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 I spend most of the week in distant parts doing most annoying and tedious work and slowly melting to a puddle in this thrice cursed heat. And why is it that I’m always the one doing the business tour of the arse end of England anyway?

 

 Despite this, through the wonders of modern technology I still manage to get a lot of my own caseload tackled. I’m feeling accomplished!

 

Except I get back and find that my colleague’s cases are now on my desk. Why is this? Because he’s going on a short-notice-I’m-sure-no-one-minds last minute holiday. Naturally I am the one considered to catch this hurriedly dropped ball because…. Reasons (reasons I more than suspect, especially since colleague #2 who has less work load than me hasn’t been handed these cases because she wanted to spend more time with her husband).

 

I am not amused.

 

 

And then I’m on call this weekend as well? What the hell guys? What is this, some test to see how much you can poke the Sparky before he becomes a raging lawyer hulk and starts beating people to death with the metal-clad briefcase of painful bruising?


I am now in a bad mood - I shall have to find someone to take it out on
 

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I am tired and worn from the fallout of sheer bullshit that happened last week.

 We had a case, it was long, it was complex and it was clearly going to be something that wasn’t going to get resolved for many many months. Fair enough and the customers were moderately decent people all things considered and only making it a little harder than it had to be. But they moved, to Birmingham, and since we’d only started what promised to be a long haul process all parties decided it would be better for them to find a firm in Brummie land.

 Case leaves my hands and is passed on to Arsehole the paralegal to work with said Brummie firm, to transfer various things that need transferring, get any local documents or resources or information, ensure copies are certified et al.

 And it’s out of my hands. Completely.

 In fact more than completely because we need a little history for Paralegal Arsehole here

 I’ve mentioned him in passing in the past, he’s the nephew of Senior Partner #2. We hired him because he had this very important qualification of being a relative of the boss; we certainly didn’t need another paralegal.

Read more... )

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In my job you see a lot of tragedy, you see a lot of pain. You see people at their lowest ebb, at the very worst time in their lives. It can be quite heart rending.

 And sometimes you see people who are out of their ever-loving minds and make you wish that drinking something stronger than coffee was considered professional.

 I seem to be having a pack of the latter sort, recently. Especially today which seems to have them all lined up (at least that means I don’t have to leave the office).

 

 Client #1

What do you want? No, really, because this has been our second meeting now and I still don’t have a clue. I think that, maybe, you may be heading for a divorce? Maybe? Or was that just rambling about an unhappy marriage? Wait, your son is in trouble – is that with the police? Does he need representation? C’mon throw me a bone here! Honestly, I know every tiny, minute, dreadfully boring detail of your life now, but still not why you are in my office. It’s getting creepy.

 

 Client #2

Yes, the weather today is atrocious. Yes, you’re soaked to the skin, I can see that, you’re currently dripping everywhere. And you shook out your umbrella in my office – thanks for that. And how come you’re soaked to the skin AND have an umbrella AND a waterproof coat? Did you go swimming fully clothed or something?

 I sympathise, but I’m not sure why you’re trying to make me feel guilty. I didn’t, as you so nicely put it, “drag” you here. It’s your case, if you want to leave then, by all means, the door’s over there and when you get to court and your soon-to-be-ex-wife is ripping the skin off your back to make sofa cushions you can tell the court that you didn’t get legal representation because it was raining. I'm sure everyone will be sympathetic

 

Client #3

Let us all acknowledge what a terribly scary bad boy you are. Yes yes, you’re tough and dangerous and mean and *yawn*. Whatever. With this acknowledged, can we get on with things? Because you’re hard-man act not only fails to impress me but will impress a judge considerably less. Your threatening violence against everyone, apparently at random, including the person you assure me most convincingly that you did not violently attack is not going to help your case. However, you may help me on one of my missions – it’s always been my ambition to see if I can make a judge or magistrate laugh due to some of the ridiculous things my clients make me say. I think your “not guilty” plea may do it.

