Why Couldn't I Have a Boyfriend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unwelcome Reception for the Receptionist

This is my second week of temping as a receptionist. The weird thing is though, their phone doesn't really ring that much that they need a full-time receptionist. An entire hour has sometimes passed without the phone ringing at all. So I keep encouraging the administrative assistant to give me projects. Time passes faster when you're busy.

It's a small law firm - only five lawyers, and about half a dozen or so paralegals. They're all very close, which is sweet. They go to the movies together, help each other move, go fetch coffee at the Starbucks around the corner together.

However, what is not sweet is the way they treat me. The paralegals have big offices, and sit two to an office. They have sliding glass doors - like balcony doors. There is a portable phone which I am supposed to take with me when leaving the front desk to do other tasks, like pulling files for the paralegals to work on, and re-filing files they've already worked on.

A lot of these files are REALLY heavy. Often one "file" is actually three fully packed redwelds that are in a bankers box. Now, I know that the fact that the temp agency didn't tell me there'd be tons of heavy lifting is my problem, and that I am always welcome to call the temp agency and tell them I can't do the job anymore because I am feeling things in my back actually pull themselves out of place and I now have at least two pinched nerves that make me scream in pain when I accidentally move in my sleep.

I get all that. But the reality is that I need work. I have no ego issues surrounding taking a job I am over-qualified to do. Technically, I'm under-qualified for this particular job since I can't deal with the fucking files without damaging my body, but I mean in general.

Anyway, I am so paranoid that I am having problems at this temp job because deep down a part of me doesn't want to "just" be a receptionist, that I refuse to bitch about how my back has never been the same since I got sick in 1995 and re-learned to walk.

So the paralegals. They never, ever help with the files. The files that I'm bringing to them. Bringing to them because they need them. To do their jobs. I can be standing next to their desk holding five files in one arm while trying to shove other files on their bookcase over to make room for the new ones, and they just fucking sit there, staring at their computers or talking with each other, completely ignoring me.

They also often have packets of paperwork that need to be copied prior to being mailed out. Today one paralegal came over at 1pm as I was putting my jacket on to go to lunch and said she needed a copy job back by 2pm. It was from a file I gave her yesterday afternoon. Really? When I explained that I was on my way out but could do it immediately upon returning, she was annoyed. Normally people give you about three hours to a half a day to complete copy jobs at this firm. How do they know I'm not in the middle of a project for someone else? How do they know there aren't four copy jobs in front of theirs?

They are annoyed when I open their balcony doors to deliver files. Or to ask if they have files because another paralegal told me to check with them. One attorney literally glares at me Every. Single. Time. I go to her about anything, even when I let her know her husband's on the phone. It got to the point this afternoon that I didn't have it in me to face her wrath and just left files outside her door in a pile with a note on them. Maybe tomorrow morning I'll get in before she does and I can toss them in her office.

This office does immigration law, and I get a lot of phone calls from people for whom English is not a first language. When I lived and worked in Florida this happened too. Except then their primary language was Spanish. Here it's Mandarin or Cantonese. All the Indian people speak English and have very thick accents.

Today one of the projects I was working on involved going through years of e-mails between clients and the lawyers at the firm. It was so interesting. All the clients, literally all of them, were so polite in their written communication. Polite, and very well-mannered, and appreciative of all the work being done to help them get whatever visas they needed or wanted. When I went to Mexico I was very determined to not be The Obnoxious American, and I thought I succeeded. Um yeah. After what I read today, I am guessing I came across more like a ... person who's nice for an American. These clients have shown me a new level, and I am in awe. I have a new goal for if I ever leave the country again. (My mother would say, 'Couldn't you be nice while you're IN the country?' To which I say fuck no!)

Oh! Here's something funny: there is an office manager. Once again, I can't tell if she's pregnant or just fat. I'm pretty sure she's wearing maternity shirts. But I'm just not positive. Today she told me she was running out to the doctor, and I immediately tried to think of something I could say to inspire her to share more information, but came up with nothing in the half-second I had. Turned out it was the dentist. Damn.

Help me focus on the positive about this job. It is work! It won't turn into a permanent job, but for these couple of weeks, it is solid work that pays me more than unemployment does. Excuse me please - I have to go repeat that six times in front of the mirror.

