Three Months Shy

Within a year and a half of working for the Turkey, I had saved up enough money to live on for a year. Not lavishly or anything, but I could get by. On Friday Turkey announced he is shutting down the law firm. He has accepted a position as a partner at another firm. Ten minutes after that announcement, he laid off the office manager, and two hours later, was having the locks re-keyed. Within an hour of being told, I was on the phone with a headhunter, and solidly got her on Team Green - she is going to coldcall some of her clients where she thinks I would be a good fit, and see if they can make a position for me. Ten minutes after that (thank goodness for lunch hours) I was talking to a second one - the one who placed me with Nice Partner, Tuna, and Cowboy.

I was out of work three months shy of four years. During that time I had some long-term temp jobs of course. Three months here and two months there. But that whole concept of being a super-star where you temp so they'll beg you to become permanent never worked for me. Job luck is not my type of luck. You want to find a penny on the street? I'm your girl! A job, though? No, sorry.

Turkey's announcement came when I am three months shy of working for him for two years. He assured me that I will have a job through the end of the month, maybe even a week or two past that. He's sorry he can't bring me to the new firm, a firm that has a posting up on their website for a legal secretary (which I applied to three days before Turkey's big news, coincidentally). Turkey claims the firm doesn't like incoming partners to bring their own secretaries, because then neither person integrates well into the firm. You never know if you can believe Turkey.

What I know for sure is that I have lasted longer than any other secretary (the office manager, who has access to these sorts of records, told me). What I know for sure is that I have not been able to get a good night's sleep since hearing the news. What I know for sure is that being out of work as long as I was? It did something bad to me, mentally, emotionally. Something that never quite got fixed. That low-level panic I had all the time? It's back.

The glancing 10 times in six seconds at a price? The rapid mental calculations? The feeling of something substantial yet slight, like a goose, sitting on your chest, making it hard to breathe? The urge to clean out your home so you won't have a hard time packing your shopping wagon when you become homeless? They are all back. Three months shy of two years. Join me, won't you? In saying fuuuuuuuuck.

Let's Share With the Group!

Abby tagged me. What's funny about this is that it comes through Nicole, who I interviewed a few weeks ago during her interview series. If you want me to interview you, let me know. It's exactly as much fun as I thought it would be.

What prompted you to start blogging? I wanted to start blogging back when I moved to Florida, except that I didn't know blogging existed. Despite that, I was pretty much writing blog posts in my head a few times a week, and kept thinking "I should write this shit down!" but never did. After moving to San Francisco, I stumbled upon a blog, read for a few months, and knew I should be doing that. So I e-mailed that blogger, asked a few questions and got up and running.

Have you ever been the victim of a crime? Not one anybody has been charged with, but yes. I got in two fights in ninth grade. Maybe they weren't charged because there was no blood and no bones were broken, I don't know. Oh yeah, and I was attacked by a crazy homeless guy shortly after moving here. Also no charges, and this time I know why - because I didn't call the police. If you're wondering why, it's because I wasn't badly hurt, and also more importantly (possibly only because I wasn't badly hurt) dude was crazy. I was looking into his eyes and could see that he was not seeing me. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he backed off.

Have you ever witnessed someone else being the victim of a crime? Shortly after moving to New York (understand that I was three and a half, so my memory is from the viewpoint of a child) my parents, brother, grandparents and I were at a diner (that has since burned down) when guys with guns crashed through the glass doors and chased each other through the restaurant. No shots fired. The crimes I've witnessed have mostly been of the stealing variety - seeing people steal from stores.

What is your favorite color? Why? Green, kelly green. Because I said so.

What talent or skill would you most like to have, that you feel you do not have? God bless it, this is such a hard question. I'd like to have me, but without the learning disabilities. Can we consider not being learning disabled a skill? Because I bump into several of them each time I go to try something. I'd love to feel like I could sing (even though a singer told me I can sing), I'd love to be able to pick up other languages easily, read music, navigate, understand when people say things... I could go on and on.

If you could go back and do one thing over in your life, what would it be? Would you make a change, or do everything exactly the same? I think I'd try to panic less. When you're panicking you can't focus on anything else - it's basically a huge time-suck. A lot of times people don't have the patience, interest or time to wait for you to get over your issues, and you miss whatever they said.

