The World According To Me

I have often reflected on how lucky I am that I generally quite enjoy my job. My colleagues were always really good sorts, my work interesting varied and my mentors inspiring. I have worked with the same firm for almost six years (SIX YEARS!) and I would not run out of fingers if I counted the number of times I had gotten seriously pissed off and considered moving on. And only once have I actually applied for another job. Which, in six years, isn't a bad run. I've worked in two offices within the same firm, about half of my time in each. The office that I'm in now is very small, twelve or so people, so we sort of have to get along for the most part or it makes the hours of 8.30 until 5pm quite difficult. I've also been quite lucky in that a couple of the people I work with have turned into people I am friends with outside of the office. Two girls, in particular, I would consider amongst my closest friends.

However, just before Christmas, one of those girls left cos she got all babied up - twins! They are nearly cooked* and it is all very lovely especially because they are IVF babies and extra extra precious. She has unfortunately had a fairly troublesome pregnancy and had to finish work much earlier than expected so that she could lay down in a hospital bed for weeks on end to keep the babies from falling out**. She is out of the danger period now through and is allowed home. I went and saw her last week and made her have a photo taken with me to document the one and only time that my belly will be flatter than hers - yes, that's right - when she's seven months pregnant with twins. Because she's a clean-living, to-the-gym-twice-a-day type of chick, she was naturally thrilled to pose for the camera. I have taken on an advisory role in relation to naming the babies, and have suggested that if they are one of each gender they should be called Sharon and Darren. Two girls should be Sharon and Karen and if they are two boys they should absolutely be named Shane and Wayne. Time will tell if she heeds my advice.

The other lass left last week to relocate to Queensland with her husband, which has gutted me the most. I plan to harass her by every means of communication, including carrier pigeon, until she comes home, but I don't hold out much hope that my pleas/stalking will do a lot of good. And who would blame her? Her new office looks out onto the beach and their apartment is just around the corner from her office (and thus, the beach). And she's getting paid more. And it's, like, sunny and stuff. And there's probably hills there, which I haven't seen for years.

So that leaves the number of truly grouse people left in the office to one. Me. The replacements that have been hired for the abovementioned stars are turning out to be tools. Reaaaaal tools. One of them is one of those people that even if you were a Buddhist, you would still want to punch them in the face repeatedly. She is just so. fucking. irritating I can't even describe it. It's pretty unbearable. Luckily, as we know, I am now in my 'cell' and don't have to look at her directly very often, but I can still hear her. Which is enough to make me angry for most of the day.

And my actual work - well back in the good old days I used to do a bit of Family law, a fair bit of Criminal law, some Employment law type work and some civil litigation. Now I only do Family law. And as each day passes, I lose faith in humanity a little more. Whilst I understand how, it must be said that the breakdown of a relationship really can bring out the worst in people. Added to that fact is that I really only have a boss for two days each week because they've not replaced the total fuck-up from last year who replaced my good boss. Part-time boss really couldn't give two shits about the work we're doing, which doesn't really sit well with me when we're dealing with you know, issues like whether our client's get to see their kids and stuff. Plus the workload has been pretty light on for a few months now PLUS there's no real Net fun during my work days so all I have to do in between writing the odd nasty letter/drafting overly dramatic trial Affidavits is arrange my monkey into amusing positions and covertly take photos on my phone and then blog them.

I have made numerous enquiries of management as to whether there is an intention to try and employ someone to replace the part-time boss who replaced the total fuck-up who replaced the good boss, but I cannot get a solid answer. The jurisdiction in which I work does not have a great deal of value placed upon it because the client base isn't necessarily the type that the firm wants to attract (seriously) and it is, I think, all a bit too hard for them. I feel like I am treading water.

So, the obvious solution is to move on, yes? Yes. However, here's the tricky part. I have exactly 13 and a half months until I become eligible for my pro-rata long service leave. If I leave now, I walk away from about 9 weeks of salary paid to me in a nice lump sum. Together with my accrued annual leave, which by my calculations if I don't have a holiday from now until April '09 will be at least another 9 weeks….you know, it's a lot of moolah. Enough moolah to move away from this shithole of a town and move somewhere far away (somewhere with hills) and perhaps think about putting together a deposit down on a little place of my own. Or go travelling overseas (which I have NEVER done - how pox). Or blow it all on a heap of drugs and strippers. Whatevs.

