My Life, As Told Between (Baby Cakes') Naps

I have an armchair in my office which I love.  Occasionally, it beckons to me in the middle of the day to curl up and take a (very short) nap.  Today was one of those days. 

The MP has a tendency to open closed doors without knocking.  What followed was a slightly mortifying exchange on my part and probably (hopefully!) a humorous one on his:

MP:  (*shouting to secretary outside my office*)  Oh, she’s napping!

Me:   (*yawning*)  Hi!

MP:  I just wanted to say I’m glad you made it to the game yesterday.

[Idle chit chat.]

MP:  Well, I’ll let you get back to your nap.  Sorry.

Me:  It’s okay.  I’m awake now.

I experienced a moment of panic this morning when I walked into the office and was told, “The Managing Partner is looking for you.”  Those of you who don’t work in law firms may not understand the fear those words instill.  In most law firms, the MP is given almost god-like status, he (and yes, it’s always a “he”) is to be worshipped from afar and spoken about reverently.  Comfortably perched atop the firm hierarchy, MP’s do not generally deign to talk to lowly first years.  (The MP at my office is actually very nice and approachable, but he’s still the MP.) 

Naturally, my first reaction was, “Whatever it was, it wasn’t me!”  My second reaction?  “Run!”  Alas, once I realized (a) how impractical it would be to run in my heels and (b) how uncomfortable it was hiding under my desk, I bit the bullet and called the MP.  It turns out he wanted to invite me to a WNBA game tonight because he had a couple of extra tickets.  Following the generally accepted rule that I, as the lowliest of minions, must say “yes” to any request made by virtually anyone else in the office, I immediately said “yes.” 

As it turns out, I am the only one who abides by this rule.  I ended up at the game with the MP, his wife, and his two kids.  Suprisingly, the whole thing turned out to be fun rather than horrifyingly awkward.  His family was super nice and  they knew everyone at the game (they’ve had courtside seats for as long as the LA Spurs have been playing).  Plus, I got free food and alcohol and didn’t get hit in the face with a basketball (always a plus).  At the end of the game, Lisa Leslie of the Spurs came and thanked us (well, them) for making the game.  And she gave me a hug.  She is awesome.  When I grow up to be a famous female basketball player, I’m going to be just like her.   

My litigation team is swamped.  I haven’t come up for air in the last couple of weeks, and I have the least to do out of all of us.  We’re losing a mid-level associate this week to a too-good-to-pass-up job opportunity and lost the other first year a month ago to the transactional folks in our office.  As a result, I’m doing the work of two first years while simultaneously being groomed to take on mid-level responsibilities.  In one of my many conversations with JP, the junior partner, in which he’s telling me everything I did wrong on the latest assignment (believe it or not, these sessions are actually super-helpful, although a crushing blow to my ego), he mentioned the team was counting on me to learn quickly and to absorb all this information like a sponge.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him my memory is more like swiss cheese.  Besides, I imagine he’ll find out on his own soon enough.    

Funny moment I almost forgot to mention:  In the course of discussing how overwhelmed we all were, I told JP that I couldn’t wait for the new second year associate to start.  JP’s response?  “Why?  She’ll just be another you.”  This sounds horribly insulting and mean in writing, but was only mildly insulting and a little mean in person.  What he meant by that was, “I really need another me right now to do all this work, rather then another person I have to supervise and train.  Please don’t take offense as you are actually a brilliant first year.”  Well, I’m sure that’s what he really meant anyways.  =)

I don’t cry.  Ever.  Well, unless I’m reading a sad book, watching a depressing movie, or catching a glimpse of a particularly touching commercial.  I rarely cry at the occurence of non-fictional events however, with the exception of funerals and graduation ceremonies (oddly enough, the only graduation that really had me bawling was from junior high – go figure).  Today, I almost cried in frustration.  In front of someone!  Plagued by a rapidly approaching deadline, a seemingly insurmountable pile of work, and weeks of unrelenting computer problems, I got teary-eyed explaining my latest setback to our technical support person.  Teary-eyed!  (Those of you who know me well will understand my disbelief and confusion.)  I’m still reeling from the incident, even though it was really only an incident in my head.  The person didn’t notice and, truth to tell, there weren’t any real tears, just the feeling of impending tears.  And I was in shock (“No, you’re kidding me.  I’m almost CRYING over this??!”) more then upset.  Still.  Weird.  I must be more stressed out then I think.