  

Client #4

Normally I hate venomous divorces. There’s something very sad about two people who, we assume, at one time found each others company rather agreeable and now loathe each other beyond measure. And often there are children involved which is beyond tragic. Sometimes there is abuse and exploitation that is cringeworthy.

 And sometimes there’s no abuse, no kids, nothing to cringe over and the parties are so excessive in their loathing that you just have to reach for the popcorn and listen to all the over-top threats, dramatic declarations of war and the glorious, frothing fury that rolls over every pretence of good sense. It’s one of those cases where you will be politely reminded you need to try and get the parties to mediate even while the lawyers are physically restraining their clients from going for the eyes.

And lo, when you came into my office and began the interview by loudly explaining why your husband was Hitler, I knew we’re in for a bumpy ride. Let me get my armour, this is gonna be good

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Regularly now one of my oh-so-dearest neighbours has been leaving snide little homophobic notes on my door, ranging from Bible verses to random mutterings about AIDS, to condemnation for the many many orgies we’re not actually having (don’t you just hate it when people have more fun with your life than you do?) At the same time, we’ve had to shoe-horn our cars into The Home of All Junk (who knew garages were for cars?) since they’re picking up an awful lot of potentially-related and very annoying scratches and horrible things have happened to our plants in the front garden. Also, the Bible left in the rain and shredded by cats was vexing – we’re still finding little scraps of soggy, sanctimonious confetti.

It was unnerving to begin with, I took precautions – and several months later with it still happening, we’re playing snap with the nasty little things (they’ve started to repeat themselves. Which I think is just rude – if you’re going to leave nasty little hate notes on someone’s door, you could at least strive to be original! Reusing your old hate is just plain lazy).

There are places in my home city I know not to go at certain times. Or some not to go alone. I know where fool straight folk gather when they’ve had too much to drink, looking for a victim. I know a local park where the police will assume I’m cruising.  I know to avoid these places.

At work, I know that at least once a week, one of three people will say something offensive. I know that, at least 4 times a week, annoying secretary will flirtingly joke about “changing me” or “what a shame it is you’re gay” or some such. I know that I need to check my email religiously or have the extra, over-scheduled work dumped on me because it’s assumed I have no family and no plans. I know I have to book holidays well in advance and fight for them in case they’re moved in favour of those who “have family and partners to be accommodated”. I know that my most senior partner still doesn’t understand why I’m pissed at him for throwing cases of gay-bashers at me and why I don’t want to be in a small room alone with such people to interview them. I know that, in some family and criminal cases, he will act like I’m a woman or use my being gay as some kind of selling point.  I’ve worked out ways around these problems, things I can’t say, things I have to grit my teeth and ignore, ways I have to react and steps I have to take to avoid shouldering the firm’s grunt work.

These are just a few items on my list of things that have become normal for me. I’m not een talking microagressions like gross heteronormativity, erasure, or far too many damn people using homophobic hate speech, or even big massive things like the current marriage equality debate and everyone showing their scabby, homophobic arses over it. I’m not even talking about my annoyingly homophobic family trying to drag me back to them over the bridges they burned. I mean all the things, all the shit, every day in our lives that are specifically unacceptable yet have become normal to us. And I think every marginalised person has one of these lists – a lists of regular shit they have to endure from certain people, certain times, in certain places, they know shit will happen above and beyond the normal micro and macro aggressions. Just routine, unacceptable shit that is part of your daily life – neither the background noise of micro aggressions nor the big, unusual spikes of macro events – but routine, normal shit.

Because you get used to things. Even things you shouldn’t have to get used to. You learn to endure. You learn to tolerate. You even learn to accept. You become jaded, cynical and even numb. You learn that this is the way the world is and, ultimately, you have to live in that world.

And I think it’s another way that being marginalised affects us - the lessons we learn and the twisted sense of “normal” we internalise. Normal, for so many of us, is abuse. It’s navigating shit, it’s putting up with shit, it’s expecting shit and it’s dealing with shit all the damn time. It’s making shit normal.

