Saturday, March 31, 2007

It's Good to Know One's Limits

The last day was a mix of happiness, wonder and dread. I wore the Outfit of Spite all day, along with a shit-eating grin for most of the day. By the end of the day, I ran out the door as fast as I could hoping no one would see me and wish me well or say they'd miss me or anything like that.

Outfit Of Spite
Let me take you back a spell, to ~ May 11, 2006. It is a Friday (or should be if my math is correct -- I'm not working from a calendar), CASUAL Friday, in fact. It is my one-month-a-versary with the firm. Snotty Partner has already, and inexplicably, begun shunning me, the Quinnipiac Mafia continues to observe radio silence. I am wearing linen pants, a big, untucked polo shirt, and clogs. My outfit, albeit casual, is in line with the majority of outfits on my floor.

Late in the day, Office Manager ("I am not an office manager! I am a Director of Human Resources!" ) comes into my office and informs me that someone brought my outfit to her attention and that I am not dressed appropriately for an associate. I am, in fact, dressed like support staff (gasp!). She directs me to dressed like one member of the Quinnipiac Mafia (who, it should be noted, has no kids, no mortgage, and wears size 2 when she's bloated), because I am not to dress like support staff. I'm mortified and so I wear suits every Friday until I truly no longer cared, and started wearing khakis. (FWIW, I suspected that Snotty Partner was the source of the complaint. This was never confirmed.)

I wore the offending outfit on my last day. I didn't run into Snotty Partner, so I couldn't gauge his reaction. But I saw the Office Manager (IANAOM! IAADOHR!). She took a gander and her voice halted for a moment. She pretended not to notice, but she knew. Hell! I was barefoot and moving boxes when she came into my office -- how could she not notice?

I direct all to the entirety of chapter 8 of The Curmudgeon's Guide to Practicing Law, entitled Dress for Success . "I don't give a damn what you wear. Just make sure the brief is good."

Shit-Eating Grin
When you really have no like of your co-workers and bosses, and they've been kind of obnoxious to you anyway, and you have no "good times" to hearken back to, and you are leaving, how do you graciously say goodbye without saying, "See ya', suckers!" I struggled with what to write in my farewell email for weeks because I refused to write anything untrue like, "I will miss you", or "I really enjoyed working here". Once you take the sentiment out, there's only about two sentences you can write before it reads like, "See ya', suckers!"

Anyway, because of this, I tried to avoid engaging in any farewell discussions with anyone other than the 3-4 people I will miss (none of whom are associates in my department).

Dread
Around 3:30, the head of my department asked me if I wanted to join her for a drink after work. I hadn't planned on staying the whole day, and the Hubbins had karate, but I thought it mightn't be a bad idea. I have a great deal of respect for her and I like her. Since the Performance Eval from Hell, she and I had many constructive discussions about my experience with the firm and my future, and I see her as an important professional contact. Why not have a drink with her and cement the relationship? I told her I'd check the evening plans and get back to her.

Not ten minutes later, one of my friends came by and told me that Back-Stabbing Senior ASSociate asked her if BSSA should ask me out for drinks and that if I'm interested, BSSA will round up people. Uh, what?

I freaked. BSSA obligatorily "rounding up" "people" for obligatory drinks with the chick who's leaving? Nevermind that she would have to "round up" "people" to wish me well because there were few voluntary takers, I could not imagine anything more uncomfortable than being stuck in a bar with the smiling faces of people who treated me like a turd for the past year, all wishing me luck and congratulating themselves for being so congenial and collegial, seeing off one of their own. Plus, I only had about $3 on me, I'm not sure I could depend on that crowd to buy.

A drink or two with a partner or two who know the score and have no illusions about my experience (and who would most certainly buy) - yes. A drink or two with a bunch of jerks who want absolution for treating me like an interloper for the last year - NFW!

The second offer caused the walls of my barren office to close in. I made some unavailable noise to the partner and ran for the exit.

I kept the happy face on for a year, the last 4 months of which has been particularly difficult. But I had reached my limit -- I couldn't keep it on for one minute longer.

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Thursday, March 29, 2007

Last Day At The Firm

It's a great big beautiful wonderful incredible super spectacular day, when your heart is hummin', good times comin', and you got that happy feelin' things are going your way. All the bells ar ringin' and a little bird's singin' while he sits on your windowsill. Singin', "Yessiree, I can surely see, it will plainly be, most definitely, a super spectacular day."

A gold star to anyone who knows the source of the above song lyric.

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Monday, March 26, 2007

DeBeers'd by the Teeny Bopper Cartel

Thing 2 is in a tizzy. Her business model was killed by a glut of teeny bopper pix on the market.

Someone had the same magazine and was giving away the pictures.