It's Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas (At the End of Chanukah)

Several months ago, I was asked to go temp at a law firm I'd been to previously. But they didn't have me working with the same two partners I'd worked with in the past. Instead, they had me working with another legal secretary who was covering half a dozen attorneys (this is a lot). It didn't go well. She had me and two other people helping her with a project - each of us worked on a different aspect of it, and she was the only one who had the full picture of what was going on.

The simple explanation is that some guy was supposed to create a list of contacts, then I was supposed to print out a slew of shit, and send it to each person on the list. This other secretary found that someone who was supposed to get a packet, didn't. She told the office manager, and they wound up essentially firing me. To say I was crushed doesn't even cover it. I was sure the temp agency that sent me there would never send me anywhere else again.

Luckily I was wrong. To me it seemed like a huge, huge deal. But Monday morning I got a frantic call from the same agency saying they'd been trying to reach me since Friday and wanted me to go to an immigration law firm. The guy said he had someone else there, but if I was available, he'd pull that person and send me because he felt I'd be a better fit.

I wish he'd been honest and just flat-out told me it's doing reception work. It's pretty easy to figure out within two seconds of being shown to your (reception) desk, but I'd just appreciate the honesty. It sure explains why it pays $10 an hour less than what I normally get. Ego is not an issue with me - if I were offered a permanent reception position I'd take it in a heartbeat. Sure, I can't make coffee and hate cleaning my own dishes let alone cleaning other people's dishes, but whatever - a job would be divine.

But whatever. The worst thing you can do as a receptionist is to drop phone calls, and make mistakes in transferring people to the wrong attorneys. It's harder than you'd think when five or more lines are ringing at once, someone's standing at your desk talking to you, and two people are having a loud conversation nearby making it hard to hear the person on the phone. So I'm pleased that two days in I haven't dropped any calls, though I do seem to spend a lot of time saying, "I'm sorry, would you mind repeating your name? And you were calling to speak with Carrie? Carly? Oh, you're not sure?"

All the people there are super friendly, which is nice. They thank me every day, as if I'm showing up to help out of the goodness of my heart rather than because they're paying me.

This afternoon they put up a fake Christmas tree right in front of my desk. It was an hour-long procedure, complete with someone tipping over a coffee table when they were standing on it to hang something. One of the attorneys even asked someone to get fake pine spray. Somebody already wears patchouli so I'll be loading up on Advil because holy shit.

Oh, Well That's Okay

Today I'm temping at that place that pays less than unemployment. When I got the call yesterday asking if I would mind coming despite the pay, I said yes for a few reasons:

1. I am having trouble being a person lately. You know, getting dressed, leaving the house. So this was a good push.
2. The firm specifically requested me.
3. The recruiter who called me about this job has been the only one to call me about ANY work over the last four or so months, which means I'd like to keep him happy.
4. Never know what it could lead to. Maybe someone will retire or move away. Maybe the attorney here will have a lawyer-friend who is hiring.

So here I sit, in an empty penthouse in Union Square. So far the woman who works here (who I met last time I temped) called, and another woman called twice for the lawyer. I told her he was not in. She asked when he was expected. I paused, and then told her, "Actually, I'm a temp and nobody else has come in yet so I'm not sure. If you'd like, I can email him a message from you."

She replied, "No, I already left a message. Several messages. When do you think he'll come in?" I sighed. "Again ma'am, I'm a temp, from an agency. I'm the first to arrive at the office, and I don't see any notes about when he's expected in. So I'm not sure."

Her response? "Oh, well that's okay. I was a temp once too." Lady, I *know* it's okay. I don't feel badly that you can't reach someone. Perhaps if you'd told me your issue and I agreed it was as urgent as you think it is, I might offer to track down the attorney's cell phone and call him.

The chances of that being the case are pretty slim though. This guy doesn't do a type of law that has real emergencies (criminal, family, etc.) so when a client thinks something is an emergency more likely they're just dizzy with the power of having someone work for them and want hand-holding. I wonder how many more times she'll call back before the lawyer shows up. So far we're up to three.