Oh, and you know what else I'd do over? Years ago, I was working in midtown Manhattan, and rushing to get to Penn Station at the end of the day. I had to cut through Grand Central Station to get to Penn, and I pushed *really* hard on a revolving door to make it move fast. There was an old lady in front of me, and as I exited the revolving door, she turned to me and said, "I almost fell." I am so ashamed of what I did next. I shrugged and rushed off. I've never told anybody about this. Any time this memory from nine years ago pops into my head, a wave of shame rushes through me, and I want to (cry and) find her and apologize profusely. If I could, I'd slow down and not have made that old lady scared she was going to fall down, and I'd certainly have at the very least, apologized for scaring someone.

What do you consider your most physically attractive asset? (Hair, legs, smile, etc.) I'm supposed to say my eyes, because they're blue, but ... eh. I have great calf muscles, and a great smile. If I give you a shit-eating grin, you will not be able to resist smiling back at me.

When do you feel the most vulnerable? Umm... any time I'm not in my bed? Yeah, any time I'm in public really. Any time concentrated attention is on me. I really hate when a slew of people are looking at me. Any time I'm supposed to be learning something.

If you were a rap star, what would your stage name be? I don't know, but you know who would? Golden Boy, in an instant.

What is your favorite curse word? It's not exactly a curse word, but Cowboy and Nice Partner used to say, "God bless it!" really vehemently, and I totally dug it. It comes from Nice Partner's late father, and I should use it more. Fuck is so played out.

Use it in a sentence and tag five other bloggers you'd like to answer the same questions. God fucking bless it, I never know who to pick for these things! I want to pick people who'll actually partake in the festive meal, not just show up for the matzah balls, you know? No? That's okay, me either. Michael, Wide Lawns, Mama Nabi, Dan of [redacted], and TC of I Have Things, please consider yourselves tagged and blog accordingly. Thank you.

*I don't know why it's all in italics - I can't seem to turn it off.

Three and a Half Hours, Three Interviews - Let's Recap

I'll start off by saying these were all with headhunters. This weekend I was thinking about how my job search was going, and decided it had come to a stand still. That's why yesterday, I both signed up to be on the dole, and signed up with Monster.

Yesterday I got two phone calls from people who found me through Monster. Apparently, Monster is the way to go. Maybe.

Interview Number 1:
This interview sucked. The woman was so skinny she almost wasn't even there. Not that I'm one of those fat people who hates skinny people, because I'm not. I'm just saying, her hair was wider than her hips. It was something to be noticed. And blogged about. The interview sucked because this woman saw my resume on Monster, then asked me to e-mail her a Word version of it, only to call me into her office to tell me in person she didn't think she'd be able to find me anything. Bitch! Why must you waste my time!? I am a very busy person! Okay, I'm not. But I could be, and that's what counts.

She kept pushing me to agree to do temp work. Fuck temp work. If I want to temp, I can babysit and just get paid under the table and wear jeans (oh, and still get unemployment). No need to wear fancy clothes and have taxes eat into my money. I hate temping - it's all wrong for my personality. I take a while to warm up to new situations and people. I was totally the type of kid to pee in my pants because I was too embarrassed to ask to go to the bathroom. Yes, I did actually do that once. Okay five times, whatever.

While my second interview was in the same neighborhood as the first, I had almost two hours before it was time to arrive, so I didn't bother going home. Instead I went to get some lunch at a place I found on the street. One of their slogans is "Lettuce rock your world" and while that's corny, it's also a little bit cute. It's a "green" restaurant, which is pretty cool. The food was good, the portions were big, the prices were reasonable for the portions, and yeah, I'd go back. The only two things that didn't impress me were that the music was too loud and despite their sign saying every salad gets a slice of fancy bread, I was not given any bread. I didn't say anything about it though - the salad was more than enough.

Interview Number 2:
I arrived exactly 15 minutes early and sat on their very plush couch/chair thingie for the next 25 minutes, being amused by the drama played out in front of me. A guy walked in two minutes before his alleged interview (you'll see why I say 'alleged' soon) in suit pants that were too long, and a white dress shirt which was untucked in the back. He claimed he had an interview, but couldn't remember who it was with. The receptionist emailed every recruiter asking if they were expecting a "Dan" at 3:30 p.m. None were. He asked if he could just meet with someone now. "No, I'm sorry." Well could he just, I mean, he's here NOW, sooo.... "I'm very sorry, but they all make their own appointments and everyone is booked right now. If you'd like, you can leave your resume and I'll be sure to give it someone so they can call you to schedule an appointment." I don't really have my resume. For fuck's sake Dan, pull your shit together! You show up at an interview with your shirt untucked (who hasn't primped in the elevator?), not knowing who you're supposed to meet with, and without a resume?!

