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.