People, a little tip from me to you. When you're desperately trying to reach someone and keep getting their gatekeeper, leave your NAME. This woman has called three times! Not once has she told me her name! Yes, I've asked. That means if the attorney calls in, I can't say, "Mary's called three times for you, she urgently wants to talk with you." All I could possibly say is, "Some lady called three times but won't leave a message." Attorneys don't want to hear that. They don't want their time wasted with useless information.

Life Sucks

Mama Nabi totally hit the nail on the head the other day - working makes me happy. I like having a reason to get up and get dressed each morning. I like making my tiny contribution to society. I like having structure to my day. I like earning my money rather than collecting unemployment.

The two-week temp job has ended, and I am sad. This evening I went to look at an apartment in this same neighborhood. It's $985. It's at the top of five huge hills where no buses run. It's a room in an old lady's house. There's a kitchen smaller than my bedroom closet. It's not an apartment attached to a house. It's a bedroom in someone's home. A home that smells like an old woman.

Today I got an email from the City of San Francisco. I applied for a job with them several weeks ago. Apparently I am disqualified from the application process because of something I did not understand. I guess you have to be in a training program, or have taken a specific training, but I didn't, or haven't.

Wooffers had sent me an email earlier this week asking me to respond back that I agree, saying that on May 15th she'd given me 60 days notice. I didn't email her back. Yesterday, at my temp job, I met with a lawyer who does tenant advocacy. Three or four times he said, "I wouldn't pay her any more money."

That is what I walked out of our meeting understanding. That a lawyer advised me not to pay any more rent. Wooffers expects me to pay her $500 on May 29th, representing half a month's rent from June 1 - June 15th. Then my last month's rent that I gave her before I moved in would cover June 16th through July 15th.

When I got home from the temp job this afternoon Wooffers asked me to read my emails and respond. I went to look at the old lady room, and when I came back I told Wooffers that obviously she does not want me here, and obviously I don't want to be somewhere that I'm not wanted, so I want to leave as soon as possible. Which means if I can be out of here by June 15th, I will.

Wooffers reply was that as long as I give her 30 days notice that will be fine. She then told me that she wants me to move out because I do not follow her instructions with her precious woofs. This, even after she has gone out of her way to praise me for ignoring them routinely (which is what she told me to do when I come home), saying that most people can't repeatedly ignore dogs that rush to greet them.

What I understand is that Wooffers wants to tell me in great detail (that keeps changing) how much I suck, and then wants me to agree with her, and THEN on top of that, agree that she is generous to be putting up with me for as long as she is. The cherry on top is when Wooffers all but begs me to discuss my feelings about whatever issues she's raised, which of course I refuse to do, saying my feelings don't matter.

Wooffers, emphatically: But your feelings DO matter, to me.

Thing is, I don't give a shit what matters to her at this point. She wants me to care so much about her delicate emotional state, and that for a couple of days she was in her bedroom with her door closed, supposedly because of me. And I just don't. Wooffers wants me to agree how much she's gone out of her way for me, and I won't.

She has created a world where everything revolves around her. I refuse to revolve around her. The end of this month is two full years since I got laid off and stopped working for Tuna and Nice Partner. I can not sustain myself. I am totally fucking cracking. I can not both be out of work and not have a comfortable place to live.

I am a homebody. I like to putter around my house, reading books, playing online, rearranging my furniture. Right now I can not find my true lefty scissors from second grade. I can not reach anything on the top shelf of my closet. I can not find my favorite bowl. I am not comfortable here. I want to go home, but I have nowhere to go and no money to get there.

Edited to add: Wooffers has told me that it's best I keep my bathroom door closed at all times, because the woofs will otherwise go in and make a mess, eating the garbage and whatnot. I keep the door partially closed, but not completely. I have never even seen either woof so much as stick their nose in there. Also, don't bathrooms need to air out? There's no window that can be opened. Maybe I'm imagining things but I feel like it smells musty and moist. This bothers me. Just wanted to mention that since apparently this is an airing of the grievances.

Less Than Two Days Left

For most of last week and all of this week, I'm temping at a law firm, covering for two new-to-the-firm partners whose also-new-to-the-firm-because-they-brought-her-with-them secretary is on vacation for two weeks.