What I _am_ currently obsessed with is purses (see preceding post).  I’ve even sunk so low as to spend countless hours reading…please pity me…blogs devoted exclusively to them.*  Yes, there are blogs devoted entirely to purses.  Here’s one, here’s another one, and this one is probably my favorite.**  I’m sure there’s some deep psychological explanation for this recent phenomenon though.  There has to be.  I refuse to believe it’s just because I’m shallow.  I may need to become a vegetarian or save the world or something to make myself feel better.  Or, better yet, maybe I’ll just buy another purse.

Speaking of which, the newest one I ordered from ebay arrived yesterday.  It’s a beautiful deep red.  It’s not designer, it’s not expensive, and it’s not even real leather (the horror!), but I absolutely love it.  I love it so much that I had to scramble to find an appropriate outfit to complement the purse this morning.  Unfortunately I hadn’t picked up my dry cleaning yet and was left with very few options.  Even more unfortunately, the outfit I ended up wearing made me look a bit like a sailor (white slacks and a black top with some white piping), but it was worth it to sport the new purse.  All the way to the office.  Where is sat in my desk drawer.  All day.  Moldering.  And I sat at my desk.  All day.  Moldering.  Mired in a seemingly endless, tedious, overwhelming, frustrating and complicated document review project.   

Um, I really need to go buy a purse now.

*And yet I wonder why I’m still only half-way through the five books I’ve been reading for the last several months!

**I would never actually _spend_ that much on a purse.  I’m entirely too thrifty (read “cheap”).  Many of the purses which are highlighted actually elicit a great deal of confusion on my end.  However, I’m absolutely fascinated by people’s preferences.  Especially when they’re very pronounced.  What makes an object desired by one person and disdained by another?  Why do people have such diverse opinions on beauty?  (Although perhaps this applies primarily to objects.  Haven’t there been some studies that have found there are certain social/cultural norms universally defining attractiveness in humans?)^

^Apologies for the long (and boring) post.  I’ll try harder next time.  =)  Also, those of you who actually enjoy the interplay between texts and footnotes should read this book.

My roommate, who is now working at my firm on a temporary basis to help with a large document review project, made a rather insightful comment the other day.  She’s noticed that between the effusive praises pouring forth from my senior partner and the more sarcastic comments I get from one of the junior partners on my team, I will probably stay pretty well grounded as an attorney.  The senior partner, SP, believes in positive reinforcement and tells me daily that I’m a legal genius (which I know I am far, far from, but is still nice to hear).  She premises such statements on the fact that I can write out my full name, know how to spell “c-o-u-r-t,” and usually manage to tie my own shoelaces.  The junior partner, JP, assesses my abilities more realistically and believes in the socratic method of teaching.  JP is brilliant and a little intimidating to work with (although it’s helped that he’s told me he thinks of me and the other first year in the firm as the little sisters he never had).  Our last conversation ended with him asking (I hope rhetorically), “Now, you wouldn’t write a motion and file it with the Court on toilet paper, would you?”     

I mention this because I’m currently working on something I hope to turn in to him tomorrow.   If I could find an easy way to do it, I’d turn it in written on toilet paper.  I think he’d find it funny.  =)  

I suspect my roommate thinks I’m stupid. 

Imagine it:  It’s Friday.  Noon.  I’m pleasantly surprised to get an email at work from said roommate informing me that she has made banana bread.  “Great,” I think to myself, “I love banana bread.”  The email goes on to state that she’s made two loaves.  One for us and one she is going to send to her vegan brother.  The one for us is on the right hand side of the kitchen counter.  “Okay, easy enough,” I mentally note, “only eat the loaf on the right.”  After a late night out in Pasadena celebrating a friend’s birthday, I head home, excited by the prospect of freshly made banana bread.  I arrive at the apartment to find a note scrawled on our message board, essentially reiterating the email.  Our banana bread is on the right side of the counter.  Her brothers, which I’m again told I’m not to eat, is on the left.  “Hmm, okay.  Maybe she thinks I’d forgotten about that early email,” I mutter.  At this point, I’m a little tempted to eat her brother’s bread.  Because that’s the kind of person I am.  I turn and look on the counter and, I kid you not, there are NOTES ABOVE EACH LOAF designating one as “Vegan” and the other as “Not Vegan.”  The aforementioned notes were complete with arrows pointing downward to the respective loaves.  She had DRAWN ME A DIAGRAM in the event that the email, hand written message, and labels above the loaves weren’t quite clear enough.  Because I’m just that stupid.  =)