The receptionist finally kicked Dan out. The recruiter pulled me into her office, and we had a 15 minute interview. It went swimmingly. I left.

Interview Number 3:
When I arrived back in the lobby after Interview Number 2, I turned my cell phone back on and listened to my voice mail. (J, I'll e-mail you!) Another recruiter calling about my resume that he found on Monster. I called him back from the lobby and he asked when he could meet with me. Are you busy now? I can be there in 20 minutes. He could, and gave me his address. I hung up and commenced panicking. You see, I pulled 20 minutes out of my ass. I had a very general idea of where he was, but no concrete understanding of which direction I should walk in to get to his building.

I walked out of the lobby to think about whether I should walk right or left. Looking across the street, I saw the best sight I could have possibly seen. No, not a taxi. NO, not a donut shop! I saw the address the guy had given me. I skipped across the street and was in the reception area less than ten minutes after we hung up the phone.

Met with the recruiter who was sweet as pie. He has a position he thinks I might be good for, even though I don't have as much CA litigation experience as the firm is asking for. He's going to call Nice Partner and talk with him and then plead my case to the firm. He was impressed with my confidence. So was I, to be honest.

So those were my interviews. Tonight or tomorrow I'll check out the trade newspaper that lists jobs in SF. My goal is to be working by the beginning of July.

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?

Please Understand

It's not that I wish you are having a bad day. It's that I think maybe my bad day won't feel quite so bad if I know I'm not alone in the bad-day having.

Lowlight so far:

Yesterday I wasn't feeling well, and left work early. Today, Nice Partner saw me and said, "Feeling better? What was wrong? Rabies?"

Did my boss just call me a dog?! I mean damn, I know compared to his very thin, very blonde, very perfect wife I'm ugly, but it's really not cool to say that.

Hey Nice Partner! Not so nice. Sure, we joke around sometimes, but we are NOT on that level, got it? Let's not make me blog about this again.

Update: You're off the hook, guys. Moments after I posted, Paralegal Boy came to talk with Nice Partner about exhibits needed for trial. As they were talking outside Nice Partner's corner office, Kennedy came down the hallway and asked ParaBoy if he sent something to Court for him.

"Not yet, I just wanted to ask if I should redact..."

Kennedy grabs his head and tilts the top half of his body down towards the floor. "Now I'm in contempt of court! We just lost the whole trial. It HAD to be in by 9 a.m."

Nice Partner takes this opportunity to duck back into his office.

ParaBoy, "Nice Partner, I'll get right back to you!" He then turns to Kennedy. "Did you want me to include the graph with the rents ..."

"It doesn't matter. Just send it. Right away. I had 24 hours to get this in. Now I'm in contempt."

I guess having lost a trial and put a partner into contempt of court is worse than being called a dog by your boss.

OOH! And, AND! As if that wasn't enough!

I just told File Clerk this whole story, right as a black Baby Attorney came over to us. Someone else was nearby as File Clerk and I were talking, and when Baby Attorney left, they said, "Did he just take that file? I needed that! This is terrible!"

And without missing a beat, File Clerk responded, "Yeah, it IS terrible, we should lynch him." Immediately a horrified look spread across her face as she realized what she'd said.

Good grief. My bad day is not so bad after all.

Hey Green, How's Work Going?

Thank you so much for asking! It's going well, but it won't be for much longer. Here's the breakdown. I work in a specific department, that has a grand total of three attorneys in the San Francisco office of the firm. The Cowboy is the head of the department, and is moving it closer to his house. He is taking the other two attorneys with him. The names of those attorneys? Tuna and Nice Partner. Thus, I am out of a job. But wait, you work for Name Partner too, what about him? Well, yes, thank you for paying attention. The truth is I don't do much work for Name Partner at all, and he can be absorbed by someone else. Thus I am left for nobody to work for and am being axed.

But wait, can't you go to the new office? Or work for some other attorney at your current office? Can't they just pull a position out of their asses?