These are like the nicest partners EVER. Seriously, just such a pleasure to work with, they give me plenty to do, etc. I even said something to the female partner today while I was filing in her office about how much I'm enjoying my time here, and hey, has Barb considered retiring? I swear to you it was due to major restraint that I managed not to break into song and dance when the partner confirmed that yes, in fact Barb HAS floated the idea by them.

I sit next to a lovely Italian woman from New York who is the assistant to HR. It is such a breath of fresh air to chat with somebody so direct, with somebody who talks fast, somebody who understands why it's great to find a nearby place for lunch that sells Boar's Head meat.

So far, I have not heard anyone screaming, nor have I seen anyone crying in the bathrooms. Both of these things have happened at other firms.

The desk I have been sitting at is covered with turtles and pictures of cats. On my very first day, I said something to the next-door woman about "I guess Barb like turtles," and she leaned over conspiratorially and as she pointed to the picture of two turtles said, "This is George, and this is Elizabeth. Wait, maybe it's the other way around. Anyway, George and Elizabeth ... ya know ... do it. When Barb puts them together they stay connected for five whole days! And Elizabeth here, she has a delicate bladder, and what with her uterus being right next to her bladder, well you can imagine the problems! So Barb has to be very careful in making sure George doesn't hurt Elizabeth."

Even the staple remover at the desk is in the shape of a turtle. Apparently this firm never hires temps and everyone is confused as to why these two partners need a temp. I can understand this being confusing, especially considering that each secretary (aside from the one I'm covering for) has four or five attorneys (which is too much!).

On Wednesdays this firm bakes cookies in the afternoon. At 3pm they just send out an email saying "Warm cookies are in the kitchen!" and there's a stampede to go get some. On Friday mornings they have bagels and pastries and fruit. Those are the good things. The bad things are the high lawyer to secretary ratio I mentioned, and the fact that you have to "punch in" and "out" on a virtual time clock. I mean, I don't have to, since I'm not an employee. But that can be a real pain in the ass. Say you're coming back from lunch or walking in first thing at the start of the day, and one of your five lawyers sees you and asks you to do something, telling you it's a rush. Of course you just start rushing and 28 minutes later when things have died down you realize it looks like you just took a leisurely hour and a half lunch.

The last thing I'm not a fan of is that this firm has terrible training. There are no instructions anywhere (granted, they never have temps, so maybe there's really no need) on how to do things, office protocols, who gets called for which issues, etc. It's pretty frustrating to come in to a law firm, wanting to appear competent and make a good impression, but then spend 10 minutes away from your desk looking for an envelope, or taking double the time it should take to get a copy made because nobody told you a user number was needed, or which one you should use.

As I said though, everyone's been super-friendly, so I'd rather put up with these frustrations than dealing with lawyers who scream. I hope they plan to hire some new baby attorneys for the fall. You know, like maybe five. Or Barb could just retire and spend her golden years with George and Elizabeth.

P.S. Apple has not said anything to me other than hello and goodbye when I say it to her as I walk past.

When Work Worlds Collide

Oh my god you guys! I am temping this week (I have the most awesome shit to tell you about this firm and this particular desk - look for a weekend post), and SO GLAD I got to work early this morning so I have time to tell you what I discovered this morning. Wait, let''s be honest here. I am so glad I got to work early this morning because now I can blog and am not worried someone will see this window open on my computer screen. Whatever.

Okay. So! Remember Apple? You must go click those links to refresh your memory, I'll wait. Great, you're back. So I stroll into work early this morning, figuring I'll take the time to call the dude at the temp agency who placed me here, just to check in, and I come upon Apple sitting at the reception desk! I was barely able to resist the urge to say the first two things that came to mind which were, "EWW!" and "What the fuck are YOU doing here?" and instead squeaked out a hello. That filtering concept really works, right?

Apple must have forgotten how much she hated me when we previously worked together, because she was all happy and smiley. We chatted for a minute or two, and she told me the office where we first met closed down at the end of March. Speedy moved to LA to work out of that office. Everyone else was laid off. It's hard to imagine, to be honest with you. I mean, Speedy was SO BUSY. He had TONS of cases. Of course, one attorney can't keep a seven attorney office opened through a slump, I know that. But this is a clear indicator to me that the economy is still falling, not picking up yet.