On another roommate-related note, we dropped by my office today to pick up some papers I needed (having both decided it was too nice a day to spend indoors doing work – much better to try to get some work done outside a Coffee Bean).  While there we ran into the Managing Partner of the office.  Left with little choice, I introduced him to my roommate, She of the Mini-skirt, “Roommate, this is the Managing Partner.  Please be appropriately deferential.  Kowtowing would not be frowned upon.  Managing Partner, this is my roommate.”  He smiles, says, “No, no, I have to do all the bowing around this office,” and executes a quick bow to demonstrate.  His other comment to her?  “You’re much taller then I thought you’d be.”  The reason behind his cryptic comment?  “Given how Y. says she keeps you under her thumb (*makes squashing gesture with his thumb to clarify*), I expected you to be much shorter.”  So random. 

And in non-roommate related news, I went to a cool cocktail party with some friends last night.  This of course necessitated a quick shopping trip to buy a cocktail-party-appropriate dress (because the eighty dresses I already have weren’t quite right).  The event somehow snowballed into me acquiring a completely new summer wardrobe.  I have a serious, serious shopping problem.  Please consider this my cry for help.  (Help.) 

I had a great time in SF this weekend, although I almost didn’t make it.  Plans were up in the air all week (and for someone as generally disorganized as I am, I actually am a huge pre-planner) and there was a crisis involving a lost driver’s license and a waiting shuttle, but I (barely) made it.  I was able to celebrate a good friend’s birthday with a great group of girls (“my girls” as my friend CH affectionately calls them).  For those of you I missed on this trip, apologies all around.  I didn’t have much time up there and things were very last minute.  I’ll catch you the next time I’m up!

So the reason I didn’t have much time was that, as part of the firm’s pro bono option, I spent most of this past weekend in San Francisco, reading scholarship essays for an Asian American Pacific Islander fund that’s distributing money to high school students for college.  It was, perhaps surprisingly, a  really good experience.  I’d mentally composed a terrific post about the experience and what I took away from it while I was driving from San Francisco back to San Jose, but I lost it somewhere after Palo Alto.  (If anyone finds it, please let me know.  It’s probably floating somewhere along the 101.)  What you guys are left with is a much more disjointed mess.  More along the lines of what you should be used to. 

The essays really brought back some childhood experiences and memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time.  Like the original post, I think they must have gotten lost along the way.  My life is nice now.  It’s been nice for a long time, and I forget that wasn’t always the case.  This weekend reminded me that there’s some value to remembering the negatives.  I frequently joke about how self-absorbed I am, but I’ve been wondering how much truth has seeped into that statement over the years.  After all, it’s natural and entirely too easy to become more self-absorbed as we get older and our lives become more complicated.  Time is harder to find, whether it’s time for work, other people in your life, or yourself.  And you (and by “you,” I mean “I”) really do become wrapped up in yourself and your current existence.  Reading those essays put things in a little more perspective.  I think I need to get more involved with something outside myself.  I used to be.  I just need to figure out what…

Anyways, this realization followed the end of the worse week of my professional career (at least so far).  It was a week where I couldn’t do anything right and I made mistake, after mistake, after mistake.  I was thorougly tired of apologizing by the end of the week (although the partner who was the unlucky recipient of all of these errors was more than nice about it all) and was feeling like the worst lawyer in existence.  I’m trying not to dwell on it.  Perspective.  Hopefully this week will be better.  If not, I’m running for cover.  =)

I’m exhausted.  It’s been 16 hour days every day this week.  That doesn’t leave much time for anything else.  Like showering.  Or eating.  Or keeping ones’ blog updated.  Anyways, I think even my perpetual perkiness is petering out…although not my adoration of alliteration apparently.  (Ouch.  Sorry for that.) 

