I was thinking the other day, I really like my job. The work's been good, the hours reasonable (relatively speaking), and even Cleveland Boss seems to have warmed up to me. And then, I get a call.

It was from a partner I'd met only once before, at a summer associate "field trip." She works in a different practice area from mine, and asked if I could do a small assignment- Nothing major, just a little online research. I said "sure, as long as New York Boss ok's it." (I'm knee-deep in document review for an international litagation case he's supervising) She calls back, and says to swing by her office.

Later that evening, New York Boss stops by my office on his way out, and rather cryptically says "You know, as a word of advice, don't get caught between two partners." I of course acknowledge the advice, a little confused about what he's saying. he continues, "It's never a good place to be, and in the end, you just end up making people mad."

Maybe he knew something I didn't, because I was here till 10pm last night doing research for and it's totally nonbillable, so i'm falling behind on my billables and all those hours count for shit. Several hours with Lexisnexis later, I'd crafted for her a 2-inch thick binder of research, organized by section and tabbed with post-it flags every time a point relevent to her presentation arose. We'll refer to this partner as Omarosa from here on out.

She finally arrives in the office around 3 this afternoon. I drop off the binder, and Partner Omarosa says it looks good. Oh, and could I just write up a memo summarizing everything? That would be nice. And then she says it, right to my face with a smile..."Monday is fine." I nodded back "Great!" - my ridiculous smile probably looked like one of those highschool cheerleaders at those Disney competitions where it's unclear if they are grinning or baring their teeth at rival squads. Of course, she kept the binder, meaning I have to re-print every case in it, and then read them, and summarize them. This will take an entire day if I'm fast...an entire day I already earmarked to play catchup with the other billable work for the partners I'm already working with on actual cases. I turned an walked out the door in a bit of a daze, forgetting my notes in the binder. No sooner am I in the hallway than Omarosa calls me back to get it saying "you left your notes...you're probably going to need my cellphone number this weekend. And feel free to email it me on Saturday if you're done early."

Ugh.

I had a battle with the coffee machine, trying to get it to dispense hot water during a client meeting. I bought this fab organic Moroccan Mint tea... it's delish with a few tablespoons of sugar. To make the damned machine work, You have to press a little button that looks like a lock and then a little button that looks like a red faucet. (not the little buttons that look like a beakers, a pitcher, an envelope, and a window- I don't know what those do) I guess it's a locking mechanism so that you can't just pour hot water willy-nilly- someone might sue if they got hurt. Anyhow, as we were gearing up to restart the questioning, I couldn't get it to work, not noticing it was because someone had left a packet of french roast in the dispenser. I kept pressing the buttons, but nothing happened. So Boss walks over, gives me the "you helpless idiot" look, and presses a couple buttons. Well, it worked- kind of... A steady stream of the most foul-smelling brown coffee-like liquid (that I imagine is supposed to pass as instant French Roast) starts squirting into my half-full cup of mint tea, finally stopping juuuuust shy of the brim...

I of course start laughing hysterically- the appropriate response when something only mildly humorous happens in a meeting with two partners and a client. Boss looks confused. I explain that "it's coffee"...he says "that's what you wanted wasn't it?" and then notices the tea tab on the side of the cup, and immediately looks very sheepish. I continue laughing hysterically. (Thank God the Client, who had helped me figure out the machine earlier, also finds it highly amusing) FBI boss looks stoic, unmoved, and possibly a tad annoyed.

Now I'm stuck with what to do with this nasty concoction. I remove the cup. Boss looks horrified, and says "you're not going to drink that, are you?" (he really thought I was going to, too- Apparently, after seeing me atop my desk barefoot he now puts nothing past me from riding a pink scooter to work to this) "well, no, I can't just leave it there, can I?" Of course, the conference room is nowhere near a kitchen or bathroom, so this practically spilling mug of steaming hot grossness has to be carefully carried across half the office, including two giant turkish rugs. I sloooowly make my way over to the ladies room, and notice a water fountain at the entrance. I'm did it! I made it without spilling a drop.