Is that possibility of finally having enough cash to actually open up some options to me worth the possibility of spending the next year wanting to harm myself and others just for something to do?

I actually think it might be. However, I will require strategies for coping in the interim.



* Clearly not the appropriate medical term. Or any sort of medical term, actually. But I like it.
** See *

Given the lack of Internet activities now available to me at work, I have decided that I may take this 'opportunity' and develop my professional skills. After much consideration I felt that the training of new staff would be an ideal area for expansion. Good to put on the ol' CV and that.

As my little protégé is not quite up to taking in the complexities of Family Law (and the fact that I really don't know them. Complexities? Mum has kids, take dad for all he's got….that's how I roll*) we're going to start with the basics - The Telephone.

You talk into the bottom part of it, and noise comes out of the bit you logically put close to your ear. The design of the handset is amazingly perceptive and allows you to both speak AND listen without having to move the device, or yourself, at all. Incredible.

Of course, in my line of work you have to avoid speaking on the phone at all costs. Once to 'take' a call, you must look at the clock and write down the exact time. Then, for the duration of the call you must take accurate notes and later put them on the relevant file, together with a time recording of the call itself. Most complex. Thus, the two best phrases I would suggest be learned are "Please take a message" and "TELL THEM I'M NOT HERE".

*Just kidding with you, obvs. I totally dig this.

Here's my monkey. He sits on my top of my desk, next to my monitor. Our friendship is growing stronger and stronger each day.

The good news is that I should have some form of internet access at my home by the start of next week. The other good news is that my trip to the Telstra Shop only took 35 minutes. Amazing.

The worst possible thing that could ever happen in The World (According To Me) has actually happened.

I had heard reports in the media and even had first-hand accounts of this happening elsewhere. I feared that my time of being unaffected by this horrendous event was limited. And I was right.







My work have banned Facebook.



Oh the humanity, etc.



I am seriously gutted. Now, it appears, I shall have to spend my days actually doing work. Except of course when I am blogging (which is not yet banned). Worse, I am about to waste an entire lunchtime in the den of hell which is also known as the Telstra Shop, attempting to not only negotiate interwebs connection to my house (which I had been avoiding), but get a new mobile plan. I'll probably be back around mid-March, all going well.

An office. Of my very own. Windowless, but no offices in this building have windows, so I do not feel particularly ripped off. I have dreamed for a long, long time of not being in the firing line of the bored receptionists' chat. Of being able argue with my mother over the telephone without resorting to hissing that everyone can hear anyway. Of devoting even more of my working day to Facebooking and blogging without having to click the screen away when someone wanted to use the photocopier located behind me. Uninterrupted Scrabulous! It could not get any better.

The reality is that my office is actually a cell. It is tiny and I am a little claustrophobic. I am now jealous of the shenanigans that I can hear through the door and behind the wall. I used to instigate ALL of that noise. No-one knows, in detail, what I did on my weekend and it's after 1pm! (Admittedly, it was utterly excitement-free, but still).

Worst of all is that no-one is playing Scrabulous with me quickly enough. But still, I have an office.

The 3rd annual Australia Day party was a ripper. I donned my blue singlet, made 80 vodka jelly shots and handed out temporary tattoo's of the Australian flag to each guest. Which, admittedly, is bogan but everyone loved them.

It was so good that six of us decided to do a repeat on the Sunday. Without the vodka. BUT with a pool. We finally finished up at 3.30am on the Monday and it is only today that I am finally satisfied that my brain cells have regenerated to a functioning level.

Woah.

My housemate left on Tuesday for a week long road-trip to Adelaide for the Big Day Out. To be honest it has been lovely to have the house to myself. She will be back on Monday (I think) and in her absence I plan to have my first dry weekend for a very long time. Domesticity, here I come.