Which means you shouldn’t really be surprised when you come with some story of utter repellent bigotry and, rather than shock our outrage, the marginalised group’s response is something like *shrug**sigh*. You can’t be shocked by what is normal, and being outraged by what is normal quickly becomes exhausting. And, frankly, being reminded that our “normal” is someone else’s unbelievable shit is just depressing.

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I’ve been away from the net for a few days, Friday was a pain in the arse and I decided to mellow rather than stew.

First, our not-so-friendly-neighbourhood note leaver had paid a visit (shoved the damn thing ion the hedge – great, now we’ve got to play hide and seek with the nasty little notes littering the property) to let us know what terribad sinners we were and didn’t we know there were children and families in the area.

Lovely way to start the day.

Work begins as normal on a Friday – I.e. we all get out our paperwork, shuffle it convincingly and count the hours until we can go home (it’s a Friday, after all) until we all gather for a coffee (much encouraged, we can discuss each others cases, pick each other’s brains and get new and better insights into what we’re doing from fresh angles) and one of my colleagues asked the smokers in the room if anyone of them had a fag.

You know what’s coming next, don’t you? I certainly did – I was just ion doubt as to which of 2 habitual migraine-causers would be the one to say it.

It was option B this time and she was kick to say, oh-so-hilariously “he’s over there.” “He” would be me, of course. To which there was a room wide cringing. Not, I might add, a “oh gods how could you say that?” cringe, but more a “oh gods, you’ll set Sparky off on one” cringe.

So I got up, moved away from her and picked a seat I deemed more convivial. Something she did not appreciate and proceeded to try to talk to me (to the echoing silence of the room – because there’s no one like lawyers for rubber-necking a fight). Which I slapped down. I did not want to talk to her. I still don’t. It’s not the first time I’ve asked her not to make gay jokes and not to use slurs. It’s not even the third. I’m not telling her again, I don’t want to hear her random explanations why her offensive bullshit isn’t offensive bullshit, I don’t want to hear why acceding to a very simple request and plea for humanity is so damn hard. I don’t want more empty, meaningless apologies. I am just done with her and, as far as I’m concerned , there’s absolutely no further need for either of us to speak except as required for work. Which is, basically what I told her and refused to listen to anything else. Done, end of, over.

The Senior partners had beat a hasty retreat for fear of them hearing something which may mean they’d have to DO something. Honestly, conflict averse solicitors – I’d complain if I weren’t one of them.

Then to finish off the trifecta, we have the Pointless Nepotism guy. He who has been hired because his aunt is a partner in the firm and got him a job even though we have nothing for him to do. At the time she warned me that he had been raised with “traditional values” (whatever that means) and I had to be patient with him – to which I made it clear that I didn’t think I did, not if he’d also been raised with manners and basic respect.

So despite him being a member of this firm for several months, I don’t think I’ve said more than “hello” in all that time. This suits me (even if he does tend to watch me like some kind of wildlife reporter documenting an exotic species of venomous reptile). But it seems part of the silence was worry that the people telling him (as many people apparently have) that I am gay were lying in some kind of malicious back biting office gossip bullshit.

He was very curious – and by curious I mean asked a load of questions that were none of his damn business, from the sexual to the moral, to the religious all with lots and lots of judging and nasty little digs “isn’t it just wrong?” “what about AIDS?” with a side order of religious verses and crap that the homophobes have put on the internet. Etc etc etc. Hints that these questions weren’t really his business and had nothing to do with him or how little I appreciated someone’s religious judgements being applied to my life were roundly ignored. In the end I went back to my office and actually started working (on a Friday!) just to get some peace.

And then a colleague dropped in on me all smiles about how impressed they were by Useless Nepotism Guy for asking questions and being curious rather than just, I dunno, burning me at the stake or something.

In the face of this, I went home, got drunk and decided a weekend away from the net will ensure I don’t see anything else that will give me grey hairs. Of course, now comes the reading of my RSS and finding what I missed.
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Sparky: *at work doing worky things*

Colleague: *wanders into room* aaargh can you check this for me? I lost my contacts and these glasses are giving me a headache, they're too old

Sparky: *gape*

Colleague: Yeah they're hideous, can't wait til I get new contacts.

