Something Interesting Happened On My Lunch Hour Today

I ran into Cat Lady on the street! You remember her, don't you? Well, we met at the corner and smiled at each other. She'd dyed her hair a new color, and I said, "Wow, you dyed your hair!" and thank goodness that's all that came out of my mouth because my main thought was, "It looks SO MUCH better than that yellow pee color you used to dye it!"

Cat Lady's response? "I did it to match my cats." Ah. I see nothing much has changed in her life.

She tells me the Gay HR Guy isn't there anymore. I don't tell her that I'm Facebook friends with him and know that. Cat Lady says they moved her desk to the other side of the floor, and now she sits right in front of the new HR guy's office, and she hates it, and hates him. That I have no idea how terrible that is. I remind her about how close I used to sit to the Gay HR Guy (the HR guy at the firm I'm temping at now is also gay - is there something about HR that attracts gay guys?). "Didn't you hate it?" Cat Lady asks me.

I shrug as we stand outside Walgreens. It never bothered me, to be honest.

And that's the end of that. Cat Lady was going into Walgreens and I was continuing on down the block, so we parted ways.

The Non-Post

I am too tired to do a real post. So all you'll get is this fake one. See? It's not even really here. Figment of your imagination.

However, I know that sucks. I know some people wake up very early in their houses when everyone else is asleep and just like in the commercials, they get a cup of coffee and sit down to read. I'm so sorry I'm disappointing you. This does not mean that I'm going to do a real post for you. Because I'm not. But I will give you this: I've made notes for the two ideas I had rolling around in my head this morning. And one of those posts is roommate-related, though not in the way you're thinking.

I'll try to bang something out this weekend, and get one of the two going on Monday.

So for now I leave you with these random tidbits:

1. I saw Cat Lady today. She was late for work. She looks exactly the same.
2. One of the partners I work for had me type up three notepads worth of notes he made during three different depositions. This sounds easy, but really, it's tedious as all get out and lawyers write almost as badly as doctors. The partner e-mailed me a thank you for the good job I did, and cc'd the HR chick.
3. I ran into said HR chick on the bus going home today, and it was not at all awkward.
4. Tomorrow is jeans day!
5. This whole idea of having blog-friends is really weird and really nice, all at the same time.
6. I was e-mailing with someone a couple of weeks ago and banged out a mildly funny scenario to her. It was some damn fine writing, if I do say so myself. But I feel like it's cheating to take that and make it into a blog post. Tempting as hell.
7. Thanks, and... sorry Jimmy, we're out of time.

And Yet

Still so many things to say, and yet, I am having trouble figuring out what goes first, what's worth writing out, what's too private to share, etc.

So you will get highlights today, instead of details. Bottom lines, instead of full stories. Pretty much all about work.

I am unemployed. Thursday was my last day of work. I brought home a big box with barely any stolen office supplies. If *anyone* says anything to me along the lines of, "What are you going to do?" or "Oh my god, you have no income - you must be freaking out!" I am going to go apeshit on their asses, and then demand they give me $592, which is the cost of COBRA for one month. Why people think that freaking someone out is a good idea, is beyond me.

What am I going to do? File for unemployment and try to find a job. Or a rich husband. What else would I try to do? Cry, sell all my worldly posessions and promply go live on the street? Of course not. I'm going to try to stop being unemployed. Duh.

You think I don't realize I have no income? You think just because I appear calm to you that means I'm not freaking out inside? Ever since people at work found out about the East Bay office, they kept asking if I was going. Random people whose names I barely knew would ask. Did they honestly think I'd break down and cry and freak out in front of them? No! I was At. Work. What is the number one goal at work? Right! To not cry. So why would I tell them any fears I might have about supporting myself or getting a new job?

These were the people who were just at my desk for gossip. They didn't care about me - they cared about knowing the dirt. I'm not stupid. Don't treat me like an idiot.

It was a big deal to me to remain professional through this mess. I hate when after somebody has left a company, everyone blames every problem that comes up on whoever's gone. So even though Gay HR Guy told me at noon that I could leave whenever I wanted on Thursday, I stayed until 5:52 p.m., because I was trying to leave everything organized for Nice Partner and Tuna, and whoever their new Me would be. Okay and I had to delete all my personal e-mails, every website I've visited, and all my personal Contacts from Outlook.

