How to locate a Girl Scout from quite a way away

You are a practitioner of medical-related therapeutic arts, and come upon a non-responsive human who is cold to the touch. Do you:

A) Call 911?
B) Call 911 and direct the housekeeper to go outside so she can show the ambulance guys the way in?
C) Call 911, direct the housekeeper, then look listen and feel for a signs of breathing or a pulse, and begin rescue breathing/CPR if necessary?
D) Call Mary-Kate Olsen?

If you answered "D" then you not a Girl Scout. You are a moron.

My Qi Hurts

So many things rocking the foundation of my weltanschuung...Heath Ledger, flavored decaf coffees, co-worker diagnosed with breast cancer...Hard to put it all in perspective.

A few hours ago, a law student intern (i.e., young'un) said to me, in response to a comment about Richard Crenna, "What's 'First Blood'?" and "'Richard Crenna' was the name of a character in 'Rambo'?" Ford help me. She also thought that the Terminators' job was to help humankind.

Good thing we're starting the acculturization of our kids early. I'd gag myself with a spoon if any of my children get through college so ignorant of The Greatest Decade EverTM.*

Now, I'm revising a second-year's first attempt at drafting discovery requests. In her zeal and apparent failure to READ , which is something she failed to do yesterday and I called her out on it to The Man (as I've been instructed to do), and she got all upset and on my case because she felt that I was undermining her relationship with The Man, blah blah blah.

Bleah. Lost the sentence. Anyway.

Anyway. I just read through 10 pages of instructions and definitions that are repetitive and include the term "sic", which demonstrates that she just cut and paste and didn't pay any mind to the fact that whatever she cut and paste had grammatical or syntactical errors in it (which I, of course, got to savor).

I had to walk away from my desk when I started reading the requests themselves, which appear to be the equivalent of "If you wronged our guy big time, check this box".

I'm trying desperately to appreciate that I was new at this once, too. It is too easy, once you know something, to forget that you once did not know it. But I really really don't think I was ever this green. I've definitely had my share of poor editing jobs, but not to the point where several pages of crap can be cut because it's repetitive.

And I am SURE that my requests showed a slightly deeper appreciation for both the nuances of the case and what one can reasonably expect opposing counsel respond to.

Enough whining. I've got to figure out a way to send this back to her with my comments, in such a manner that it may actually come back to me in better form.
______________________
* Screw you baby-boomers. Especially Tom Brokaw. Generation X rocks. I'm a child of The Greatest Decade EverTM, and me and my stupid old hairdo are DAMN proud of it.

At the Crossroads of Culture and Politics

The Hubbins and I take the acculturation of the kiddies very seriously. Accordingly, we rented The Terminator and Predator this weekend, to augment their ongoing pop culture education.

Plus, with their having experienced Alien and Aliens in the last month, we felt it was important for them to understand the genesis of the Predator, such that they may thoroughly appreciate the Alien vs. Predator paradigm both for its own sake, and as a further example of the anti-archetypal bad vs. bad, dark vs. dark, yang-yang.

Not surprisingly, the girls were resisted spending their entire Sunday evening getting cultured up. But, like that trip to the opera and the philharmonic, the Hubbins and I know that exposure to these works will make them more rounded and accomplished humans.

First, we watched The Terminator. The girls were incredulous that the actor on the screen is now the Governor of California. When the Hubbins announced that the girls should watch closely to get a look Arnold's butt, Thing 2 asked, "Why would I want to see a governor's butt?" I explained that it is either Arnold's butt or Jodi Rell's butt, and she should choose wisely.

Around the time The Terminator drove a pick-up into the police precinct, Thing 1 exclaimed, "So THAT'S where all those things you say come from!" Yes, dear Thing 1. THAT is why this cultural education is so important. Without understanding the genesis of phrases like, "I'll be back," and "Fuck you, asshole," how can you say them?

Then, we watched Predator. Here, I explained that not only the future Governor of California is featured, but the future Governor of Minnesota.