One at a time, shall we?
1. I live in the city, the new office will be in the 'burbs. I do not own a car and currently have no intention of buying one. I am not willing to do a reverse commute. I would spend at LEAST three hours commuting if I went to the new office. I already have a hard enough time in the winters, leaving work when it's dark out. Getting home even later would drive me to an unsafe level of depression.
2. Gay HR Guy said the corporate attorney they were trying to hire (who they were thinking of throwing me to) fell through. He doesn't know why (bullshit), but that guy isn't coming. There was talk of one of the grandmas retiring this summer, but that's not materializing either. Basically, no grandmas are leaving (unless one kicks the bucket unexpectedly), and no new lawyers are coming in.
3. As much as they like me, and Gay HR Guy assured me they do and I believe him, no, they simply can't pull a position out of their asses. The firm doesn't use floaters, and no, there just simply isn't anywhere they can stick me.

You may be wondering when exactly this happens. I am too. Gay HR Guy spoke with me last Wednesday and he didn't know either. But he did suggest I start looking, said I can use him as a reference, and that I can take off whatever time I need for interviews. Anyone want to meet me for a two hour lunch?! My prediction, based on the dates I saw on the lease for the new office, are late May/early June. Here's the dick move Tuna pulled on me. A while ago, we had a conversation about the new office that went a little like this:

Tuna: Have you heard anything?Green: No, have you?
Tuna: No, but when I do, I'll let you know.

::three weeks later::

Green: Tuna, I heard a lease was signed; do you know what's supposed to happen to me?
Tuna: We're having a conference call on Monday to discuss support staff so I'll find out for you.

::two days later::

Green: Tuna, I'm going to lunch ... unless you want to chat now about Monday's phone call...?
Tuna: No, go ahead, this isn't a good time.

::two days after that::

Green: Tuna will you have time to talk with me about Monday's conference call?
Tuna: Yeah absolutely. Let's just get through this filing and talk later this afternoon.

Yeah, we didn't talk. Clearly Tuna didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. He really should have just never said he'd tell me if he heard anything. This pissed me off, and I was a bit cold to him. Then his daughter had a medical emergency, my mom was in the hospital again, and I forgot to be angry at him. I've really got to start writing these things down. Here's what pisses me off though: after I talked with Gay HR Guy, Tuna kept asking if I'd spoken with him. He was clearly trying to feel me out, and gauge how angry I was. I knew that, and purposely was vague and didn't answer his questions the way he wanted me too (damn, I'm vindictive!). Finally Tuna asked me to come into his office and talk with him.

Tuna: So, how'd it go with Gay HR Guy?
Green: Pretty much the way you'd expect it to go when one person tells another they're out of a job they really liked.

Yeah, I was being bitchy. I'm like that sometimes. Okay, most of the time. (Hmm, maybe that's why I'm not just my own best friend, but my only friend...) Then Tuna goes on to tell me that Gay HR Guy will give me a good reference, and I should feel free to take off whatever time I need for interviews, as if he's doing me a favor out of the goodness of his heart. No fucking way. Green: Yeah, Gay HR Guy mentioned that.

Tuna was off his rocker if he thought I was going to thank him for something he hadn't given me. I'm disappointed in Tuna - I really liked him. Granted, I hold people up to very high expectations, so of course they are destined to fall. But really. Don't shoot off your mouth and tell somebody you'll keep them in the loop, then shut them out, then act like you're doing them a favor when you're really not. Maybe I just need to adjust my assessment of Tuna - he's got good character when it's easy. Maybe that's all its realistic to expect of people.

Not Quite So Powerful

Nice Partner and I have been very busy lately. We have the Case From Hell, where we fire letters and pleadings back and forth with the opposing counsel rapid-fire style. They do sleazy things, like trying to set up ex parte hearings, and we go running to the Judge's secretary, getting her to agree her courtroom doesn't do ex parte. There are threats. There are accusations of lack of professional courtesy. There's Nice Partner yelling to me not to pick up calls from that law firm. There's waiting until 4:55 p.m. to fax letters. It's war.

Today, Nice Partner gives me a pleading for the Case From Hell to revise, telling me it's a rush. I start working on it, when NP comes back and tells me to put it aside. There's a new priority in town. There's a hearing tomorrow on another case. There's no Courtcall set up. Whoops. NP wanted to appear by telephone. He has another Courtcall an hour before this one isn't scheduled. The hearing tomorrow is far from the office. This is a problem. I call Courtcall. No dice - had to be set up at least five days prior.