To be honest, I also had stuff to file from 2006. Yeah that's right - I'm the secretary who sucks at filing. I fucking hate filing. File Clerk stood at my pony wall and helped me sort out everything. When I apologized to the Head of Filing, he told me it wasn't bad at all - it didn't come close to comparing with the woman who left eight cartons full of papers to be filed. So although I felt badly, after hearing that I knew I wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

File Clerk made an "Ew!" face when I told her I wanted to hug some people goodbye. These are people I spent almost two years with. Some of them I really liked a lot. But after File Clerk's reaction, I made it my personal goal to hug as many people as possible on Thursday. Each time I got someone, I'd tell File Clerk. Making people uncomfortable was out of the question. I wanted to make them want to hug me. It was so much easier than I thought it'd be.

The icier they were, the more determined I was to hug them. More than 80 % of the people made the move to hug me first. Only one partner shook my hand - everyone else gave me hugs. Tuna hugged me for a long time, which surprised me, only because he was both in a bad mood and in a hurry when he was rushing out Thursday afternoon. His office was already packed up and it flustered him to be working without all his Things and kid's pictures surrounding him. Plus, he's going to have a a very long commute that he's not looking forward to.

Cowboy hugged me goodbye, and said, "God bless it!" one last time for me. File Clerk cried. Cat Lady was the only person I didn't aim to hug - she smells. She told me I could use her as a reference. Umm... she told LEL the same thing. Thanks, but no thanks. I don't trust her. Plus, why would I use her as a reference when I have partners who said I could use them? Their references will carry a lot more weight than one from a secretary.

Kennedy (the partner who is so smooth and insincere I think he should be in politics) hauled me into an empty office to thank me, on behalf of the firm, for my dedication and hard work and say if there's anything he can ever do for me, to please not hesitate to ask. Thanks, Ken. How 'bout $592?

Last Sunday I went to the office to help Nice Partner prepare for trial, and his face totally fell when he realized that by the time he got back from this week's trial (today), I'd be gone. He asked for a hug, and made me promise to let him know where I wind up working. Nice Partner wants to take me to lunch after The Trial That Never Ends actually ends.

Oh yeah, last week I was also PMSing, which may explain why it was such a huge effort to keep myself from bitch-slapping people who annoyed me. Then the whole not-working-anymore thing may explain my three-day depression where I barely got out of bed until Sunday evening.
Now I'm rushing around interviewing this week. I told Trixie yesterday that each day I'm not working, I think I have to accomplish something either fun or productive. Without a job forcing me to keep a schedule, I feel very unanchored, like at any moment I could look around and realize I've been in bed for 42 days straight.

Yesterday in an interview, I got asked why I became a legal secretary, and what I like about it. Really, it was a miracle I didn't laugh. I became a legal secretary because it was something I could do that would earn me enough money to live. I like that when I'm working as a legal secretary it means I'm not working some bullshit retail job 60 hours a week. Dumb question. No kid grows up striving to become an administrative drone.

They asked if I had any questions. Yes - can I wear jeans on Fridays? What is the average age of the secretarial pool? How many hot attorneys will I be working with? Do you participate in Bring Your Dog To Work Day, and if so, will you supply the dog?

Enough

The whole firm knows about the new office that's opening soon. Everyone has questions.

Who's going?Can I go?
Are you going?
What are you going to doooooo?
Are you going to take the boxes of files in the empty office where Labor & Employment used to be?
What will you do about office supplies?
Can you work remotely?
Do you have a car?
Are you going to commute?
Do they need a secretary? Remember that copy room girl who left when she had her baby? She'd kill to work out there.
Are they taking a word processor?
Will you come into the city for the breakfasts and other parties?When you go, can I have Tuna's office/your chair?

I am not exaggerating when I say that two to three times each day people are coming up to me to talk and ask me about it. Really, I'm sure you can understand why I don't want to talk about this. It's bad enough I have to talk to my roommate and my family about it (no offense guys). Thank you, but I don't need suggestions, I don't need links to jobs, I don't need reminders to look for a new job (I just accidentally typed 'jew job' - perhaps on a deep level I've been uncomfortable working in such a Christian-centric place all this time?) and I don't want to be reminded forty times a day that the clock is ticking.

