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.

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?

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.

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.

And Everywhere That Green Went, LEL Was Sure To Go

I joined the Social Committee at work a while ago. Guess who's attended the last two meetings? That's right, your favorite heavily perfumed grandma has decided she should be involved too. She always sits diagonally across the table from me, and makes sure to challenge something I say. At the first meeting she tried to instigate a jew-off, since we were the only two jews at the meeting, but I wouldn't bite.

At the most recent meeting LEL agreed to be in charge of our Lunar New Year celebration. Which the Head Grandma had to keep reminding her was not to be referred to as the Chinese New Year. Being in charge of a specific event is not as big a deal as you'd think. What's that? No, I haven't been in charge of any events yet. Shut up, we're talking about LEL here, not me.

Anyway. Being in charge of an event that's been done before means it's really easy. Ummm... so I hear from other people. Whatever, shut up. You look in the file at what was done last time, and do it again, unless there are notes that people complained. Celebrating the Lunar New Year means ordering Chinese food from a local restaurant for 110 people. Not very difficult. Except that apparently it is for LEL.

Word in the hallway is, LEL has asked the Head Grandma (who runs Social Committee meetings) so many questions that she got told "Hey, you volunteered to be in charge of this, so do it." LEL already knows which place to order from. A year ago, Cowboy had her order Chinese food one day for everyone in our corner, and we all agreed the food was great. So LEL already knows where to order the food from. And really, restaurants are used to catering events. They know how it's done. I mean sure, you can request specific things you like, but in general, if you're trying to feed over 100 people, you want a little of everything.

But no. A half hour ago I heard LEL enlisting the help of our facilities coordinator. At first it made sense - you have to reserve a conference room, make sure it's allowed, whatever. But because LEL and I sit so close, and because she is unable to speak any quieter than you would if you wanted to be heard while seated at the Superbowl, I know LEL was discussing which dishes to order with the guy. Maybe she's worried everyone will know she's in charge, will blame her if something they hoped for isn't there? But it's free food. The attorneys LOVE free food. The only time I've seen Tuna run is when he's found out about leftover food after a meeting. COME ON! Just be bold and decisive and make a damn decision! It's just food.

In other, unrelated news, LEL is expecting her first granddaughter. This means I will have to hear a lot more of "HELLO GORGEOUS!" and "Tell Gramma 'I lub you'" Oy to the vey.