparently I can't make any good decisions, as all of mine have gotten me to this point.