Nobody EVER needs to point out anything negative about me or my life to me. Please trust me when I assure you I've thought of it. Whatever it is, I've thought of it and worried about it already. Way ahead of you. Now you don't have to wonder what I've been doing awake since 2:30 a.m. - you know. I've been staring into my pillow thinking about how exactly being homeless will work for me now that I don't own a car anymore. Really, if you've thought something negative of me, I've already taken that thought to the tenth power at a minimum.

Why Cat Lady came up to me THREE TIMES yesterday to talk about The Move is beyond me. Especially since the very first time I looked her straight in the eye and said, "I really don't know, and can't talk about it anymore." Cat Lady coming to talk to you is nothing you want to experience. She's the one who had the gastric-bypass surgery. When a person has that, they're supposed to change their dietary habits. Significantly. Cat Lady didn't. Which is why she has all sorts of OTC drugs spread along her desk to treat various digestive issues. I'm not sure if that's why her breath is awful, but it is. Of course she's prone to standing too close to people when she talks with them.

Have I ever really discussed Cat Lady here? Maybe I haven't. Maybe since I won't be dealing with her soon, I should. Cat Lady is an older woman who rents a house and has a male roommate, and some cats, one of whom is named Romeo (LEL came up with the name). Cat Lady thinks everything about herself is fascinating, and doesn't notice when people's eyes glaze over as she blabs on and on about her cat's antics. Cat Lady is President of some Secretary Association or some shit like that.

Cat Lady says very harsh things about people. She told me that the receptionist is very jealous of her because she had a decades-long relationship with a man years ago. That another secretary wears black suits all the time because she thinks it makes her look thin, but it doesn't.

She likes to be viewed as an authority on ... well, anything. Cat Lady presents her opinions as facts. She thinks any joke she makes is incredibly witty, and anything she says is deep. Cat Lady's favorite game is to walk by my ponywall and push any papers up there over the edge, so they fall onto my desk. Her second favorite game is to walk by and tell me, "Clean up that mess!" She thinks she's hilarious. I think a swift smack to the back of her head with a frying pan would make me feel very good.
I would love to sit down (with many feet between us so I didn't pass out from her halitosis) and psychoanalyze Cat Lady. People whose self-confidence crosses the line to arrogance always fascinate me. How do they get that way? Do they realize they're like that? Are they happy being that way? Do they look down on anyone around them who isn't that way? Would they aim to raise their children to be that way?

But that won't happen. Instead, I'm putting out the word here, because this is the only place I feel I can do it. Don't call me, I'll call you. You know I have a big mouth. You know I won't be able to resist blabbing to the world once I have a new job. I know your asking is your way of showing you care. And I truly appreciate your caring, more than I can express. But I am a green and yogurty person, who feels your asking as pressure on me. And as I said above, I put tons of that on myself already.

"I Gotta Get It Out, I Gotta Get It Out*"

Okay so I just need to purge this before I implode.

LEL's latest thing is that when she and I are walking down the hallway towards each other in opposite directions, when we come upon each other she flattens herself against the wall, as if I smell (I don't) or am so fat that I take up the entire space (I'm not). I'm feeling like the next time we get to that point, I am thinking of dramatically throwing MYself against the wall wildly, just making fun of her. Yeah, maturity is not really winning in this situation.

Her other thing is that she will never ever be polite to me. To me, being polite to her is simply the professional thing to do, and that's why I am always polite to her, no matter how rude she is to me. Except, not exactly. It is unquestionably rude to point out somebody else's lack of manners. And that's exactly what I've been doing.

LEL not only will go so far as to print to the printer I use (because Cat Lady scared her away from using the one she uses), she will also throw out documents I print if she gets to them first. I would never do that. I have actually taken something off the printer, seen it's clearly hers, and said to her "I think this is yours" while holding it out to her. And then, as she walks away after taking it, I say "You're welcome." Sometimes mumbled, sometimes brightly with a shit-eating grin. Today I held a door for her and after she'd walked through, I tossed a "You're welcome" over my shoulder as I turned the corner.