Heading to Chicago this weekend.  Someone please lie to me about how warm it is there… 

One of the hardest things about being an associate, at least in a big firm, is gauging and juggling your workload.  One minute you’re happily swimming along with a relatively manageable load.  Nothing due for at least a week, a couple of projects on the backburner, and you’re heading home at 7:00 every day (and yes, it’s an odd, odd world when leaving at 7:00 prompts twinges of guilt and entails sneaking past all the other people still working).  Suddenly, everything picks up all at once and you’re drowning in a relentless deluge of paperwork, fighting the currents and wondering if you’ll ever make it upstream to spawn.  (Sorry, got caught up in the metaphor.)

It’s been one of those fighting the currents week. 

I hope everyone else’s week has been better.  I’m heading home to SJ for a much needed break tomorrow…although I’ll be bringing some work home with me…

The armchair I bought yesterday arrived at my office today and is sitting next to the cute little table I also purchased yesterday.  I now have a reading nook.  It is warm and cozy and everything a law firm office probably shouldn’t be.  It certainly doesn’t send the message of Big Mean Litigator (of course, being 5’2″ and sounding somewhat like a valley girl doesn’t help).  In a moment of insanity, I also contemplated getting a stuffed teddy bear to occupy the armchair, but then I thought better of it.  I’d like to be taken seriously as an attorney.  A stuffed dog would clearly be much more professional. 

Went hiking this weekend.  Because of the rain earlier in the week, I was knee-deep in mud for most of the hike.  (I feel safe in making this statement only because the friend I went hiking with virtually never reads this blog and will therefore not be able to quibble about whether the mud was knee-deep or, say, barely enough to get my shoes slightly dirty.)

As for the rest of the weekend:  Tried to see a movie.  Unsuccessfully.  Bought the black purse I’ve been wanting forever (will graciously spare you the details about my beautiful new purse).  Made turkey chili, one of the few things I make well.  Bought office furniture (see first paragraph).  Went to a cardio kickboxing class at my new gym.  Did some weights.  By the way, never follow up an hour long kickboxing class and a weights session with a three and a half hour hike.  I realized when I woke up Sunday morning that it’s all too easy to take simple things, like being able to move ones limbs, for granted.

(*Yawn*) 

Okay, even I’m getting bored of this entry.  I’ll stop now.  Night all.  (*Wanders off*)

First day of work was good.  Everyone seems really nice.  Went to a fancy legal aid fundraiser dinner at the last minute, completely underdressed.  May have been the youngest person in the room. Met some really nice people, checked out my office (bigger then my old one, but bad view), and got our blackberries.  They’re the newest ones and are actually black, as opposed to the older blue ones.  And there’s a color screen!  Nifty.  Also, we have casual Fridays.

Yesterday was spent battling a bout of food poisoning.  Feeling much better today.  In a rare moment of extreme optimism, I’m going to head over to the gym across the street and join any minute now.  My collarbone made a reappearance last week, which has inspired me to keep up the diet and exercise.  My friend’s visit this weekend derailed that a bit, but I’m working to get back on track.  Maybe having to pay every month will inspire me to work out on those mornings when I just can’t seem to get out of bed.  Or maybe it will be an extravagant waste of money, seeing as to how I often can’t seem to make it to the gym downstairs in my own building.  We’ll see. 

I start my new job tomorrow. 

One of my best friends came to visit this weekend, so it was spent shopping, drinking, dancing, eating, and recuperating from one of the most stressful weeks of my life to date.  Although having to go clubbing two days in a row was also rather stressful.  Especially when it involves trying to coordinate 30 people on a Saturday night, coming from all corners of the earth (or at least LA), only to find out at the last minute that the club where we were all supposed to meet was closed, thus entailing the making of last minute plans as everyone was en route to the closed club.  A million frantic phone calls later, we all ended up at another LA club, which essentially turned out to be a guest list only venue.  Award for most appalling comment I heard all night goes to the guy who was trying to convince the bouncer to let a big group of his friends in by reassuring the bouncer that “We have a lot of hot women with us and only one fat one.”  Ouch.     