Then I dump the whole mug out in the trough, and it goes EVERYWHERE. Apparently, water fountains are really shallow and not meant to handle more than a trickle of water. I had coffee all over my jacket, my skirt, coffee splotches on my nylons, and across and in my shoes. After 10 minutes in the ladies room with wet paper towels, I was still damp, smelled of minty coffee, and had funny spots all over my high heels. Gah.

Post-script:
I ran into Cleveland Boss in the elevator the next day who mentions that he has something for me. I look frightened and ask what (assuming that he's found the perfect project for me, in addition to my now overdue other 3 which I'm already working on). He hands me a bag of "Calming Chamomile for Quiet Moments." I inform him of the disposal mishap. He tells me that next time, I should find a conveniently located plant... Apparently, I'm not the only smartass in the office.

Cleveland Boss seemed in a good mood. But it was like 10am, and he's always in the best mood between about 9:30 and 11.

I'm working on an article for him. On Monday, he asked me when the article was due because he had no idea (um...Friday...?) and then reminded me to get it done before Friday. Good Job, Boss. That was helpful. He then asked me when I'd have it done. I told him I would have it to him by Friday.

Well, at least we had a dialogue...

"Colleen", Cleveland Boss' long-suffering secretary, told me today was a much calmer day to stop by and talk with Boss regarding the article (which is now due in one week, even though we still have no topic.) I stop in, and no Boss. "Colleen" swears he was just in, and I make a crack about him hiding under the desk to avoid me. This is overheard by the "Ana" the Latina concessions lady who has probably been here at Baker in her spotless white uniform serving cokes for about as long as Boss has been here looking confused in his mustard-yellow tweed jackets.

As I pass her on my way back to my office, yellow pad in hand-

Ana: "Are you looking for Meester Cleveland?"

Me: "Yes, have you seen him?"

Ana: (whispers) "I theenk he's in the men's room. He usually takes heez newspaper so he might be a while."

She then happily goes back to restocking the tea caddy.

As if I wasn't uncomfortable enough around Boss, I now know his bathroom habits. Arg.

So today is the submission deadline for the credit crisis article I've been working on. I make edits, send to Boss' secretary, who sends it back. Boss asks me to make the final edits. I do so on paper, with blue ink. I give to Boss I resume work. I then go to the bathroom. I'm washing my hands on my way out of the bathroom when I hear my name paged on the PA system. I know this isn't good.

I go back to my office. Of course it is Boss who is angry that I didn't answer my phone. He left a message saying to call him. I call him back.

Boss answers. Boss is unhappy. He makes this known. Apparently the version I edited did not have "Colleen," his secretary's, edits. I try explaining that it is indeed the same document and the most recent version available to me. Boss says this makes no sense. Apparently, Boss does not like computers. Boss is uninterested in why problem occurred but wants it fixed. Now. Boss says to email a word document to Colleen rather than attaching a document from the main file site. I try to explain that in order to email the word document, I would have to download it from the mail file site, which would be the same document in the end. Boss says this also makes no sense, and that I should just send a word document. I stop trying to explain and say "Right away." This ends the conversation.

I call "Colleen". She also does not understand what Boss wants. I explain to her that Boss wants a word document. Colleen acknowledges that this does nothing to salvage the edits made to the previous version, but does not question the chosen solution. Colleen re-does all the edits.

Colleen sends me a confirmation of the final article submission. It is slated to appear in an upcoming edition of Bob's Litigation Journal (or Something), authored by "By Franklin W. Cleveland III, Partner." In a footnote, I am acknowledged for my contribution to the article. I feel a sense of acheivement. Woot.

After writing that uber-cheesy marketing puff-peice, Boss floated another article for me to do. This one is 600 words (i.e. really short) but is slated for publication in a glossy-paged quarterly Which, upon looking at it, appears to be a *real* magazine...kinda like a niche-economics mini-foreign affairs. Its editorial board includes Paul Krugman and George Soros, and...drumroll...I have ten days to write this thing. Eek. Again, I have no clue.