Secretary: *enters* *gasp*

Colleague: Yeah theyr'e horrible aren't they? Can you do those files?

Sparky: Murf...

Secretary: meep.

Colleague: Thanks...

Colleague#2: enters *chokes*

Colleague: They're not that bad!

Colleague#2: wurble.

Sparky: ugh?

Secretary: meeeeeeeep.

Colleague: Fine, they're horrible, I get it *sulks off*

Sparky: When did he get hot?!

Colleague#2: Magical Glasses of Hotness. Or he's drugged the coffee.

Secretary: I'm taking the rest of the day off. Going to threaten his optician with pain and death if he dares to give him contact lenses ever again
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Dear Bosses and work colleagues

If you're going to expect me to come in on a Sunday, at no notice and generally in complete disregard of any possibility of my having a life then ahev the common decency to be on time, damn it

Especially since I'm here because of your screw ups. This is arse saving mode and it's not my arse that's imperilled nor my fool head that fucked up.

There had better be grovelling. And if I'm kept waiting much longer something better be on freaking fire.

Thank the gods for kindles, flash drives and internet connections. Except now I'm too irritated to use any of them effectively
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I've been thinking about “flaunting” again – as in “do you have to flaunt your sexuality?” and how we should be all closeted to protect ever-so-delicate Hetlandia from our presence. And it irritates me in so many ways – and one of those ways is the cost of it.

I don't just mean the emotional cost of having to hide, the repression, the shame, the self-hatred – but the actual effort of constantly running your life through a filter.

I think we all know that filter. Even though a long time ago I decided to be as out as was physically possible and refuse to hide or duck my head any more, that filter's still there and it still gets applied. I'm not brave enough or foolish enough or have nearly enough energy to do away with it completely.

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As I said on Sunday, Beloved has been away for much of the week – not away away but not around since we've been working different hours and then he had to go away for the weekend. At the same time I had to play host to my brother and cousins (who left midweek) which was somewhat exhausting and mildly irritating at times. And 5 people are missing from work for various reasons so my work load spiked, along with annoying clients and my having to battle with the bosses to ensure everyone's load spiked equally rather than my taking the lion's share, again. And then I got sick with the lurgy – either brought up by my brother from Wales, or from work – either way, stomach cramps, nausea and general badness ahoy! It should also probably be noted here that as of last week we were trying a pill adjustment.

So, that's a bad week by any standards. There was no way it was going to be a good week, and no way I was going to feel other than irritated, tired, ill and generally wanting to reduce the world to ashes. So when I started feeling down, well of course I was feeling down. I was tired, over-worked, ill, not spending enough time with Beloved, skipping meals because I'm tired/ill/don't have time/Beloved's not there to insist/replacing them with snacks or not at all, not getting enough sleep etc etc – being down was expected. So as I spiralled further and further into down-ness I clung simply to the fact that the week would soon be over and then it'd be ok. After all, I had a reason to be down, right? Being down was NORMAL. Not being down would be pretty freaking strange.

Yes, so the weekend rolls round, Beloved comes back and he keep asking me if I'm fine. Well, no I'm not but of course I'm not, right? It's been a bad week, I'm ill, I'm tired, everything is pretty shitty – so no, I'm not ok. But I'm not ok in a context where not ok is expected, right?

Except he's using his “step away from the ledge” voice... which is totally unnecessary, it's not like I'm having one of my major bleak badne- oh. Well shit, when did that happen? Rational Brain, why didn't you even notice Emotional Brain turning all the bad dials up to max?

Yes, I had tripped into the Bad Place. Didn't see it coming and missed the point when “this week is crap and I feel crap because of it.” spiralled into “everything in the world ever is bleak and dark, there is no hope or joy and we will slowly rot in ever lasting despair and anguish why do we even bother.” Or, to put it another way, I missed when the messed up brain took over. The crazy has launched a sneak attack on me and I didn't see it coming. Totally got backstabbed, guys, damn sneaky thing.