Thing 2 was seized by inspiration. She never knew that acting could be a springboard to politics. What if, she said, we got a former actor to RUN FOR PRESIDENT???

But we have, my dear. We have. [Further incredulity ensued.]

Oh! I dropped my monkey!

Since the dust has settled with Thing 1's scoliosis diagnosis and she's adjusted nicely to wearing her night brace, we've decided to add chiropractic care as an adjunct to the good ole AMA. We figure, if our ultimate goal is to keep her curvature under 30 degrees, and the bracing seems to be doing a decent job of stabilizing the curvature, chiropractic care is the chicken soup of treatment modalities -- it couldn't hurt.

The Hubbins and I have seen Dr. Cutie Pie on and off for the last 10 years, but this was Thing 1's first visit. She stood next to me and leaned over my shoulder as I filled our her medical history. It went a little something like this:

"Kidney problems? No. Female problems[yes this was an actual category]? Yes, my Mom is a female problem. Heart attack? No. Dizziness? Hmm. Ciara, you are awfully dizzy."

"It's DITzy, Momma."

heh heh heh.

The appointment went well. Thing 1 LOVED having her back rubbed and is looking forward to her next visit.

Today's post is named for something Thing 2 randomly exclaimed before diving under the table at Chili's yesterday.

I realized that I never blogged about my performance evaluation. The short story is: I suck but there is hope; I repeatedly heard about a conference room I forgot to book 2 weeks ago (bite me, I'm a lawyer and if you want me to book conference rooms either get me a secretary who doesn't need emailed instructions for everything OR give me rights to book the conference room); and a crappy raise (same complaint as everyone else). The real story will happen when I get in to see the boss to discuss the crappy raise further.

I wimped out at the performance evaluation mostly because I would prefer being eaten alive by fire ants (and because I was outnumbered 3 to 1 and not comfortable talking turkey with an "of counsel", who is disgruntled about not being a "partner", in the room). But I've had time to get my story together. I do not believe that anything I say will change anything now, but I'm setting the stage to make sure there is $$ parity if a group comes over from another firm in the next year (plans are in the works for 1Q).

Some interesting business travel plans in the next 3 months. I've got a trip to Phoenix and LA in February (and a planned pre-trip to Joe & Pat's new digs), and possibly a trip to Dallas in the next 6 weeks (I'll try to impose on the Texas Codds while I'm there). Woo hoo. Be a lawyer. See the world.

Your Esteemed Jurist Dollars at Work

I was on vacay from Christmas Eve until New Year's Day and finally had the opportunity to catch up on the pile of "interesting reading" lying around my office. A "must read" from June 25, 2007: the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in Morse v. Frederick, 551 U.S. ___ (2007). The "Bong Hits for Jesus" case , for the uncongnoscenti among us.

I read the majority opinion when it came out and, while I still think it is a heap o' shit, I cannot argue with the analysis. Basically, because the student was making a goofy -- as opposed to political -- statement, if you accept the premise that the banner promoted drug use in a school setting (a stretch, but work with me here), then you have to conclude, as the majority does, that the speech is not protected. (I'm waiting patiently for Bong Hits II to hit the courts -- where a student displays "Bong Hits for Jesus" for the purpose of protesting the Supreme Court's decision and/or demonstrating a support for free speech rights in school. As a political statement, any attempt to curtail the speech would come under "strict scrutiny". And I've threatened Thing 2 that if she swipes my Bong Hits for Jesus shirt and wears it to school, she will suffer great pain and furious vengence...)

Anyway, that's not what this entry is about. This entry is about the concurring opinion of Justice Thomas. For the non-lawyers/Article III junkies among us, Justice Thomas believes that the United States should have been freeze-dried in 1789. He's what they call a "strict constructionist", and believes that if it ain't specifically written in the Constitution or expressly contemplated by the time-traveling drafters of the Constitution, then it ain't the law of the land.

And to prove his devotion to strict constructionism, on the first Tuesday after the first Monday of each November, he casts only 3/5 of a vote.

