Interview Series Marches On

A while back I interviewed Nicole. Now she's turning the tables.

Is there a moment in your life you'd like to take back or do over? What about it would you change? So, so many of them. It's wrong to say "all of them," right? I became friends with a girl who has the same name I do at ballet, and invited her over to my house eventually. We were in my bedroom, laying on the floor playing while my mom was downstairs in the kitchen. I think we were about nine or 10, and she wanted to play with these cut-out doll things she found in my bookcase. For several years I'd been over the whole doll thing, but in trying to be a nice hostess I let her pick what we played.

She was fat. Not just a little overweight, but fat. And when she looked at the doll in her hand and said, "She's fat," I accidentally blurted out, "You shouldn't talk." I gasped. I don't think I've ever been more horrified at my own actions. She immediately put her head down in her arms and I didn't know what to do. So I left my bedroom and ran downstairs to tell my mother what I'd done. Of course, she told me I had to go back and apologize and to think before speaking in the future, so I did. The girl nodded and we went on playing.

We stayed friends for a year or two after that - as long as we were taking ballet together I think. It was one of those moments that made me think that maybe I was really a horrible person deep down, and I was just unable to hide it all the time.

Is there anyone in your past you wish you could say something to? Who would it be and why? You know, I got teased and bullied and made fun of so much growing up. And I've seen those Maury shows where a former loser confronts their bully after they've gotten implants and a short dress. I'd never do that. Not because I already have big boobs, but because the truth is, I don't think any of the kids who teased me feel all that badly about it. I think a third of them wouldn't remember it, a third would say I deserved it, and a third would say I should be over it.

I would really like to talk to my grandma again though. She died two months after I turned 18, while I was away at college. It was sudden, and the last time I'd spoken to her I'd felt like she was angry at me. It's not that there's something specific I'd like to say to her; I'd just like us to talk again. She was a true example of pure unconditional love, and it would be nice to thank her for that. While I was at it, I'd also thank her for keeping that shimmery unicorn sticker I gave her on her purse for two years, and for letting us watch cartoons in the morning before school. And for always having Pine Brothers cough drops in her purse.

And I'd ask her for her recipe for booze cake, because that was really good.

What blogs do you read regularly and why? You can see by the sidebars which blogs I read. The only ones I don't list are the ones that are password protected, because ... what's the point? Whoever you are, I am secretly fascinated by you, and I always have been. I want to know if you really like your job, look in your closet, meet your friends, look at your books, everything. As a little kid we used to take a lot of hellishly long car trips. I hated it. Spent a lot of time telling my dad the speed limit as it flashed by while my mom and brother slept. I'd also look at the people in the cars around us and wonder where they were going. If they liked the people in the car with them. If they were happy about where they were going.

I've never stopped thinking that way. I am interested in everybody. Reading people's blogs is a great way to people-watch.

What television show do you watch that you won't admit to your friends? Is there any lower low than The Hills (season finale tonight!)? I've been known to flip over to Oprah sometimes if I'm home for it. I've never been one of those people who tapes their soap opera or anything. Also, when Trixie lived here, she got the Oprah magazine, and I'd read that too.

If you're a blogger, what is the best post you think you've ever written? Can't answer this. The ones that got the most hits where when my family found out about my blog. Everyone's fascinated by a trainwreck, huh? But that wasn't great writing - that was numb writing. Some of the Loose Earlobe Lady posts were a lot of fun to write, as are some of the fucking yoga ones. This one was fun.

Jaw Droppings

A few months ago I had to give something to LEL. I could have rolled my chair over to her in-box with one push of my feet, because that's how close we sit to each other. But I didn't. I got off my ass and walked the entire five feet over to her desk and said something along the lines of "Cowboy asked that you file this in the Grumpleson file" as I placed the document in her in-box. Would you like to know the response I got to that? Sure you would!

"In the future, when addressing me, please go around and stand in front of my desk at the ponywall; don't stand next to me."

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. Talk about standing on ceremony! Talk about making people jump through hoops! Talk about earlobes that swing in the breeze!

But whatever - killing LEL with kindness is my method of dealing with her, so I agreed to do that. In reality, I never do that. I e-mail her, I wait until she's not at her desk to give her things, and twice I've even gone so far as to use our mail guys to deliver inter-office envelopes to her.

Today LEL came to my desk to give me a document of Tuna's, claiming it's mine to file. She did it smugly, pleased to be giving me work to do. I was in a mood.

"LEL? In the future, please address me from the other side of the ponywall."

LEL's response? "EXCUSE ME?" Her jaw dropped.

I slapped the most innocent expression I could onto my face and replied, "What? I'm just asking that you extend the same courtesy to me that you demanded." And then I walked away without waiting to see her reaction. And I didn't trip over the carpet until I'd rounded the corner and she couldn't see me anymore. Thank goodness.

And yes, I laugh at myself when I trip.

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.