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Enterprising Behavior

Thing 2 has an abiding interest in teeny bopper magazines that I've always found rather curious. It is out of character for her because, well, she's not a teeny bopper. She's more of an anti-teeny bopper. She was born jaded, baby, she never seems to have harbored any fantasies about Zach or Zac or Cody or Corbin or . . . . Her interest has always struck me as more anthropological ("Hmm. These teeny boppers have an interesting society, with its own rules, values, mode of dress and mores. I must study their sacred texts so that I may learn something about myself in the process.") Or, at the very least, I perceived her interest as a way of developing insight into busting Thing 1's chops, whose teeny bopper tendencies are slightly more apparent.
In any event, I have dutifully purchased these slick mags of totally fun fax about teeny bopper-dom's fave non-threatening hunkaramas because it makes Thing 2 happy. Only yesterday did I learn the true reason the mags make her soo happy -- Cashy Money.


I was in a book store with The Girls yesterday and, as usual, Thing 2 was poring over the teeny bopper magazines and, as usual, taking forever to make a decision as to what teeny bopper mag she wanted me to purchase. Finally, I demanded that she make a decision because I'm checking out. She announces that she has to see which ones have the best posters because she can get $1.00 each for the "good ones". Single page pix are $.25 and entry forms for stupid "win a kiss from [random non-threatening teeny bopper male]" command $1.00.

Right on, Thing 2!

She's concerned that her business may suffer a blip due to the recent increase of in-school snack from $.75 to $1.00. It was no problem convincing her customers to part with the $.25 change from snack, but if they only get $1.00 from their parents for snack, her customers have to make the hard choice between teeny bopper heaven and snack. And she's even cautious about WHO she sells to -- it has to be someone from her class because there are "snitches" in the other two fourth grade classes.

I tried to negotiate a return of my capital investment in her venture and she cut me down. But if she ever moves onto more, how shall we say, profitable commodities, I am going to insist upon it.

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Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Lawyers Who Lunch

Through no design on my part, I had to sit near Snotty Partner at lunch today. There were several presenters, so no time for chirping, but it was fun anyway. What a sullen little human!

I'd like to think my presence played a part in his sullenness, but he's probably just a miserable bastard all on his own.

c'est ça.

Resignation and Secret Societies

Resignation
My resignation did not go as well as I expected -- they accepted it with grace and proceeded to reassign all of my cases to other lawyers. No begging, pleading, or mea culpa-ing. No denial, anger, bargaining or depression. Just acceptance.

I've run into Snotty Partner 2-3 times since I resigned (once literally -- the doors to the women's and men's rooms are at a 90-degree angle to each other, and with the right timing. . .). The little turd can't even look me in the eye.

I decided to sit at his table at the Holiday Party, not because I had any designs on buttering him up or getting friendly with the youngist partners, but only to force him to acknowledge me in a social setting. (Get a few drinks in me and I can be a complete wench.) I had a terrible time because I wasn't sitting among friends, but it was worth his discomfort. tee hee. Hubbins (aka master of human condition) told me it was a great move because it permitted his peers to see his weakness.

I bring this up because I wonder if I shouldn't have some fun in the next week. Today is the litigation department lunch, and he is scheduled to speak. I wonder if I should show up on the late side (so he's already seated) and snag a chair near him. HAH! I'll chirp happily about my new job to all who surround me and he'll be sullen, trying to ignore my presence. And everyone who knows what utter crap he wrote in my performance evaluation will see the contrast.

Re: performance evaluation -- did you know that I wear slip-ons, not because women's dress shoes generally do not tie, but because I cannot tie shoes. Sad but true -- just ask Snotty Partner (who attended an, ahem, unranked Tier 4 law school.* Just sayin.).

Officially, my last day is 3/29, but if I get the files out of my office sooner, I'll leave sooner.

Secret Societies (PG-13 version)
I was initiated into a secret society last night. It was all very exciting, what with my being married to a member of many secret societies. (Finally, I know something about which I can deny knowledge.) Before the initiation, Hubbins and I joked about my having to chug naked while getting my butt paddled by hooded figures.

Soooo, after the initiation, I called Hubbins to say I was on my way home. The first thing out of his mouth:

"So, did you [gain knowledge in the biblical sense] a sheep?"
"But of course, dear, I wouldn't have joined otherwise. Actually, the sheep [gained knowledge in the biblical sense] me, darling, it is a women's group."

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* Many fine, talented, successful lawyers (and I include Snotty Partner among them) attended unranked Tier 4 law schools. However, I find that many insecure lawyers who attended unranked Tier 4 law schools feel the need to prove that law school rank doesn't matter. And by doing so, demonstrate that it does. At least to them.

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Monday, March 19, 2007

FROM THE MIND OF THING 2!!!!!!!
By Thing 2

I can't stand it Ciara is always giving me Demerits about Grammar (so is mommy!). She is also deleting my work. Mommy is talking about so called "PIG LIZARDS" Now they are reading over my shoulder
great now Katie is sceaming about jammies
THE END (for now)

Friday, March 16, 2007

I LOVE it when a plan comes together

Today is the day I resign from The Firm. I eagerly await the wailing and gnashing of teeth from my soon-to-be-former bosses. I've been practicing my sweet smile for hours. I can hardly contain my joy.

I reread an old post from a year ago, just before I started work with The Firm. It read:

And what if I don't make any friends? What if they hate me? What if no one has a sense of humor there and I have nothing to do all day but bill hours and plot the violent overthrow of the copy room staff.