So as some of you already know, I resigned on Friday.  The partners I’ve been working with left for another firm, for a variety of reasons, and gave their entire team the option to come with them.  We all went because they really care about their associates, which (and those of you who work for big firms know this) is pretty rare.  In fact, they volunteered to have lunch with the parents of one of the other junior associates to reassure them about their daughter’s decision.  Yup, you read that right. 

In any case, for those of you who have yet to experience it, resigning is stressful.  Deciding to resign is stressful.  Packing up the office is stressful.  Saying good-bye and trying to leave on a good note is stressful.  Inevitably burning bridges behind you is stressful.  

Be prepared for a host of new complaints in the upcoming months! =)   

Just got back from work.  Yes, my life is sad.  It’s three am and I can’t sleep, even though I have to be back at the office in about three hours.  It’s been a long and stressful day, with an emergency project due and a lot of major changes happening in the office.  I’ll post a more detailed update later this week concerning my efforts to navigate what is turning out to be a political minefield…     

Whew, just dodged the bullet for a document review project in Austin.  At least so far.  I feel bad for the first year going though; she has to leave Sunday.  Doc review by yourself in a strange city for an indeterminate period of time can not be fun.  Am keeping my fingers firmly crossed that I won’t be sent into the abyss. 

Diet going well.  Too weak to write.  Or too lazy.  Whichever.

Here I sit, staring at my blackberry, hoping it doesn’t buzz.  Please, please, please stay silent…    

*Sad violin music playing in the background*

I hate to be so cliche, but thank God it’s Friday.  Although Friday does lose some of its charm when you have to come in early Saturday.  I received my first Friday 5:00pm call today; it came from the NY office.  I expect most of my weekend is effectively ruined.

Coincidently, we also received notice of our bonuses today.

In any case, I’m off to enjoy my Friday night before I have to face a Saturday at the office.  I’m going to a friend of a friend’s party, where we’ll no doubt see how many people can fit into a small, two bedroom apartment.  Rumor has it that there will be test tube shots and perhaps a test tube shot girl hired for the occasion.  That part doesn’t sound so fun, but I am excited about getting to wear these new gold shoes I bought recently (no, they’re not tacky, I promise!).  Oh, and if anyone has any advice on how to get this site to accept posts/responses, shoot me an email.  Despite my best efforts (i.e. hitting random buttons), I’m told it still isn’t working.  I’m baffled.     

A co-worker told me, as I was complaining (yet again) about all this holiday weight gain (while simultaneously consuming my fourth piece of chocolate), that “If you’ve lived a full life, you won’t go to your grave looking good, you’ll skid in sideways clutching a martini in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other.”  Or something to that effect.  Of course, she’s from Texas.  Only people from Texas can get away with saying stuff like that (or things like “That dog won’t hunt”).  Anyways, I like it.  Am thinking of using it as the new tag line for my blog.  What do y’all think?  It’s either that or Diaries of a Corporate Lawyer.  Which either sounds kinda cool, or really, really lame.  Given my tendency towards all things lame, I venture to say it’s the later.  

By the way, I’ve had a few people mention that they can’t respond to the postings.  I think I’ve fixed it.  Just click on the link that says discuss, below the posts, and we’ll see what happens.  I do wish you all would respond.  As narcissistic as I am, I still like to know people are out there and I’m not the only one who finds my extremely boring life riveting. =)

I finished up work early today.  We’re still waiting for feedback on some of the stuff we submitted.  Had a scary moment when one of the more senior associates warned me that I may get a call at 3am to come into the office and help with revisions if the feedback arrives late.  It still hadn’t arrived when I left at 8:30, so there’s still the possibility, but given how little I know and how utterly unhelpful I’d be, it’s probably a slim possibility at best. 

Just got home from work. It’s been a long day, and anticipating a longer one tomorrow. On the positive side, I really like the people I work with, even if one of them did laugh at me today. I think I caught him off guard with my utter lack of any pratical legal knowledge. He was actually really great at explaining what I was supposed to have done and how to go about doing it, and at least I was comfortable enough to tell him to stop laughing. Although he didn’t.