The Furious Filer

LEL is very particular about her files. She doesn't like for anybody else to touch them. It's only because we work in the same department that she "allows" me to pull files from "her" file cabinets (they're really Cowboy's file cabinets). But I'm never EVER to put anything back. I'm not to put files back in the cabinets, nor am I to file any documents in the files. Once I've taken something out, I'm to put it in LEL's in-box and let her re-file.

She's excellent at her filing. She loves her filing. Nothing makes LEL happier than a big fat batch of filing to plow through. She runs back and forth between her desk and the file cabinets, earlobes flapping wildly in the breeze she creates, clutching papers to her chest the whole way. You know how professional tennis players grunt when they serve? She grunts the same way when she staples or three-hole punches documents.

I am the exact opposite way. I mourn the loss of the old days, when I had a file clerk who did all my filing for me, and did it with a smile. I hate filing. I hate the paper cuts that it brings, I hate the alphabet, I hate everything about filing.

Lately something weird has been happening. Tuna will call me or pull me into his office, tell me this is to be kept quiet, and then ask me to do something like fax a document to a client. It'll always be something Cowboy is involved with. Of course I say okay, of course I go do whatever is needed. But let's review. LEL is Cowboy's secretary. I used to be, but haven't been for quite some time now. A client is a client is a client, right? I mean, LEL is a fucking wackjob, but she can walk over to the copy room and toss some clipped papers in a bin marked "FAXES", right? And yet this keeps happening.

Yesterday Tuna had me take a letter signed by Cowboy and FILE IT when LEL wasn't looking. Today he had me take that letter and fax it to someone. Then I was to put it back. All without LEL noticing. Getting the letter and faxing it were no problem. But then LEL was on a filing spree and I couldn't get to the cabinets without her noticing. So it was sitting on my desk for a while.

Then I get an e-mail Tuna has forwarded me from LEL, asking him if he has the exact file I have. Crap! I write back that it's on my desk, and will put it back as soon as she walks off to do anything else other than filing. I get my chance and run to slide the file back into place. So cloak and dagger. Tuna and I meet up in his office, and I tell him he can just tell her to check again, and it'll be there. Sure we'll be contributing to her eventual nervous breakdown, but hey, it's inevitable - might as well speed the process along, right? No? No.

Tuna decided instead that he'd tell LEL he had me pull something from the cabinet while she was away, because Cowboy needed it done immediately, and he told me to put the file back. He promised to tell LEL that I vehemently protested but he insisted. It was a very quiet conversation they had. I didn't even realize when it was happening. But all of a sudden LEL was at her desk, pounding away at her keyboard. POUNDING to the point I wondered if her fingers could possibly go straight through.

And then I got the e-mail from her. A very nice e-mail, thanking us for helping, but reminding Tuna that she prefers to file her own documents and asking that we both respect that in the future. Thanks! It almost seemed like a normal, nice e-mail. Except that I heard the POUNDING as she typed it out. LEL's fury was radiating off her body.

I think LEL is losing her mind. Like, seriously. Losing her mind. As uncomfortable as I am sitting next to someone I NEVER EVER speak to, I'm a pretty quiet person. I'm no Chatty Cathy. LEL LOVESSSSSS to talk. She talks to everyone, whether or not they have the time or inclination to talk with her. So I know it's a real effort for her to not talk with me. On the other side of her sits Cat Lady, who is back to not talking with LEL (it's hard to keep up).

Cat Lady wants LEL to go crazy. She wants bad things to happen to her. It's going to happen. I've been around crazy people before, and I can sense these things coming. Just like alcoholics have to hit their bottoms, crazy people have to break.

LEL is going to break soon. There are little signs that show me she's cracking. Like the fact that LEL sent Tuna an e-mail today asking him to do some administrative task while she's out of the office tomorrow. That's completely inappropriate - she only asked him to do it because she didn't want to talk to me. LEL is going to fall down in six months or less. That's my prediction. I'll let you know what happens.

In completely unrelated news, I drafted a Notice of Motion and Motion to Expunge Lis Pendens, Supporting Declaration of Nice J. Partner, and Memorandum of Points and Authorities this afternoon. I saved. I hit print. As I got up from my chair to fetch the pleadings from the printer, Nice Partner called me. Bypassing the printer I went to his office. Only to find out our opposing counsel had just called and was going to withdraw. His lis pendens. Which means all that work I had just done was for naught. In a monotone voice, I said to Nice Partner, "Thank you for providing me with this exciting opportunity to practice my typing and pleading skills." He laughed and apologized that it came down that way.

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.

Hanukah

I saw Hanukah socks made by Hot Sox that were much cuter than the ones pictured here, with different colored dreidels, last time I was in Nordstrom's. And I paused when I saw them, because Loose Earlobe Lady would TOTALLY wear those. She'd love them, and she'd show them off to everybody. I thought about buying them for her. Then I thought about all the mean things she says, and decided, "Fuck it. Fuck her. There are better ways to spend my money than on someone who's consistently mean to me."

Despite last week's horrible project that forced us to work together, we got along quite nicely. And then today when I arrived at work, there was a brand new menorah on my chair. LEL bought me a menorah. For no reason at all, except to be nice.

Guess I'm going to go buy some socks later this week.