Yes, yes and YES!!! Such prescience. I shoulda known from Day 1, when I saw the pitiful office coffee, that this would never work out. I shoulda run screaming on Day 3, when I was totally snubbed at lunch by my "team members". Or Day 10, when I was totally snubbed by a senior "team member" over the team "Administrative Professionals Day" gift. By day 15 said senior "team member" stabbed me in the back, from which I never recovered.

Still, I persevered. I had just completed an arduous job search and had no interest in starting a new one. And what would I say on an interview? "I'm looking for a new opportunity 3 weeks into my tenure because the folks at Highly Respected Firm aren't any fun. They suck, to be perfectly honest. I think they are intimidated by my Elite Law School Degree. The Quinnipiac Mafia is, anyway." Right. The rejection letter would be handed to me on the way out AND my parking would not be validated.

But, all is not lost. Thanks to Senior Team Member's treachery and its effects on Snotty Partner, I started a job search in January (when I could credibly say at an interview, "I gave it about a year, but Highly Respected Firm just isn't a good fit for me. The people are great, the work is great, blah blah blah, but it just isn't right for me.").

Yesterday, I accepted an offer with a firm I interviewed with last time around. (They really liked me, but it was a brand new office and they needed someone much more senior at first.) They were the first firm I asked about when I started my job search and they made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

LOTS more money. LOTS more opportunity to make partner and/or counsel and make lots more money (Thing 1's back braces aren't exactly cheap, ya know). The partners have MUCH LESS easily bruised egos and, in fact, actively foster an ESPRIT DU CORPS. No Secret Set of Office Rules that can only be gleaned from either being born unto the manor (uh, not me), or spending all day yacking in other people's offices to draw the Secret Set of Office Rules out of them (no can do. I got a life outside the office). In fact, the ONLY office rule: the flat screen TV in the conference room is ONLY to be turned on after 7:00 p.m., on baseball opening day, during any Mets game, during playoffs, and during any NCAA basketball game. (I suspect more exceptions can be added for just cause). ZERO personal injury defense. The PRESTIGE of working for a national firm. And, I'm the senior associate who gets to boss the juniors around. Hah!

I am already drunk with power.

I shall call them. . . The Firm.

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Saturday, March 10, 2007

Even the best laid plans. . .

Ever since I decided I needed to leave my current job, I had been developing a plan to have my bosses beg me to stay whilst offering to lavish me with raises, bonuses and scantily clad man-servants. To which I will smile sweetly and say, "I wish I could. But some things, once said, simply cannot be taken back."

Everthing was going according to plan: I had made myself indispensible on a major case that is likely to be tried late this year; ingratiated myself to key players; and I've taken an active role in training newer associates.

But then Thursday came, and a client on one of my files decided to "assign alternate counsel" because of (ostensibly) my inaction. Now, in my defense, I handled things absolutely correctly, diligently, proactively, etc etc, and the client, in "blaming" me, demonstrated her complete lack of knowledge of civil procedure.

I couldn't exactly school her because she's the client. ("Mira! Damn, lady! I can't enter an appearance until I know who I'm appearing for.") All concerned on my end agree that I did nothing wrong, and they've assured me that when they speak to the client next week, after the dust has settled, they will tell her as much.

But how will they beg me to stay when the clients act irrationally around me. Will my resignation make their hearts drop, or bring about a sigh of relief?

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Friday, March 02, 2007

BABY GIRL'S FIRST FO!!

Momma's so proud; her Thing 1 done good.

How many years has Thing 1 feigned interest in knitting? How many times have I cast on for her? Excitedly purchased far-too-expensive yarn for her because she said it felt nice and she wanted to make [random project] with it? (Tell me, what 11 yo needs Merino?) Cried bitter tears when finding aforementioned far-too-expensive yarn wadded up in a corner of her bedroom? I'd swear never again, but then she'd look at me with those baby blues . . .

Here is Thing 1 doing her thang at the 2004 Knit Out in Union Square Park in NYC. (Bunny ears courtesy of Thing 2.) They conned me out of fresh, new needles and premier yarn from Knit NY that day. The thing she's knitting above? I found it, sans needles, barely any longer than in the picture, during my stash inventory of 2 weeks ago.

And there were so many others. Why just this past fall, we took an "adventure day" in Washington Square Park, when Thing 1 exclaimed, "I feel like knitting. Is there a yarn store near here?" Why, yes there is, my darling, let us away to Gotta Knit . . .
As you can imagine, I was but guardedly optimistic when Thing 1 declared that she wanted to make a Knitted Babe of sorts for her friend's birthday. I finally got around to knitting the Babes I promised some months (years?) back (I'll post photos eventually). Thing 1 devised a smaller babe, and I adjusted the pattern for her. VOILA! She doesn't know how to purl, and her stitches are twisted, but I'm just about bawling here. Ain't she a beaut? Momma is soooooo proud. And baby knows she can con me out of freaking qiviut* about now.
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* Qiviut is spun from the downy-soft underwool from the Arctic musk ox. For ~$80 you can buy enough qiviut to knit a small hat. That may sound excessive, but you try combing the underwool of an Arctic musk ox. . . Didn't think so.

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