And yeah it turns out that skipping meals, while generally being a bad thing, and vomiting, also a bad thing, also seems to mean forgetting to take the pills one takes with meals and possibly bringing back up those you do take. Mea culpa, should have thought, should have known better. This is the problem with routine – you get fixed on a routine and when the routine breaks everything breaks. And not having Beloved there to say “you forgot your pill” (normally something that annoys me immensely, by the way – because damn it I can remember to take my own medication!!! Except... apparently not. Damn it memory, I was winning that argument) just lead to me plain forgetting

Of course, knowing that the deep dark bad place is a cause of the Bad Brain helps a lot, it lets Rational Brain realise that the Big Bad Darkness is not because of a bad week, but because of a Bad Brain and can be duly Ignored..

So it's pills, therapist and Beloved as we work to pull me out of this and set me back on the nice gleaming rails of (almost) sanity that I just merrily decided to skip away from. Yeah not happy – and not just because the brain has kind of decided happiness can't happen – I'm irritated that I'm having to regain ground I just lost. And, yeah, I'm irritated because I screwed up. I know better than this and this whole messed up head space I've been living in has been entirely my own fool fault

And Beloved's feeling guilty. Partially because he didn't notice how far off the rails I'd swerved until today and, I think, because he's mad at me and guilty because of it. Which is something I'm going to have to think and talk through.

So, yeah. How annoying is all that? I would say that it's time to open a bottle, but, frankly, in the Deep Dark Place it's unwise to even joke about drinking as a coping mechanism (even if, yes I've done that, Yes I do do that – it's still a foolish, unsafe, unwise and generally wrong thing to do).
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So my body and brain are sitting down and Having Words with me about this no sleep thing. As a life-long insomniac and someone who fills his days far too damn full, and a night owl by preference, I'm usually pretty good at operating without much sleep. I often potter around in a state of "damn I could use a nap".Which is kind of how I worked, I was used to it - being vaguely tired was always something that could be worked through until I could have sufficient space on a weekend to sleep myself out.

But now? Now Brain and Body are presenting bills waaaay too early. Definitely pouting and refusing to play. A couple of days of less sleep and I'm all kinds of fugly. Beloved says it's because my "normal" sleep patterns are already insufficient since I've cut back for so long - I'm starving myself after short rations. I don't know, I used to pull many an all nighter and not be this badly hit. Ugh, maybe I'm getting old

In other news, brother and my 2 cousins are lurking around still. Since they were all in disparate parts of the country I ended up being a central meeting point to discuss their upcoming holiday (cousin 1 lives in Dubai and has invited them). Brother will probably be lurking around for the rest of the week. Nice to see them all, but won't be joining them on holiday despite the many many many invites (take a hint!)



It occurs to me that except for these and the odd word with the parents, I've gone weeks with very very little contact with the Huge Extended Family of Doom. I am falling off the map. A large, very large, part of me is vaguely panicked by this, vaguely guilty by this and is demanding I contact people, remind them I'm alive, catch up on the gossip, have an argument, check the social calendar and do all the other things we're supposed to do in the family. A much smaller but very determined part of me is demanding to know why I want to do this, why I'm not content to let the rift widen and why I can't just enjoy the peace. I've compromised on an open ended "I'll do it tomorrow/next week/when I'm less busy". Procrastination works in my favour

Beloved is working bad times this fortnight. Not working more, but we've done some comparisons and we're probably going to be working at different times - meaning we'll be free at different times. Gah, I hate it when it falls this way. And he has to be away this weekend *sulks*

Work has its ups and downs. In one of those odd strings of events, many of my colleagues have had random life stuff happen that means they cannot work/have to work less/have to work less flexibly. One ironic part of this is that I dropped arsehole client, then had to deal with him 3 times more because they tried to shuffle him off on someone else in the firm. I then had to have an argument about them basically giving me BACK the client I'd dropped by having me cover the lawyer who they gave him to. After much struggles, I think the firm has now dropped him. I don't know for sure because I've adamantly refused to look at a single thing connected to his case.


