I've decided to post my notes from work. I cannot, for legal reasons, mention the actual law firm, any clients, my coworker's names, nor its location exactly. But that leaves a lot of room for me since I think the most interesting things, sociologically, do not rely on these details anyway.
August 12.
From the bohemian neighborhood I emerged wearing a suit. Black pants, black blazer, white shirt (tucked in). I am twenty two years old and dressed as a stern, sexless black box. The only traces of humanity can be found in my silk scarf, which I now realize comes off as snobbish and aristocratic, not artsy. Most of the people on this bus are going to work, but they work in business-casual type places, with polo shirts and ruddy brown sports coats. They are bespectacled and have travel mugs with a handle that is modeled after a carabiner, so that it can be clipped onto the straps of their colorful messenger bags. I carry a black rectangle that is large enough to carry my sketchbook and various other things I may need throughout the day. I look and feel completely unlike myself. I can feel sweat dripping down my back, but do not dare take my jacket off, as I remember how badly my shirt is ironed.
//
This morning I stood out in front of the building for a few minutes before I tried to get inside. The stairs, which I preferred on principal, featured doors entirely closed off with key-pad type locks. I tried the elevator in the lobby, which did not aknowledge my finger. I pressed 2 again, and then again. No light, no door close, no movement. No sign of life. I pressed the "door close" and "door open" buttons a few times, and pressed 1 to make sure that the pressure of my finger was correct. I pressed softer. I pressed harder. I pressed like I didn't mean it.
By this point I was getting strange looks from the receptionist at the office across the foyer. She was speaking with someone and they both kept glancing up at me. I gave them a non-committal smile and walked back outside. It occurred to me that, stupidly, I didn't actually have anyone's number plugged into my phone. I tried a few local numbers I'd received in the last few days to listen to their answering machines...the barber shop, the pizza place...finally I got through to the office's, but of course no one answered. Rolled over immediately to voicemail, because they weren't open.
I tried the elevator again, and then had to speak with the people eyeing me warily.
"Hi...I'm sorry, but...this is my first day upstairs, and I can't seem to make it up there! All the doors are locked?"
"Oh!" said the standing woman, "the door on the second floor is not actually locked! They unlock it at about 8:10. Here, I'll come show you."
Very relieved at this. Not necessary, I knew where the door was, but it was nice to have the "oh don't worry about it, I did the same thing on my first day." This woman was an attorney, but I didn't catch if she was with us or with the non-profit.
//
I do have a desk. I wasn't sure if I would. After paperwork I was shown around my computer by a very nice guy from IT. We sat for a good forty minutes outlining things. He made polite joky comments and essentially put forth the "I will be friends with you" subtext that office people do. At the end of this, he said "if you have any questions, ask K, because this is my last day here."
//
THINGS I HAVE BEEN TOLD ABOUT MS. B, DISSOLUTION ATTORNEY, THE SENIOR SHAREHOLDER OF THE FIRM
- She will try and make me cry.
- She is rude to everyone.
- When you meet her stand up straight, speak clearly, and give both your first and last name. Be prepared for degradation.
- When she first met J, she told him the way he put on his blazer upset her.
- When she first met L, she turned her hand and examined her fingernails and grunted disapprovingly.
- When she first met X, he only said his first name. Hello, my name is X. WELL DO YOU HAVE A LAST NAME? She asked.
- She screams at everyone.
- She is very good at her job.
//
My office tour was cut short when someone came down and said, "I have an emergency." She spouted off a good many things I did not understand, and I went back to my desk. For the rest of the day, my only instruction was to read the online database and memorize names. I was to do this for the remaining six hours, while all around me people made a seen and were yelled at, were yelled for, were sworn at, and broke into runs with large precarious files.
Apparently this 'acclimation' period for new hires is not unusual. I am told most last nearly a week. But I was pulled into my supervisor's office with two hours to go and told I was to be secret assistant to Ms. B's assistant. I don't know how secret. Can I tell R, the admin who sits next to me? I do not ask. Instead I wait patiently by the phone, and within an hour I am asked to obtain a phone number. It is not a normal phone number, but the direct line to a frequent flier miles direct number, which they don't want to give you, they want you to go through customer care. I wrestled with it for a moment, had a very helpless chat with the CSR, who kept pressing me for more info.
"But...this is customer care?"
"I know...but my employer wants the direct number for the MVP club."
"...do they..want to modify their account?"
"I'm not sure."
"Do you have their account number?"
"No."
"So...what do you need?"
I was very polite and apologetic, oh ho ho you know how these things are, I'm just a helpless newbiw stuck in the middle don't you know. My CSR was also polite, and eventually interuppted herself by saying..oh okay here's the number." The process felt illicit, I felt as though I'd broken into something. I didn't wait to confirm the number, I just sent it upstairs and didn't here from anyone after that.
//
HR came by and gave me a stack of binders. The old revised pages had to be taken out and the new revised pages had to be put in. Exactly the sort of thing I like to do. It was mostly color-coded and fairly easy once I parsed the instruction sheet.
//
The last few jobs I've had were Much Better than the job-situation I was leaving. So it was always a focus on that relief, and less on what I was actually doing at the job. Working at Pier One was pretty great because I got away from my manic boss and got to work somewhere where I didn't have to peel dried strawberries from the floor or bleach out sinks. When I started with classifieds, I no longer had to talk people into buying opulent junk they didn't need, and I got away from a power-struggle going on in New Management. I was offered the legal assistant position because they needed one, but also because I had told Ali that classified sales were two abstract for me to 'sell,' and that I hated being a sales person -- it made me actually depressed to come into work.
(This may sound overly focused on the negative, but it's for good reason: I leave the bad situations. Other situations become good by default, and I stay until they become bad.)
This job is different because what I was doing before was preferable, in two ways. I loved my old job (though the ship was sinking fast, and I was abstractly happy to Get Out). But more to the point: for the last few months I've been sitting at home drawing or visiting city parks. I've done plenty of worrying, but I've also done a lot of fun stuff.
So this day of strife from everyone else, dissonant against my general boredom, was psychologically trying. I couldn't help thinking, as I waited for the bus...
I don't really like it.
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