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.

Today Was a Bad Day & I Didn't Have My AK

Jeepers is gone. I'm not upset that she's gone, but that we don't know why. Nobody's talking, but I'm pretty sure the butler did it with the rolling pin in the cellar. I have been listing on Craigslist and trotting to the post office on my lunch hours to get rid of stuff lately.

One of my biggest learning disabilities is my terrible memory, and lately it's been more terrible than usual. I am blanking on everything, which is bad to do when you're talking to attorneys. The people I work with bill out at over $500 an hour - time really IS money, and they don't want to stand around while you search your brain for a word.

This law firm doesn't have the notepads I like to use, which sounds like a small thing, but seriously, if you were a kindergarten teacher and had no red pen, or a doctor who had the wrong brand stethoscope, or a cook with bad pots and pans, you'd understand. I am tempted to bring in my own from home.

In all fairness, since moving here, I have been pretty lucky about getting nice attorneys. In Florida I worked for guys who scratched their balls daily and spit food when they talked, called me by their wives names, and screamed and threw things. All in one day. It was not unusual to find me crying in my car during my lunch hour then.

And I can't forget working for Remy, who got in a huge fight with his girlfriend, and how he put me in the middle, having me lie for him when she'd call. Oh, and when he had porn mailed to him at work, and I had to open his mail. That was fun too.

But Tuna and Nice Partner? They were mostly great. Which is why yesterday when I got an attitude from a partner I wasn't prepared.

This woman had three different attorneys (two of whom are partners) helping her get a filing ready. An attorney I work for came to me and asked me to edit one pleading and send the other one to Word Processing for them to work on. I did. Then Bitch On Wheels (hereafter referred to as "BOW") comes over to my desk later, and without introducing herself (we've never met), she demands to know what I'm doing. I had not been told the filing was yesterday. I did not know there were more than the two pleadings I was working on. And, I am having my ridiculous memory problems, so intense that I can look at a pleading that says, "Verified Answer" but by the time I look up at BOW my brain is empty and all I can do is gesture at what's in my hand.

BOW: Why are you working on this?!
GY: Because Lesbian Senior Counsel told me to.
BOW: Well where's [other pleading]?
GY: LSC told me to send it to Word Processing, so I did.
BOW: There are like, two changes (more like 50, all formatting, which are more difficult to make than straight edits). You make these changes. Give me that - I'll have [my secretary] do these. Call Word Processing and tell them to stop immediately.

All of this was yelled at me. Now. Logically, I *know* with all my heart and soul that this woman truly is a bitch. And every single person who heard I had to deal with BOW confirmed it. But emotionally? I was not prepared to be spoken to so harshly, and had to resist the urge to cry. I was proud of myself that I didn't - that I got angry. But still. If I had my way, I'd never deal with her again.

Even though this happened yesterday, all the bad feelings about it carried over into today. The secretary who sits next to me is secretly pregnant - she is clearly with child, yet does not talk about it to me, or anyone. I am slightly amused, and wonder if in 20 weeks, she'll be sitting there breathing funny, yet still not saying anything. She seems to want to be left alone to do her own thing, so I don't want to bother her with my questions.

I needed various supplies throughout the day, and I came to find out that there is no ONE place where all supplies are kept. Redwelds are kept in one place, reams of paper in another, envelopes somewhere else, and post-its in yet another. This is ridiculous. The firm has the entire floor. Empty out ONE office, and turn it into a supply room. Put the file cabinets that house exhibit tabs outside of that office, and call it a day. I should not have to do a lap around the entire floor to get three office supplies.

I am not being given all the information I need to do my job. When I ask my attorneys questions, they are tossing issues back at me saying things like, "Yeah, you're going to have to look into that." Okay, hello? I don't look into things like that. I'm not one of those "that's not my job" people, except when not only isn't it my job, but it's also not something I'm capable of doing. It's not my job to look up court procedures to find out if when e-filing a document you still need to include a proof of service even though you don't have to serve the opposing side (I think you don't).

And really, they should not trust me to do that. Improper service is an easy way to get something thrown out. They should be giving me a pleading and telling me who gets served. They should not be telling me to make changes to a document and then send it to Alex. Who the fuck is Alex? I'm NEW! If the name Alex is not on the firm directory, don't expect I'll get it done - you didn't give me enough information.

I know all this shit is just learning curve crap. But my ability to learn is so very fucked up, and I have absolutely no patience for it, since I have no concept of how long it SHOULD take me to learn things. My worry over how long it DOES take overrides any and all realistic expectations others may have for me.

You know when you're just in a raging bad mood? That's me now.