Justice Thomas concurs with the majority of Morse, but would have decided the case based on the state of the art in the 19th century. He writes:

"Although bongs and, by extension, bong hits, are commonplace in public education in the 21st century, at the time the States ratified the Fourteenth Amendment, bongs were decidedly absent. Opiates like cocaine were stored in powder form and dissolved into soft drinks, see From "The Hit that Saves the Day" to "High Sign of Friendship": Coke is It!, 34 Interdiction J. 553 (1993), and the odd sailor smoked opium he brought back from the Orient, see The Idiot's Guide to Buccaneering, (Idiot's Press 1998), but bongs are a 20th century animal, I Could Not Get Laid at Yale Law School, Thomas, Clarence (HarperCollins 2007), and, accordingly, enjoy no protection under the U.S. Constitution.

"In short, in the earliest public schools, teachers taught and students listened. Teachers commanded, and students obeyed. Students were not cutting gym and taking hits off bongs behind the portables, near the train tracks or at Willowbrook. In this historical framework, it is the role of the state legislatures, and not the federal courts, to determine whether high school students can advocate for Jesus to take for himself, or receive as offering, bong hits."

Truer words have never been written.

Ratting Out a Co-Worker

Several months back, when I was a new associate at Le Firm, a became friendly with one of the assistants (a no-no, I know, but ich binned ein secretary, and she was sooooo willing to part with the 411 that I couldn't resist). She was a class-A kvetcher, but I considered it to be, on balance, worth the info I would hear. She would frequently complain about one of her charges. I would remind her that the charge was a young, new attorney who may not know how to treat a secretary. But that, more importantly, she was a cost center and should understand that money talks, baby.

So, early in the summer, she asks me for the name of a labor lawyer. I ask her whether she needs a "labor lawyer" or an "employment lawyer" and explain the difference between the two. I also tell her that I practice employment law and she specifies that she needs someone outside the firm. UGH. On the spot. I give her a name and try to get her out of my office as quickly as possible before I hear something I do not want to hear.

I also call my consiglieri (aka Bernie) to talk out whether I had just breached my fiduciary duty to my employer and whether I need to run this up the flagpole. We conclude that all I could report is that a co-worker asked me for a lawyer's name and I would sound like a crazy alarmist self-involved dramatic psycho-person if I brought that info to a higher level. We also conclude that I gots to break social ties with the secretary. Which I do.

Months pass. I forget all about this discussion.

Then, out of the blue, she comes into my office last week to thank me for "referring" her to <>. That they met and she is good.

Who?

Then she reminds me that <> is The Lawyer whose name I gave her months ago. OK, get out of my office now. No more talking.

So this, this I have to report. This is no longer paranoid psychotic inner voice, which I need to hide from employer (Kill! Kill! Kill!), this is "disgruntled co-worker is consulting with counsel".

Thanks. I need this. Thanks for putting me in this position. I truly appreciated having to explain to my boss why I gave disgruntled coworker the name of a kick-ass plaintiff-side employment attorney. Luckily, my boss was cool. Not so concerned about what I said 6 months ago, but rather whether this is something he needs to send up the line.

This is not to say that I won't hear about my alarming lack of judgment at my performance evaluation on Monday. And we all know how much I love performance evaluations.

I may just make a list of my myriad shortcomings to see how many are mentioned in my review. (Wears too much black which washes out face, straightens out paper clips for fun, curses aloud and yells at computer screen with frequency).

Reality check: I don't believe I am the best lawyer in existence, but I'm not the worst either. In my experience, performance evaluations tend to be opportunities for pointing out everything you have ever done wrong -- not limited to the review period. Also, lawyers like to do group performance evaluations, so the associate is outnumbered at all times. After 20 minutes of hearing why you suck, it is hard to make the case for a mo' money. ("Yes I did have to sleep with the Dean of Admissions, but compared to what associates at NYC firms are making. . .")

Argh. Back to Work.

Bad blogger! No cookie!

OK, so I've just spent 3 months billing 200+ hours in the job, and after some serious guilt being laid on me by my big sis, I solemnly resolve to blog more often.

But not today.