Below is an amended version of the email Boss sent me... Is this punishment or a vote of confidence? Or both?

This is apparently boss-speak for "I'm sorry for yelling at you, but you should have done it faster/earlier. Now start on the next one!" I particularly liked the part where he says I should get a feel for "tone"- perhaps his way of saying, "please no more super-cheesy chiches... please?!"

Thanks for all your hard work on the article. Sorry for all the stress yesterday. That's why I like to have things done in advance. Monday deadlines are the worst.

The editor sent me a copy of the magazine. I'd like you to look at it so that you have an idea of the tone, format, and audience, assuming you are willing to do another article. This one is shorter, but that won't necessarily make it easier. Let's discuss.

Thanks again.

Boss

I think I could start an entire blog by this name. My boss has the magical way of making all conversations with you intensely awkward in ways that no one can ever really put their finger on, generally with the result of darting eyes and nonsensical babble. Not in a creepy way or inappropriate way, but more like how a teenager feels when running into her high school Calculus teacher at the mall kind of way.

This morning he came to my office re: my article, to find me slumped over my keyboard, face in hands, rubbing my eyes in pain, looking at case citations. (Yeah, doing work is hard.)

He gave me back my article with revisions today. His major point? Remove all citations/quotes to internet billionaire Mark Cuban, because "I don't really like him. They're good quotes and all, but I just don't like Mark Cuban" Um. Ok.

Me: "But the Steve Schwarzman quotes are ok? You like him?"

Fritz (paraphrase): "Yeah. I like Schwarzman. Those can stay."

Schwarzman? He likes Schwarzman? I was about 2 seconds from retorting that I, on the otherhand, really dislike Steven Schwarzman, and however much Mark Cuban might be a self-centered wacky loose cannon, Steve Schwarzman is twice the arrogant jerk that Mark Cuban even when he's asleep or under anesthetic. Instead I laughed, and while openly laughing at your boss for his irrational hatred of internet billionaires is not preferred office behavior, it's still a distant second to openly mocking/challenging them on it. Or, put differently, nervous uncomfortable laughter is always a preferred response to nervous, uncomfortable sarcastic babble.

I think I'm making progress here.

* This morning I stopped by Boss' office to deliver my first draft of the article I've been writing for him. It's 3 days late from our agreed upon schedule. In my usual babble-y way, I apologized for being slow, giving the reason that it took me a long time to do. (I know, my logic was particularly compelling today.) He was nice about it, and said something like it's often challenging to create quality work product on demand, to which I responded (genius), "yeah, sometimes it's really hard to do work." Wow.

* Work is getting to the point where I think I'm really enjoying it. I'm relaxing a bit more- it doesn't feel like an all-day interview anymore. And when I pass my own reflection in a plate-glass window I no long feel like I'm on my way to audition for a David E. Kelly dramedy.

* Bar exam results come out in a week. I'm already planning for failure. I figure I'll have to first 'fess up to Boss then take the rest of the day off. I will let myself be sad for 1 (one) day and after that, I will then tell myself it's no big deal and act like everyone fails the bar the first time. I may pass the bar yet, but I figure I need not plan for that- I'll figure out what to do pretty quickly.

* I'm developing my own work style...I call it "lawyer-colorful." (I don't, but if the wierdos on What Not To Wear can name their style, so can I.) It involves a lot of black. but with funner stuff. Today I'm wearing a new violet-purple outfit that Boyfriend said was "very Jackie. O." I liked that. It wasn't deliberate, but I realized I enjoy the irony of my tendency to pair girlish stuff with officey-stuff...like swapping out the nude pantyhose and pointy heels for black tights and round-toed patent maryjanes, or putting my hair in a headband or ponytail with a pantsuit. I also wear that little Tiffany's heart pendant a lot. Maybe I should rename my style school-girl chic...

* I've progressed. I felt like I needed a treat this morning for finishing that article, so I went to Au Bon Pain for a treat- Petit Pain with powdered sugar and drizzled chocolate on top, with fresh squeezed OJ. I feel a bit bad spending $5 on breakfast...but...yum.