While this all means more work load, it means more work load because a legitimate issue has arisen, so I resent it less than I do the "we've tasken on more cases than we can manage" or "X has screwed up/is lazy/slacking please fix it/fill in" work load burdens I usually see. Also they're much more appreciative and aware of the hours and work and miracles I'm doing, rather than treating it as natural and normal. Which is nice. Of course, a well appreciated and praised doormat is still a doormat so I am extremely ready to cry foul should I end up doing to lions' share - again.

I think I may either subconsciously trying to reward/pet/treat Beloved or possibly murder him, given the puddings I've been making. Treacle Duff will reduce your lifespan by several years, but by gods its worth it and still one of his favourites. Still, you shouldn't eat it every day... even if it is easy and quick and sooo very goooood
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So things have been thingness.

Had a wonderfully epic argument with SP about how I am dropping a client for being an arsehole. Yes, I have worked with bigoted arseholes before but a) they usually didn't apply their bigotry to me and b) it was always nerve wracking, painful and Not Fun. Yes, I hold by my ethical standard that everyone, no matter what, needs adequate representation. Yes I do. I also think that there are more than enough straight lawyers in the city to provide this, it doesn't have to be me. So drop him or I'll make him drop us, yes yes I will.

Work itself has been hectic because of people having various events that have required them to drop things and hope someone is there to catch them (I am awed at my wording here. So diplomatic! Why, I didn't call my colleagues "unreliable, flakey fools with all the time management and organisational skills of a concussed dodo" at ALL!

SP#2 laughed at me being in late on Sunday and said I virtually lived there. And she didn't even have the common sense to get a head start first?! Also, irritated by the fact that everyone's phone permanantly routes to voicemail.

Y'know, I get it - crisis happen. I've been there, we've all been there. Oh boy have we been there. And when that happens we pull together and make it happen - but I'd like to see more pulling from people who aren't me.

To the people emailing me about Lambda. Again, I've already made a post on the matter and have zero intention of adding more.

My car is making odd noises. I'm choosing to believe it is trying to sing. Behold my magical singing car. Aren't you impressed?

My fridge may be bottomless. We have successfully lived on left overs for 3 days now. I think Beloved may have installed a sims-style food replicator.

To people wrongly stuck in various moderation queues, my apologies, I've been away. To people rightly stuck in those queues - why do you keep trying? It takes me one click, one, to delete your comment and you many key strokes to splurge yours

Beloved has cleaned all through the house, this is good of him. You can also see exactly the path taken by the vaccuum cleaner, reminding me that he may be good, but he still can't clean. And honestly, it takes far more effort to dust round the crap on the shelves than it takes to move them!

Anyway, I is exhausted, running on 3 days with minimal sleep. I have an appointment today I can't miss and then I'm gone because I'm unfit to work. Hmm, sign of aging, can't do the all nighters as well as I used to. He has also tiedied without being supervised. I can find noooothing. He's supposed to be shopping today as well - I live in dread
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So today I had a fun time arguing with someone – yes a straight someone - whether “Batty Boy” is a slur and whether it's ok to call me that.

Now there's a lot we can say here, but it's very very tiresome and I am very very tired so I'll confine myself to questioning why I had to ARGUE this. Especially whether or not it's ok to call me something.

I just said it wasn't. I get to decide what I am called and what it's ok to call me especially when the world is completely and utterly a slur with minimal attempt at general reclamation and most certainly none from me.

But really – he says it, I say no, do not say that, then we have an argument? Why? Why even fight this? Why try to make me concede that it's ok to call me a slur? Why is it so hard to say “sorry, didn't realise, I won't in future”? Why was I reduced to using threats to make him drop it?

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I woke up this morning being my normal cheerful self (I didn't kill anyone, but then no-one stood between me and coffee. Beloved knows better than to do such things in the morning. Or make noise. Or smile. Or stand in an irritating fashion). I rumble through my morning routine, stumble towards my car and....