I hope Apple is not at that reception desk all day long. I walk back and forth in front of it multiple times a day, both to get to one of the partners I'm temping for and to get to the copy room, and I don't want to have to make phony small talk with her.

Okay I must go pretend to work now that it's 8:30 and I start getting paid to be sitting here now.

UPDATE: The Apple will be at the desk all day today and all week tomorrow. I gotta find another way to get to the copy room, stat.

Floating

I'm not just floating between desks, but also between law firms these days. This week I'm working for three partners, two of whom are gay, while their secretary is off at Burning Man. I haven't been trained here, so attorneys give me things to do and I nod like I understand, but I don't. Yesterday afternoon I emailed the HR woman who coordinates floater placement and asked her whose brain I can pick on conflict reports and submitting new matters. Supposedly there will be a quick training session today.

Today's product that we're unofficially testing is Lubriderm Skin Nourishing Moisturizing Lotion with Shea and Cocoa Butters. I should be honest with you guys - I have naturally soft skin, courtesy of my great-grandma, who was generous enough to pass it on down to my grandpa, who passed it on to my mother, who gave it to me. But, just like some people believe you can never be too thin or rich, I believe you can never have soft enough skin.

This stuff went on really well. I always notice if lotion ('it puts the lotion in the basket') is too watery, and this was not. I am not in love with the smell - it's not at all overpowering, but when I do smell it, I am kind of reminded of babies who just got a bath. Which would be as nice as it sounds, except it's as if that baby's mother sniffed her kid and decided that despite the sweet baby smell, the baby needed a little something extra, and put on some smelly stuff.

You should all come meet me on my lunch hour to pet my hands - that's how soft they are. I will have to investigate at some point whether the regular Lubriderm can achieve this level of softness. Later on I will report back as to how long the softness lasted. I know you're all anxiously awaiting the results of this highly scientific testing.

UPDATE: It worked well, but did not last until lunch time when used after 9:30 a.m. Semi-frequent reapplication needed.

Percolating

I hate holding back. I always do it, yet I hate it. You know what pisses me off? That the Chinese are cheating. See, it wouldn't piss me off as much if some less powerful place were cheating. Because I'd understand. You would too. It still wouldn't be right, of course, but we'd understand.

But China is CHINA. They are strong and powerful. They are fucking workhorses. They are motivated and determined and don't need to cheat. But they are. And because of that, while once I was all, ehh, I'm not that impressed with this year's crop of Olympic gymnasts, now I'm all go Shawn Johnson.

You know what else pisses me off? Coinstar. Granted, I'm not the most popular girl around, so yes, you could say I have more time on my hands than most to sit around rolling my coins (which sounds like a euphemism but isn't). But, I used to work like 65 hours a week and even then I found time to sort and roll rather than dumping them into a machine that does it for me and then takes a percentage of that money.

Especially the people who have kids - great way to teach them about money, wouldn't you say? I can't help but wonder - are the people who claim not to have time the same people who are in debt? What did people do before things like coin-counting machines existed? They simply found the time, right?

I wonder about this. What is everyone so busy doing? Is everyone afflicted with fomo? It's all how you prioritize. People think they're so busy, but really ... maybe everyone's just busy making sure they look busy. Yesterday I worked at a desk covering three attorneys. My phone rang just once, and it was the person who signs my timecard. No mail was sent out, no pleadings were filed. Granted, this doesn't mean the attorneys were not busy. A lot gets done via e-mail these days. But they didn't need me there.

When I first started working, I felt really uncomfortable as the 21 year-old in an office full of "real" grownups, especially when they'd talk about holidays. "What are you doing for Labor Day Weekend, Green?" Nothing. "What do you have going on for the three-day weekend?" Same shit I normally have going on for two-day weekends. These people all went into the city or out to the Hamptons and had elaborate plans for meeting up with other people that necessitated shopping trips at Roosevelt Field on their lunch hours.