Nice Partner is pissed. At me, at himself, he doesn't care. His ego cares though - he's a PARTNER and nothing is ever his fault. If a mistake is made, it's on someone else's head, because he didn't make partner by making mistakes. I can see where his mind is going here, and compliment myself for having created a Courtcall file in my Outlook Inbox. Quickly I run a search to see if NP sent me an e-mail telling me to set up a Courtcall. If I dropped the ball that will SUCK. No e-mail. This one wasn't my fault. NP is informed that he last talked to me in February about setting up a March appearance, but there's nothing past then.

I call Courtcall back to ask if they think it's worth calling the Courtroom Clerk. You can do that sometimes - basically ask special permission, see if they'll bend the rules. Generally, I have very good luck when I make these phone calls. In New York, you have to be super duper extra polite when talking to Court personnel, and they're not shy about hanging up on you if you don't have all the information, or you're stupid. In California it's different - they view themselves as there to help YOU, the Person. They thank me when I call for their help. They offer to transfer me AND give me the phone number "just in case."

When I started dealing with the courts here, I kept my same New York attitude - a little nice goes a long way, and that's what I attribute my good luck to in these situations. Before calling the Court, I pull together all my information, gather my thoughts, and wait for LEL to stop squawking. She's so loud that other people can hear her when I'm on the phone, and I feel unprofessional asking people to repeat what they just told me.

I call the Court, and after being transferred twice, get the Courtroom Clerk. I carefully plead my case, making sure to speak quickly but not slur my words. "Sorry, it's five days" the guy tells me. He doesn't sound like he'll be changing his mind. I again explain that my boss has accidentally found himself practically double-booked, and ask if there are any solutions. Yes, I just asked the Court for legal advice, which is not exactly the most perfect thing to do.

But I haven't given any proper nouns except my first name, so it's okay. Plus, you know, we're kind of desperate. "I can't advise you on that. You could have another attorney do a special appearance." I thank him, and hang up. He just contradicted himself, but that's okay.

Nice Partner is a very organized guy - the idea that he dropped the ball flusters him, and he's so upset that I know it's not the time to tell him he's being a big pussy about this. That attorneys CAN be in two places at once. Three is tricky, but two is totally doable.

I slowly walk into his office and tell him we were told no on the waiver of the five-day thing, but I can check around to see if another attorney at our firm is available. Nice Partner curses, and his ego has taken over for his brain now. Of course we were told no because of my incompetence. He demands the phone number, claiming he'll call and get this all straightened out. Okay then, Big Guy. Good luck with that.

Fetching the phone number, I wonder if I can get away with staying in his office to listen to this call, but decide it would fluster Nice Partner, and it's best that I try to listen from my desk. I get distracted by work and can't hear what's going on. Damn LEL for being so loud.

Now it's 4:30 p.m., and NP tells me he doesn't know what he's going to do about tomorrow. Yeah, so he got told no also. Dumbass, ask one of your buddies down the hall to cover for you! I even went so far as to already tell you this!

It takes 45 more minutes for Nice Partner to ask another partner to cover for him. On my way out of the office, I drop the file on the covering partner's chair. An ego can be a dangerous thing.

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.

Three Things, All of Which Would Be Better If I Had Accompanying Pictures

1. Doogie Houser - ever wonder where he is now? I know exactly where he is every weekday morning at 8:55 a.m. He's at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (which is way too long a name, by the way) in San Francisco. He gives the name "Brian" at the register but I can tell he secretly likes when people say "Excuse me, Doogie" to get past him to reach the milk for their non-fat triple caf latte. Doogie, I mean Brian, also stands around with a Crackberry, pretending to read important messages. I'm sure he's really just reading fan mail he had his assistant scan in and email to him. Little letters saying "I loved you in Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle" and the like.

2. A brand new grandma started at our firm yesterday. Today she wore dark red leather pants. With a heavy cable-knit yellow sweater. She looks like the type of woman to be named Linda or Barbara, aside from the leather pants. She doesn't sit near any of the other grandmas, and I'll try to find out this week if she's an actual grandma or just of grandma age.

3. This morning when I went in to Nice Partner's office he was leaning way back in his chair with each foot planted firmly on the edge of his desk. Remember when Ross when to the doctor with Rachel and he hopped up on the table and put his legs in the stirrups? Yeah, just like that.