North of the Hill South of Heaven

A K Street Paralegal's Plummet through Purgatory

  • Lawfirm Dossier #52 - Mr. Clean

    • 7 Mar 2011
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    • Dossier Mr. Clean attorney
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    So, today is an excruciatingly boring day. The one thing I was excited about was the energy & environment seminar I was attending, yet it ended up having nothing to do with my practice and went over by about 45 minutes. So, I thought I might begin illustrating the characters I work for (or with.)

    Outside of Pear Bottom is another fine young chap bred from another Ivy League school, perhaps was a member of the polo league, studied the lute and performed medieval dance routines for his grade school talent show.  I may be laying the sarcasm on a little too thick, but it only comes where it is deserved. He is a first year associate and was hired late last year to our energy team (essentially taking up half of my duties.)  So, I would suppose this guy has been around for at least half a year, if not more. The reason I call him Mr. Clean is because in all of that time, he has not adorned his office with one thing. Not one helpful office organizer, not one symbolic diploma or framed map of antiquity, not one life momento that he does not prove that he plugs himself into the wall after he gets home from work. Nothing. Even his desk, when I walk in, is a barren wasteland. It's like the surface of the Moon, but without the moon rocks. I don't even know what he does when he needs to take a note.

    But, his personality is almost as strange. For one, I have actually never seen him on foot. He keeps the door shut to his office all day and then, poof!, it is magically open and he has disappeared. He is an impecible dresser, although I don't have much taste for turn of the 20th century British barrister casualwear. And strangest of all, I think his vertabrae are unified as one. When I walk into his office, he will be at his computer, but he swivels around, not moving any part of his upper torso. It's a strange thing to imagine, so I have utilized Microsoft Paintbrush to help illustrate my point.

    Please examine Exhibit A:

    Mrclean

    And, yes, he does talk like that. I also think he might be a drone from the great Attorney Queen. In any event, Mr. Clean normally does not know what to do. I've noticed on the docket of one major case I work on he has had to retract and resubmit a pleading on more than one occasion because he forgot standard points of procedure in the body of the certificate of service. But, oh well, I guess we all have to start somewhere, right, Mr. Clean? So, please stop making me come to your office so you can tell me to copy a page out of a century old book so you look as smart as you dress.
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  • I Am Better At Hiding Than They Are... At Vision

    • 5 Mar 2011
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    • Dossier Pear Bottom attorney
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    That’s a quote from perhaps my favorite workplace TV character of all time. Dwight Schrute. In the context of this, he refers to hunting deer with his dad and, inevitably, spins the idea into some sort of twisted workplace metaphor. I relate to this, though, not because I've ever been deer hunting (most people from my home state of Texas shake their head when they hear this), but because in my job position, ears and eyes are open and gunning everywhere down these halls. And the owners of them will use them to their own great advantage. I recognize now the importance of laying low to keep your sanity and sense of self worth from not melting into marshmallow fluff. At least for a few hours.

    When I first started working here… God, that seems so long ago (14 months to be exact), I actually was a really excited guy. I thought that this would be a great place for me to learn about the inner workings of how law firms work and get a glimpse of what life could be like after law school. Well, if I went, that is…

    In any case, I was that like that overachieving little snot you hated in high school when I first started working. Wow, how time can change things.

    So, the first vulture to catch onto my eagerness to work was Bitchy Boss. Do you remember me touching on him from my last post? Well, his name really isn’t Bitchy Boss. It’s actually Pear Bottom. You see, the etymology of Pear Bottom stems from the rather obvious. His structural integrity forms like the fruit of the pear persuasion near his nethers. The circumference down there, I’d guess, is perhaps twice as large as it is near the top of his torso. If you still need a mental example, think when Danny DeVito playing Penguin.

     

     

    Penguin_1

     

     

    The first couple of months I worked at the firm, I got a nice little cubicle that reminded me of being at the zoo, but on the other side of the bars. It was situated on the same row as my practice. By fate, Pear Bottom's also in this practice. I remember he was the one out of all the others I got the most work from. And it was actually interesting in the beginning. A lot of it was research, which I actually find fascinating most of the time. He would always ask if I pulled the article off of Lexis (even though I found it on NYT.com) as if that was the only website that existed. When galactic apocalypse occurs, Lexis/Nexis will be the only one left pinging.

    But I digress. The research soon tapered off because the one case came to a settlement. I was then introduced to something that has become an inextricable part of my life.

    The three-hole puncher.

    I do not think I would be shocked if one day I woke up and found my right arm had been replaced with this vile office tool. So, I'm on binder duty. Indefinitely. I realized how I never had time to even breathe between one binder project and the next. He sat down the hall from my cubicle-cage and would CONSTANTLY walk back and forth, eyeing my general vicinity. The pieces came together when I saw him eyeing the five large D-ring exhibit binders (even with incredible front pages designed and printed out by moi) that were waiting to be picked up by Office Services. Next thing I know, I get the phone call.

    Pear Bottom: “Can you stop by?”

    Just one side-note on one of the major annoyances I hold with attorneys. I said that Pear Bottom walks constantly back and forth by my desk. Is it really necessary for him to call me on the phone to come into his office? Especially when I am getting reverb echoes through the speaker because I can hear his actual voice talking. Like when a guy calls into a radio station while the same station is playing in the same room he’s in. I know lawyers like to feel important, but just tell me to stop by when you walk by one of the twenty times you do before lunch.

    So I knew it was in the interest of my mental survival to get far, far away from this attorney. But, these guys are smart, I think, so you have to be subtle. Subtle and crafty. Over time and by growing strong relationships with the right people in the office (e.g. office supervisor, IT dude, office manager, all of office services staff, etc.) I had built enough confidence that I could begin asking favors. I made up some ridiculous excuses, like I'm allergic to something in this part of the office, or I broke my toe during a softball game, I was able to acquire an empty office (AN OFFICE) in the back of the library where nobody goes all to myself closer to the elevators and further away from Pear Bottom.

    I think for three months, Pear Bottom knew I was still in the building, because I would respond to his messages, but did not know where I was sitting. One day while I was chatting with him about how the Texas Longhorn football team was going to suck this year (last year), he tried to tactfully interject, “So, where, uh, where did they exactly stick you?” I told him, the library and he looks at me with little empty eyes and says, “Uhhh, where’s that?”

    I am a legal chameleon

     

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  • About

    I am a paralegal at a large undisclosed law firm in Washington, D.C. Am I lucky to be in this position? Sure, why not. Am I completely jaded? Absolutely. Do I figure that everyone else around me is, too? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

    So, I guess that touches on the first rule of NOTHSOH - This blog isn't and will never be anything less than rated R. It's not that I am by nature profane or that I want to make the populace sick, I just have a lot to get off my chest. If you don't like it, shit, there's about sixty two zillion other blogs on crocheting.

    Also, for you paralegal-hopefuls and paralegals looking for advice. Well, sorry. Unless you're really good at reading between the lines, this blog mainly consists of the absurdity I endure on an almost daily basis as a legal assistant in the nation's capital.

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