The Meeting

Posted on April 3, 2005 by Nils Parker

One of the things I’ve had the most trouble with over the last several years is getting called on the carpet by bosses who were less intelligent than me. It happened again last month as a result of my little faux pas the day after St. Patrick’s Day. My meeting was scheduled for 4:30. That is a baaaaad time for a meeting. That’s firing time. It was a Tuesday, however, and everyone knows Friday is firing day.

My paralegal manager is a 5′ white woman named Sandra. She has no ass, an insatiable nicotine addiction, and a circumference. She fell into her job a couple years ago when the previous paralegal manager had a nervous breakdown and a hysterectomy in the same week. The head of the entire litigation department at that time was new to the firm and had no clue how to run a floor full of paralegals, so she found the paralegal who was highest up the foodchain with the lightest case load. That person was Sandra.

Sandra speaks with a saccharine tone that makes your teeth hurt. It borders on sickeningly maternal but is mistaken for condescension by those in the department who lack the self-esteem to realize how much smarter they are than she is. I personally don’t feel like her tone is the product of condescension, I think it’s more a desire to come off as everyone’s friend and to avoid conflict at all costs. I can, and have for years, seen right through her act. I’m pretty sure she knows that I can see through her and I’m pretty sure that’s a dynamic that is going to make this meeting even more fun.

The meeting was scheduled for 4:30. I ambled in at 10 to 5. I wasn’t late on purpose or anything, I was just busy. Unfortuntately, it never seems to sink into Sandra’s head that being busy equals making money for the firm. So the first thing she says to me after I close the office door and sit down is that I’m “not above the rules.”

“DrunkRex,” she says, “when I schedule a meeting with you for a pacific time, you have to show up at the scheduled time.” First of all, I don’t have to do anything when you tell me to. My bosses have the letters “j” and “d” after their names and they, for goddamn sure, don’t say “pacific” when they mean “specific” you bulbous whitetrash retard. Of course I didn’t say that to her…this time. But I was thinking it as she launched into her HR-sponsored speech on professional responsibility and on-the-job conduct.

I don’t remember anything she said. I only remember snippets of phrases. Snippets like “drinking problem” and “prioritizing your responsibilities” and “reputation of The Firm.” They had no meaning for me, so I ignored them and concentrated on visualizing the vodka tonic I was going to order when I finished with this meeting.

The one thing I do remember was the idle threat as I got up to leave. “DrunkRex, I can find out if any of those things you said to the waitress are true. I can do it anytime I want. Just know that.” It was a total bluff. Anyone even remotely familiar with office politics can recognize that. I gave her the requisite 3 second consideration so she could feel like she was in charge, rolled my eyes as I said “good evening,” and walked back to my office.

I hate stupid people.

This entry was posted in Blog. Bookmark the permalink.

The Meeting

48 Responses to The Meeting

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Latest Tweets

Recent Posts

Meta

Categories

Archives