December 20, 2007

Happy Holidays Big Law Firm Style

Posted in Happy Hour, Lawyer Lifestyles, Lessons Learned at 7:09 pm by devilwearsbrooksbrothers

So, I had a big grand plan to not drink at the firm’s holiday party. A practice I have stuck by since my first party back when I was still a wee project assistant. How does the old saying go – the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

In all fairness, it was a pretty bad day. Not that I drink every time I have a bad day; just some bad days. And I don’t drink to get drunk, just to unwind. Man, it is starting to sound like I might have a drinking problem. But I wonder if it means that because I can recognize that it sounds like I have a problem I obviously don’t have a problem; may need to check in with a friend of Bill W on that one.

Back to the topic at hand. I had to sit through a meeting with A-hole. Worse, when I came in he gave me a look like he knew me and so I sat there afraid that if I looked in that direction we would make eye contact and he would nod or something. Then what? Would I have to nod back? Smile? Pretend that I didn’t do a celebratory dance around my cubicle when I thought he was homeless and living in Suburban Station?

Now the meeting itself didn’t make my day bad, and maybe I should stop saying I was having a bad day. It was more like I was on edge and the meeting didn’t help. I still had a lot of shopping to do, I was wearing a skirt that was cutting into my rib cage, it was Imelda’s last week for a while and I had just written a column promising to socialize at the very holiday party that was looming.

So when Double Tall Espresso (so named for her always perked personality) asked if I wanted something from the bar, I said yes, hoping one glass of wine would help take the edge off.

And before I knew it, I had more than one glass of wine, had only met one new co-worker and had agreed to go to the after party.

Fortunately at the after party I made the switch to light beer which is really like drinking water, except without water’s hydrating qualities. Still I did manage to find myself in a conversation with a male partner about men who stare at women’s chests (while Angel stood back and laughed on the inside); a place Sober Sarah would have never gone. If she did go, she would have been better, more articulate about it.

Then there was the moment when I lost all internal dialogue when a lawyer I never met addressed me and my response (out loud) was, “that’s weird.” Yes, I find it odd that people I don’t know, know me; especially when you consider that people I have met half a dozen times don’t remember my name. Still, I would have rather kept that exclamation on the inside or at least just on my face.

Despite that I did wake up the next morning with my wallet, my cell phone and most importantly almost all of my dignity.

And the night wasn’t a complete loss; there was one Festivus miracle. Angel and I decided that we are essentially the same person but different (something I realized the day I came in wearing white wide leg pants and a black turtleneck and she was wearing black wide leg pants and a cream turtleneck) which would make her more my bizarro as opposed to my nemesis. And just like in the comic books when the hero and the bizarro team up for good (or in this case most probably evil), I think Angel and I are going to try the ally route for a while.

Now, if I could just stop thinking improper thoughts about a lawyer I really shouldn’t be thinking about at all, 2008 could turn out to be my best year yet.


December 5, 2007

A Question for My Male Readers

Posted in Office Hijinks at 11:27 pm by devilwearsbrooksbrothers

I work with a pretty busty group of women.  A fact that if I were still 13 and desperately waiting to “fill-out” might have me seething with jealousy, but now that I have had 16 years to get used to the idea that they aren’t getting any bigger I am pretty okay being surrounded by the buxom.

So the one day, we are sitting around Imelda’s desk talking about which attorneys won’t talk to you on principle and which attorneys will only talk to your chest.

“Really?” I asked.  I mean, I have met lawyers that didn’t think I could possible understand anything they were saying simply because “esquire” didn’t follow my name, but talking to your chest, I thought that was a workplace legend told to keep young assistants in frumpy looking frocks.

Imelda, bless her heart, asked in all earnestness “You haven’t noticed?”

I laughed, pointed at the place where my chest should be and said, “They don’t get a whole lotta talking to.”

So my question is, why? Why when talking to a well endowed female do you (and by you and don’t mean all of you all of the time but rather all of you some of the time and/or some of you all of the time) talk to her chest?

Do you think it is flattering?

Because it’s not; from what I have been told, getting catcalls from construction workers seems more endearing.

Do you think she doesn’t notice?

Because I am here writing to you that she does.  Sure, she might not say anything to you, and thus you feel like you are getting away with it.  But believe me she is telling all of her friends and co-workers.

Do you think she is asking for it?

Okay, I might give you this one given the right set of circumstances. For instance, since learning that this actually happens in the real world and not just on sitcom television, I have been wearing increasingly tighter and lower cuts shirts hoping someone will look down to talk to me.

Now, if I don’t hear from anyone I will be left to assume that this phenomenon is purely instinctual and that you are unaware that while holding a conversation you are not looking at her face but staring at her sweater muffins.

In which case, practice looking up, boys. Her eyes are a good eight to twelve inches higher.