I've been doing this for about two weeks now, because .... well, because I guess I'm slightly snapping. I can only take so much, and I've taken A LOT. We haven't even discussed LEL's habit of bypassing me to speak with my attorneys, or the time she mistakenly entered her Baby Attorney's time on Name Partner's time code and then denied it because I was the one who'd discovered her mistake. We haven't talked about the fact that if LEL comes into the copy room while I'm there, I always move over to make room for her, but she never extends the same courtesy for me. Or that if Cowboy needs something from her when she's not around to do it, I always offer to help him, and then fill her in on what's gone on when she returns, so she's not left in the dark, and she never thanks me for that.

This afternoon after I did the you're welcome thing, as we both got back to our desks, LEL said something like "Don't talk to me about manners" or "You can't talk to me about manners." My gut reaction was to think "Of course I can - I can do whatever I want." I made a face reflecting that somehow, and LEL then said, "In that case, YOU'RE WELCOME for the menorah I gave you, that I spent $25 on."

Oh no she di'in't. As soon as she said that, I replied with, "I thanked you for that, in same moment I picked it up." Which is true, I did. I then followed up with an e-mailed thank you note to her that morning also.

I never told LEL what I did with her menorah that she gave me. I gave it away. I listed it on Craigslist for free and gave it to somebody, because I knew I'd never use it. If I were going to use any sort of menorah, it'd be an electric one.

Anyway. I am not proud of myself for acting this way, pointing out LEL's lack of manners all the time. I know better. You might say, just don't do things for her that would require a normal person to thank you, so you're not compelled to say you're welcome. However, that goes against me - if I know the right thing to do for the good of my department, my law firm, I feel like I have to do that. Fucking work ethic, screwing up everything. Yeah, I should just be the bigger person.

UPDATE: This morning I just spoke with Cat Lady about it all, and she encouraged me to keep doing this you're welcome shit, even after I said "Everybody knows it's bad manners to correct someone else's bad manners" which tells you something about Cat Lady. She also encouraged me to tell Cowboy and Nice Partner, which I don't want to do. It's pathetic enough that two grown women can't work out an issue - I can't also drag in our bosses. Cat Lady insists LEL will be gone in two months.

I just had horrible chest pains for about ten minutes, and I wonder if that's my punishment for being immature about this and not just completely ignoring LEL's idiocy, like I probably should be doing.

*First person to tell me what movie that line is from gets a prize.

Touched

There was an earthquake last night. I wasn't sure that was what I was feeling though, and had to ask someone. It felt like something hit the side of my apartment building really hard. Usually I feel earthquakes from the bottom up, or on the all the sides. This felt like something slammed into the building - something like a plane, because I'm from New York and that's where my mind goes first.

While getting ready for work this morning my cell phone started ringing. Even though I was sure it would be a wrong number, I went to get my phone anyway, and saw my brother's work phone number. He was calling because he'd heard about the earthquake. To check on me. He's been working 18-hour days lately, and he called me when he heard about the earthquake. Don't ever tell yourself "nobody really cares" when you're thinking of doing something nice, and starting to decide not to. I'm touched every single time I find out someone thought of me.

Today at work the Grandmas were discussing the earthquake. LEL was in Berkeley when it happened. I know, because she said so three times in the space of 18 seconds. Cat Lady asked if she cried like a baby. Loudly. Of course LEL didn't hear her the first two times, and Cat Lady got to repeat herself. "You cried like a baby, didn't you? You scream when I trip. When the earthquake happened, I thought of you right away. I know you screamed like a monkey." LEL claims she was terrified. She did not seem touched to know Cat Lady thought of her.

Working on Commuting

I just need to say that the new grandma who wore red leather pants two weeks ago showed up today wearing a leather skirt. Thank you.

So, my new commute is not working out for me.

In the mornings, the bus doesn't come until five minutes before 9 a.m., getting me to work 10-15 minutes late every day. In the evenings, I have to stand outside in the cold for 20-35 minutes waiting for the bus to come take me home. This will not do.

This morning I tried a different route, that involves taking two buses. I got to work at 9:06 a.m. Better, but still not good enough. However, I overshot my stop getting off the first bus, so I'm going to try again tomorrow. This new route, although it involves more walking, might just be what I need.