So much pressure to have something happening. Now when I smile and say, "Just relaxing," people are jealous and tell me about how they have to run here and there and satisfy all the different friends and family members. Though to them "relaxing" probably involves spas and nail salons and massages and wine and eating fancy food. To me "relaxing" just means reading a good library book, going for a walk, sorting the mail, and maybe getting some laundry done.

I was chatting with someone last night and at one point realized I can't remember the last time I had a crush. At some point while living in Florida, I simply stepped back from the rat race of life. I'm no longer competing with society. I stopped competing because I realized I would never win. Sometimes I forget I'm not competing, but then a homeless man will spit at my feet when I walk by and it reminds me of my place.

Red-Headed Stepchild

This has been a hard week. Five days, five desks. Today I was scheduled to be at a specific desk, but the attorney is home sick with a cold so they decided to reassign me. Eventually. I sat at that desk pretending to read some secretarial procedures handbook while waiting. I feel like the red-headed stepchild of the secretaries. Often forgotten and not accounted for, plopped at whatever desk is available, often last minute.

Finally they asked me to go to a different floor - a secretary had called in sick. I was told it's a busy desk. I get up here, and bitch is all ergonomical up the ass - fancy mouse that looks like it belongs on Star Trek, partially split keyboard, gel wrist pads, etc.

There is no guide here. Every secretary is supposed to have a floater guide for when a floater (me) is covering their desk. This way I will know things like whether or not I'm supposed to answer the attorneys phones, who gets mail, how the attorneys work, etc. It can be very useful. Back in the olden days when I worked for Tuna and Nice Partner, I went so far as to put on mine that if a woman called for Nice Partner and simply said, "Hi, is he around?" that was Nice Wife.

So I'm guideless here. I looked up who this secretary works for and found out the senior paralegal (who the bulk of the work comes from) is out today. Then there are two associates - one of whom has been on the phone since 9:30, the other of whom is pregnant and did not seem very friendly. Obviously she is excused from being friendly what with being pregnant and all, but she was sitting when I introduced myself and I did not see that she was all knocked up, so at first, just thought she was a bit aloof. For anyone wondering, no, she does not have the pregnancy glow the secretly pregnant secretary at the other firm had.

I also want to mention that I ran out of yogurts accidentally (yes, this is not all an act - I eat yogurt about five days a week and wear green regularly and am in fact wearing a green shirt today) and have not had breakfast. I am hungry. But not hungry enough that I want to eat the congealed mess of whatever the hell is in the purple M&M-with-bunny-ears-on-it coffee mug left on the desk.

Okay then. Just wanted to share. For those of you who are able to do so, please eat a healthy breakfast, and think of me. Thank you.

Props to the Smelly Stuff

That lotion I used yesterday that smelled too flowery and overpowering? May smell bad, but gotta be honest here - it kept my hands pretty soft throughout the day. I only put it on that one time in the morning, and it lasted through half a dozen handwashings and past dinner time.

In case you were considering it.

New Goodies

Once again, I'm at a new desk. Sometimes it's the same desk for the week, but sometimes it's a different one each day. This week it's a different one each day. This means if you want to get together with me this week, do it in the early part of the week, because by the end of the week my nerves are going to be frazzled.

Anyway. This woman whose desk I'm sitting at? A fan of the Cutesy. She has a .... thing, I don't even know what to call it, of six pigs. They're attached, and it's four piggies and two big pigs - a mom and a dad - that are all supposed to be cozy in a bed together. This Cutesy Thing is the length of a keyboard, and has been lovingly placed across the top of the keyboard. I wish I could take a picture of this for you. There are bows, lace, pom poms, light pink, jaunty little caps (one with lace, one with a pom pom), the works. It's a little insane. Don't even get me started on the leis or the rubber duckies or oh my god the collection of Precious Moments figurines taking over one full shelf.

For our testing pleasure, there is Bath & Body Works White Cherry Blssom Body Cream. The smell is a bit too heavy for me - too flowery and too much flowers. I tend to like the fruitier ones. Did I ever tell you I was a product tester for Bath & Body Works? No? Yeah, I was, when I lived in Florida. Good times.

May I recommend the cucumber melon instead? Ooh! Or the black raspberry vanilla! Even better.