LJ Idol 15: It's Not Paranoia if They're Really Out to Get You.

[bewize]

Warning: I'm not in the best head space at the moment. This entry contains some bad language and a lot of hopelessness and helplessness. Welcome to my life.

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"I just feel kinda bad. All this time, I thought you were cracking up. Instead, you were right."

This is what a friend of mine told me today.

Allow me to explain.

When I was in college, I loved my majors. I doubled in political science and history and spent four years learning about the wonders of civilizations past, and the movements and underpinnings that create civilization as I know it. It was a hard course of study, but I reveled in it.

Sure, I had to work hard, but I was fully capable of working hard and doing well.

I loved a good challenge.

"Bewize, can you come into my office?"

"Sure thing, Boss. Be right there." I wasn't even that worried. Sure, I slept like crap last night because I dreamt about work. Sure, I was dreading going into the office today. But who wasn't? It was a Monday. Worse, it was a Monday after a vacation. The only vacation I took all year last year.

"Bewize, I'm afraid we have a problem."

There's always a problem.

The problem with a liberal arts degree is that it usually isn't that practical. I mean, sure I was now qualified to think. Great. Who wants to pay me for that? Would you like fries with that?

My sophomore year, I took a job in a law firm. I hated it. I hated it.

But, I've always had a masochistic streak in me.

I went very still and took a seat on the leather sofa. I crossed my legs and set down my pen and pad of paper. "What's wrong?"

"I'm having some serious issues with your billing practices."

"Okay."

"I want you to know that I very well may have to let you go."

"Okay."

"You're very calm about this."

"Would you prefer I have a hysterical breakdown?"

I must have been out of my mind.

I took the first job I was offered – working at a law firm. It was a sole practitioner in wills, trusts and estates. I loved it. I loved it.

"Bewize, you should go on to law school. You'd be great at it!"

"You think so, Cool Boss?"

"I do. I'll write you a letter of recommendation. I know the Dean!"

Everything happened so fast. I applied, I was accepted, I won a scholarship.

Done deal, right? Here I was, law school bound. I would be great at it! I would.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

No idea…

"Your billing seems disproportionate with the work you've got."

"I'm not sure what you mean? I billed the required 2,000 hours."

"I just think you were stretching."

"Well, I admit I was liberally billing, but that's because you told me to. Remember when I was in here in September and you ripped my head from my body and told me to bill 2,000 hours? No matter what? Come hell or high water? Period? The end?"

"I don't want to get into proportioning blame."

It was all my fault.

I hated law school. I hated it. But then I let a professor talk me into doing a externship with Legal Aid.

I loved it. I loved it. I got to work with clients, who had real problems. I got to help them and sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I could make it better for them.

My supervisor loved me. She said I showed a lot of promise.

Then she introduced me to Crazy Boss.

I was doomed.

"Okay. How do you want to discuss my billing if I'm not allowed to discuss the circumstances in which I billed? And need I point out that I only have six cases? Normally, associates have closer to 50."

"Do you see what you're doing? I don't want to go down that path."

"I’m sorry, but we're going to."

"Fine, but tomorrow. I'm about to leave today. And I want you to spend some time thinking about this."

"But only freak out a little bit."

Crazy Boss was crazy. In the two years I worked at that firm, I was screamed at, humiliated, berated, belittled, and worked to death.

I gained 50 pounds. I drank every day. Everyone I know begged me to find a new job.

But I just wasn't doing it right. Surely, if I worked hard enough, I would get it right. Surely.

I mean, so Crazy Boss threw things – he was upset. So, he got banned from the court house – he was upset. So, he used to make us close the blinds and go through the trash so They wouldn't know what we were doing – he was… well, he was crazy.

Then came the final straw.

"Bewize, I think we should consider whether or not you have a future at this firm."

"When you come in tomorrow, we'll meet. I'd like for you to give me a list of reasons that I shouldn't let you go. I've discussed this with your coworkers."

"I don't know what you want me to say… I really don't know what to say to that."

"Perhaps the problem is me. Perhaps I was too insistent on you getting your hours. Maybe there really just isn't enough work for you."

"That doesn't help me at all."

"No, it doesn't."

I don't know what to do.

I quit working for Crazy Boss when he accused me of being on drugs. He also told me I was lazy, and this was the Monday after I'd spent 36 consecutive hours at work the week before, and worked over the weekend.

Right. I was lazy. I was obviously mentally unbalanced.

"I'm not on drugs."

"Neither am I."

"Should you be?"

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"I think you know exactly what I mean by that."

"Are you okay? Well, as okay as you can be given the circumstances?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

This is just a job. I'm not dying. No one I love is dying. Whatever happens, it will be okay.

A few hours after this conversation, I heard about the Partners' Meeting and I heard about the 10% let go plan. I also heard about the two Partners who left the firm this afternoon.

I heard about all of this and I felt… something.

I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop so long that it's almost a relief that it finally has. I'm not dumb. I've seen the writing on the wall for the past three months.

But the past really does haunt you.

"I just feel kinda bad. All this time, I thought you were cracking up. Instead, you were right."

"Yeah."

"I mean, I just thought you were fucked up in the head thanks to that last asshole."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean. You have the worst luck when it comes to bosses."

"I do."

"What are you going to do?"

I was unemployed for three months. I walked out. I can't believe I walked out. But what choice did I have?

I couldn't do that anymore. I couldn't. So I didn't.

And then I found this job. It was like an answer to my prayers.

Some answer.

"What are you going to do?"

I'm single and live alone. I have almost $75,000 of student debt. I depleted my savings when I was unemployed before.

"My default position, Bewize, is to keep you. I just want to hear your thoughts on the situation before I decide."

I've made myself sick for the past three months trying to make my hours. I haven't liked a job I've held since 2004. I can no longer trust my oh-so-chatty coworkers.

So tell me. What am I supposed to do?

Because I'm completely clueless. All I know is that I was right. I was right to feel paranoid.

I guess that's my fucking consolation prize.

This entry was written in response to the therealljidol Challenge 15: Cracking Up. There will be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Comments

[dabhug.livejournal.com]

Reading this I was on the verge of cracking up, myself.

I mean that in a good way. This is so real to me.

I like the way you've laid this out, it adds to the realness, I think.

Good job.