I found a different route for getting home that also involves taking two buses. Not much waiting is involved at all, but each day something goes wrong while I'm ON the bus that goes down Market Street. There's a car accident and we get stuck on the bus for a long time. A crazy man gets on the bus and blocks the aisle with his huge suitcase and engages in a stand-off with the bus driver who says he won't move the bus until Crazy Man moves his suitcase. Crazy Man inspires half the passengers of the bus to prepare to flee as he mumbles to himself and reaches around in his suitcase, worrying everyone he's about to pull out a gun, only to open his hand and reveal a tape measure in an effort to prove his point. This bus lets me off further away from home than the evening bus I used to take, leaving me to walk three blocks to get home.

I think the evening commute is half a dozen of one, six of another. I can either lose 25 minutes standing outside, or while sitting on the bus for whatever reason followed by walking the last few blocks home.

I started this post with a grandma tidbit, and I'll end it with another grandma tidbit. Cat Lady told me yesterday that LEL is not only not being invited to move when my department moves to a different office, but that she was told to start looking for a new job. I'm not sure I can believe Cat Lady. Tuna and I had a chat this morning about the move, and I told him that I hope to still have a job. He promised to speak with Cowboy and see what he can do for me.

Exciting Update: Today I got to work late taking the two-bus route. However, I will claim the Milli Vanilli card, and blame it on the rain that was fallin' fallin'. Will try again tomorrow.

My Shit Needs a Hill

When I was growing up, my dad would come home from work and methodically go from family member to family member and scream at them. Later, my brother explained how it must be for my dad. To go to work and deal with a bunch of productive adults all day. To be their manager, and tell them to do something, and not only do they do it, but they try to do anything else they can think of that he might want done. Then to come home and deal with kids who shove the clothes on their floor into their closets after saying "I will, in the next commercial" four times. Must be frustrating as all hell.

And yet. My father really would come home, and go look at his mail in the kitchen while my mother was cooking dinner. And he'd scream at her for using the wrong pot, or using a fork to stir something in a pan, or whatever. Then scream at my brother for leaving his books near the stairs (never in front of the stairs, because we didn't do that, but just next to them). Then he'd move on to me, and scream at me for hiding from the world in bed, or scream at me for watching MTV. "Get a life!" he'd yell, while I watched Julie and Eric flirt on The Real World. Shit rolled downhill, and I was the bottom of that hill.

I am stressed out. During the last month people have been lying to me left and right. People are telling me things that don't add up. Now I may not have graduated from college, and may barely be able to read, but I'm no moron. I happen to be a fantastic liar. I don't say that to brag, I say that because as a fantastic liar, I'm very good at knowing when people are lying to me.

So why last weekend, when I was in a restaurant and told the waiter I'd like bacon "very well done, like burnt" did he try to tell me after I'd sent it back twice and he brought it a third time, that it was restaurant policy not to burn bacon? Don't lie to me. I asked why, if that was restaurant policy, he didn't say that when I ordered it burnt? Yeah, that's what I thought.

During the first week of this month, I ordered a year's worth of contact lenses, and some oranges to be sent to two different friends. None of these things arrived. The lens company left me a voice mail on Monday, saying they spoke with Jack at my leasing office who has a note on my package that he gave it to me. Umm... if he has a note on my package, then clearly I don't have it, do I? I called the leasing office today to sort this out. Meanwhile my left eye is so irritated I'm resisting the urge to claw it out of my eye socket.

The orange people claimed they sent my oranges when I called the first time. Breezily, without looking anything up. Ping! My friends are nice - they would have thanked me if they got them and I knew this. I didn't believe the orange company, so I asked what date they were delivered. Of course they couldn't provide me with a date, and when I pressed further, they'd lost my order completely. I offered to forward the e-mailed confirmation they'd sent me back to them. They assured me they'd call me tomorrow. That was last week. I've been calling them every day now, and I think they're avoiding me at this point. I'm pissed.

All this, while I'm freezing in my apartment that STILL smells like paint (as I wait impatiently for the smell to go away so I can invite Karen_S over, in the hopes she'll bring her baby, who is the happiest baby I've ever seen in my life). All this, while I'm dealing with LEL.

