Things I should have tweeted.
What is with this “cropped pants and high-heeled ankle boots” shit? Because it’s ugly.
I don’t understand how someone with a law degree can’t figure out how to attach a file to an e-mail.
I wish Amazon would not recommend every single edition of a book or movie because you say you own one version.
Tired of the lack of originality in books…have been reading a lot of YA fiction because at least it’s not the same old tired “chased by stalker! oh noes, someone buried in yard! dorky yet hot detective to the rescue again!” shit.
Why is it that people don’t realize when they’re yelling and throwing shit around in a concrete breezeway, that the WHOLE COMPLEX can hear them?
Office. 10pm. Friday. Will kill my boss one procrastinating testicle at a time.
Hate when the boss getting drunk and taking a three hour lunch = me working late.
Realize it looks like I’m complaining about my job again. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been plenty of places that sucked more ass. However, I’m just a little bitter and resentful lately. Let’s get some background here….
This job materialized at about the time I thought I was going to have to suck it up and go file for unemployment again. I had been “laid off” shortly before Christmas. I was told it was a layoff, but really, the bitch known previously as “Ms. Whiny” wanted me gone, since they had hired her a flunky with a law degree. Anyway, in the meantime, I was having seriously nasty lower back pain. I had an MRI in early December that showed some disc bulges, and the doctor said that we should probably try these epidural steroid injections. This is where they shove a giant needle in your spine, and it’s supposed to make you feel better so they don’t have to fuse your whole back together. However, due to the incipient holidays, they couldn’t fit me in for this needle-shoving until January.
I get laid off. I’m depressed and in pain. I have drugs. I take them. I have Shot #1…which was not pleasant, and did not really help. Also, I swear to god the motherfuckers at that fucking hospital are incompetent. First, they tell me not to drink anything after midnight. Then, they want me to pee in a cup so they can be sure I’m not knocked up. Two bags of IV fluid later, they finally give up and tell me they can do a blood test. Great, assholes, why didn’t you just do that shit in the first place? Then, the anesthesia doesn’t really work. A little too much conscious, not enough sedation. Another week or two of drugs. Second shot, which actually does help.
I played a lot of World of Warcraft. I didn’t sleep nearly enough. And about the time I decided, ok, really must get off ass, a chick I worked with at the hellhole calls me. She was the office manager’s assistant who was doing the office manager’s job, and had taken a job at another office, as the actual office manager. She asked if I was still looking. I replied in the affirmative, and e-mailed her a resume. She called two days later and asked if I could start the following day. I didn’t even have to interview, just show up. Which was good, because mentally, I was not ready for the kind of fake nice bullshitface I would have to put on to interview for something.
My job is really not exactly challenging, and the person I replaced was a dipshit. I was working for two younger attorneys. A year later, after demonstrating that I’m not drooling stupid like some of the morons they hire, they decide I get to be docket bitch. For those not in the legal field, there are lots of deadlines. Court deadlines, artificial deadlines created by lawyers trying to feel important, etc. These deadlines, along with hearings and client meetings and depositions and shit like that, all have to go on a calendar, a/k/a the docket. Woe be unto you if you do not correctly remember all of the stupid rules or put something down at the wrong time. Being docket bitch kind of sucks. Not to mention, the program we use to do it has some quirks. Things randomly appear. Closed files show up on to-do lists. There is no way to make it stop, but they blame you. They also blame you for shit the three incompetent asstards who did the job BEFORE you did. The deal was, if I agreed to this horseshit, I would only have to work for one attorney and not two.
Well, that lasted all of four months.
There is one woman in my office…let’s call her Mrs. C. After Mrs. Chokesondick in South Park, because that’s what her boobs look like. Not to mention, she’s annoying and repetitive and has absolutely ZERO problem solving skills. She was supposed to take over attorney #2 for me. She can’t hack it. The only thing she can do is type, and she even fucks that up. I’m not entirely sure why she still has a job. There are a few others…let’s call them Slutface and Artsyface…who also should not have jobs. However, Slutface flashes cleavage a lot and Artsyface looks good in a short skirt, so they stick around. Mrs. C is another refugee from my former place of employment, and the office manager kind of promised her she wouldn’t get shitcanned….so I ended up with two attorneys again, plus the docket, and did I get another raise? Not so much.
Further explanation, dear god this is getting long, but it’s all relevant, pinky swear. This office drinks a great deal of beer. Lots and lots of beer. One of our runner’s jobs is to go get beer and ensure that the fridge is stocked. It’s all for “after hours” but sometimes “after hours” starts a little early on Fridays. The bosses get drunk while they work late. It’s like a frat house after 5:30. They break things (like the emergency exit sign and people’s desk decorations and furniture), then they dictate stuff that I have to decipher the next morning or leave me post-it notes that say things like “WTF IS THIS SHIT”. Really, that’s ok, because I don’t particularly have to watch my mouth at this job, and the same post-it notes go the other direction.
Attorney #2, let’s call him…Mr. Baseball. (Let’s call attorney #1 Mr. Music.) Mr. Baseball is currently going through a divorce. Mr. Baseball is drinking more than usual. He comes in late, leaves early, and is not getting his shit done. His procrastination has resulted in me having to work late more than once. I don’t really give a shit WHAT he does in his personal life. I give a shit when his personal life interferes with my personal life. Which is happening. Then, this afternoon, Mr. Music and the other two attorneys who were actually THERE today drank their lunch, and we were supposed to get to leave early. Did I? Not really. Would I have, if the boss had been there from 1-3pm? Probably.
I hate lawyers.