Rmpf. (Totally the noise it made) Car didn't go. Tried again, car still didn't go. Tried again. Still not moving. After staring vaguely at the steering wheel for 5 minutes it occurs to me that blank stares are not actually going to get me into work. Nor am I in time for our much-cut public transport. So there follows a time when I have to move quickly – in the morning, the morning people! - and yell at Beloved to get me to work somehow (thankfully I didn't have ridiculously early appointments booked). Equally thankfully, Beloved doesn't start work as early as I do and knows better than to complain in the mornings when I'm looking for an excuse to kill maim burn.

Work went as generally expected until I get an email before I have to leave – yes another “hey we need someone to be on call tonight – thanks so much!” email. This doesn't really work if you don't have a car – not unless you have some ability to go anywhere in the city you may be needed (police stations mainly but not entirely especially not with our policies).

So begins the frenzied calling of email sender to make it clear, no I can't do this. Answer machine. Oh yeah, the whole “let's be unavailable so we can dump work on Sparky and he can't argue it” tactic. I leave a gazillion messages, each steadily more furious before running round the other partners who are similarly unavailable. I end up spending half the night trying to raise SOME contact from the damn powers that be. Thankfully Beloved came home so I only had to refuse one call before being able to use his car.

When I finally raise someone I actually get complained at for not telling them. Oh, I invented new curse words, I did. And then them saying “oh you used Beloved's car, that's fine then.” Beloved needed that car, he has his own late meetings, his own work – and, yes, his own life that he may not have wanted to erase to fit in with the last minute non-planning of my firm.

And, of course I had no time to actually try to arrange for my car to be fixed.

I am Vexed.

So, work

May. 24th, 2011 11:47 pm
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We're getting a new person at work. I'd give them a job title but I'm not sure they have one

I think the title is "related to one of the partners, just left law school, can't find a position so is we get them."

So the last couple of weeks where they've been talking about a staff change and help and how everything we (well, especially me, but then I have more TO complain about) have complained about has been delayed with a "we're adjusting some staff policy soon" (which i thought at the time was bemusing because I didn't see it fixing anything unless it was forcing other people to take night work) has been... well a fob us off delaying tactic

Of course, the relief people feel about something as ominously foretold being so minor means no-one will complain about the make-work employee


Which means, of course, I need to start complaining again. Ah well, at least I have lots of practice

It occurs to me I am hostile to any thought of change. I'd consider that irrational and silly - except "change" usually means "this is gonna hurt" so I will call it "cynical awareness of reality and the people around me"
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I’ve been a little less active than usual lately. This is not because of disaster!

And how novel is that? I mean, no disaster? (well except the ongoing bosses are arseholes and someone hit me and so much in the world sucks disaster, but that’s more background noise than disaster) :)

No I just have a little more work to do at the moment than anticipated. it’s not in a “I’m working every second of the day and will collapse” work load just generaly a bit heavy causing me to rescale. I predict it will be over in a week

So what’s happening and what’d I miss?

sparkindarkness: (STD)

So, charges are being prssed, client has been dropped. Senior Partners are in agreement with both…

They’re not exactly happy about charges being pressed, and I’m not entirely happy with them for not being entirely happy. But they condeded and have made no effort to talk me out of it. So points I guess.

They did talk about farming out the client to another lawyer in the firm or maybe that they ’should’ have sent a different lawyer (the words “less objectionable associate” were used but no-one seemed willing to explain what THAT meant no matter how I pressed) but that was dropped quickly when I gave them my best wtf?! look (we’ve had a violent client before and they’re DROPPED period) beside, I don’t think anyone in the firm would take it because, y’know, he hit his last lawyer (moi). Besides, it’s ethically dubious

Senior Partner 3 made a comment that sounded a lot like “I told you you should have hidden that picture” but backpeddled, repented and whimpered before I could explode into big messy chunks of pure rage. I’m reserving this as an option for later

Then everyone went uber supportive, said how out of line it was, how wrong it wass, that we’ll take him to the cleaners, rip him apart and make sure he whimpers and cries every time he sees a law firm. I have the full support and wrath of the firm and if I need time to hide my dark purple face they totally understand and will personally look after my cases until I’m ready and happy

Which is great, it means it ended perfectly and fantasticly… but the road to get there was a tad windy.

sparkindarkness: (STD)

Follow ups didn’t work as well as they might.  I mean it got to roughly where I want it to be but it was a hell of a lot more fily effort than it should have been Senior partners, I am disappointed I really am. You need to do better than this shit, you really do. It should not have taken this much arguing for you to get a clue.