Oh! Let's talk about LEL for a moment if you don't mind. LEL has enthusiastically hated me for over a year now. She rolls her eyes any time I talk to her. She glares at me. She speaks to me as if I'm stupid. Just so it's clear, I don't talk to LEL about anything unrelated to business. An attorney tells me he's looking to speak with the Cowboy today and asks when he'll be in. I tell LEL, "Igor wanted to talk with Cowboy today; he was looking for him earlier." LEL's response is to say in a "you're such a fucking idiot that you make me sick" tone of voice "Cowboy won't be in today. *I'll* speak with Igor." As if I was a schmuck for not knowing Cowboy's schedule, as if I fucked up something with Igor and she's going to go sort out the mess I made.

Her attitude makes me want to smack her. Her spraying that terrible-smelling perfume makes me want to dunk her head in a toilet and flush repeatedly. I am always very professional with LEL. But I am losing it. Seriously, I am totally losing my temper. Cat Lady can see my face tighten, and she keeps encouraging me to tell on LEL to HR. She likes drama; she is trying to manipulate me into giving her some. I am not that stupid. I'm not going to HR to whine "LEL makes faces at me when I talk to her!" Because I'm not five years old anymore. You know, when it was acceptable to whine to your parents during long car trips that "Golden Boy's almost touching me!" (except it was always me, bothering him).

LEL is pissing off everyone around her. The other day, Cowboy threatened to behead her if she didn't stop shaking her head (clearly I missed something). He threatens things like that in a way that sounds joking but you know you should listen to what he's saying underneath the joke. A copy guy overheard the threat and said to LEL "I bet you've never been threatened with a be-heading before." Her response? "No, but I refuse to take it seriously since it came from an idiot." Dude, you just called your boss an idiot while at work, in front of someone you're consistently mean to. NOT SMART. No, I'm not going to tell on her for that. But really. Get some common sense, woman!

So I'm furious about many things. I come home to my empty, sub-zero apartment. Where there is nobody for me to yell at. No hill for my shit to roll down. There is nobody there, in my smelly kitchen, cooking dinner for me to eat. My anger just rolls around inside of me, having nowhere to go. So of course it turns into depression. Which explains why my chin was trembling and tears were forming when I talked to Nice Partner this morning about my cold apartment. Because I just don't have it in me anymore to fight all these things alone. I am so overwhelmed, and everyone is fighting me, instead of helping. And I need help. I need people to do their fucking jobs. I need my new contact lenses. I need my kitchen's paint smell to go away so I'll start cooking and eat something healthier than a bowl of cereal for dinner.

P.S. I seem to be having a terrible problem where I can't stop ending sentences with prepositions. At the end of each sentence I say to myself "dinner the mountain? no, okay keep going" or "down the mountain? shit, how can I reword that sentence? fuck it keep going" I keep doing this all over the place - why can't I stop?

P.P.S. Never mind about the above - I just went into Name Partner's office to get him to sign a letter and he had to figure out if "was" or "were" was appropriate for a sentence. We made a joke about how seventh grade English is so hard, and I feel better now. If a name partner can have grammar problems, then so can I. (I the mountain? no.) Though I do wish I had a secretary to help me figure these things out. Out, the mountain? No, it's good, carry on. Wait! In the mountain would be bad. Shit. Though I do wish I had a secretary to help me with these things. Things the mountain? No. All clear! Jesus fucking christ.

Grandma Theory

Cat Lady yelled at LEL last week. They used to use the same printer, and LEL used to move and otherwise fuck up Cat Lady's documents. So Cat Lady yelled at her to stop touching her shit.

Fuck you, Cat Lady, because now LEL is using the same printer *I* use! I told Cat Lady not to expect a present from me on her birthday, after this crap. Anyway. That has nothing to do with the real point of this post. I just felt the need to bitch.

The real point is that Cowboy is slowly being driven crazy by LEL. At one point today when he turned away from her, he slowly closed his eyes and then opened them, and I wondered if he was imagining banging his head against a wall repeatedly. My firm is opening another office outside of the city. When? I don't know. But I'm staying here if I have the choice (and I believe I do). LEL however, lives pretty close to where the new office will be, so I've been assuming that when Cowboy goes there, she'll go with him.

I casually mentioned this to Cat Lady today, and she told me that's not the case at all. She claims LEL hasn't been invited. I didn't realize there were any formal invitations being sent out. Cat Lady has this interesting theory about the new office though - they'll tell LEL they need something different than what she does currently, for the new office. Then they'll say they have no open positions in our SF office, paving the way to lay her off and finally be rid of LEL once and for all. Interesting.