I suppose it’s something that you did get a clue. And apologise after you said Shit I’m Going to Pretend you Didn’t. Maybe there’s hope. Now, hold on to theose clues and I won’t feel the need to reach for the cluebat again

Also, bruises hurt the second day. The whole right side of my face is fugly

I’m going to put today back in the box and demand a replacement

sparkindarkness: (STD)

I am very glad that the senior partners decided to step back from their sudden obsessive need to modernise the office. I’m glad they decided to throw out all that glass and chrome (ewww) and pale, ikea-esque furniture and the interior-designer carpet and the abstract modern prints on the beige and cream and magnolia walls.
I am very glad you realised, in time, that the old oak furniture and wood panneling and wooden furniture and high vaulted ceilings and glorious victoriana added tone and gravitas and weight to the office. I’m glad you finally came to your senses.

However, while I love the traditional feel of the building, I would appreciate it if the heating system were not actuall Victorian. Because those beautiful windows are as effective as soggy tracing paper at holding in the heat and those vaulted ceilings hold a whole lot of cold – and the boiler, oh the boiler. How many times has it broken down this winter? Here’s a hint, if the water in the boiler freezes then it is not, actually boiling.

And yes it was neccessary to kneel outside your door with coal-dust smudged faces (well, graphite anyway) and wolly scarfs asking Scrooge if we could have another lump of coal for the fire.

sparkindarkness: (STD)

Yes yes, we’re all very impressed by your work ethic. Here you are, dying of advanced Tapir flu and still you came into our office to see my colleague.

No, no contagious disease is going to stop you. We are in awe that, even while clearly dying horribly and messily (and oozily) you still managed to soldier on. Yes, you brave soul, fight on.

Yes, we marvelled as you coughed onto every flat surface, sneezed in our faces , ensured every flat surface was covered with a liberal coating of your phlegm and then waved your hanky around to ensure an even spread of germs (you only used that damn thing occasionally – but what was with the shaking? It was like you were shaking out a duster. Why do this? Why why?)

I suppose we should thank you, because no doubt you have now given us all the opportunity to prove our dedicated fortitude as well. Right during our busy period. Thanks for that

You’re just lucky you didn’t encounter Most-Senior-Partner, who has been known to have contagious employees bodily removed from the premises. He is not amused by germ spreading badness

And you know what’s worse? Some people are forced to work when sick because of arsehole bosses, people who take the piss and exploit and general necessity. I know my dad’s job has a ridiculous policy where they have a common bonus as part of their weekly wage but they lose it for 5 days if they take a day off sick. Yeah, never mind he’s had 3 sick days in 35 years working for them, no discretion, he loses it.

But you? No. You’re high level, we know you have a flexible work schedule and a decent boss and decent conditions – we wrote your employment contract and know your boss and work place. We also know this isn’t urgent because Colleague ranted at length after you left and tried to disinfect her office (she is Not Amused). You weren’t forced to take your germs on holiday, but chose to do so.

sparkindarkness: (STD)

Rather completely from twitter, email and LJ et al. Put this down to Point 6 on the Sparky self-destruction cycle. Not exactly surprisingly, Spirit Day, while wonderful and heartening, wasn’t something I could deal with and after turning my twit-pic purple and taking one look at my twitter feed my brain went *schlup* and I stepped away from the computer. I stepped back, schlupped again and crawled away and into a big friendly bottle (mental note: Alcohol response to Triggers? BAD bad bad habit, must be stopping that. That’s certainly borrowing problems for the future)

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April 2015

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