Project 365: Week Two

This week was a lot of work. I put in a lot of hours at work and then came home to work on my house. But I ended the week with a dent in my work to do list and a freshly painted and redecorated second bedroom. I'll take it.

Day 10: Small and Stealthy
Day 11: Today It Snowed
Day 12: Retro
Day 13: Almost the Highlight of My Day
Day 14: Self Reflection
Day 15: Stained Glass
Day 16: Man Cave

Needy

I've been at my new job for almost two months now. Two months doesn't seem like that much time, but I feel like a veteran paralegal at this point. I've done more substantive work than I had done at my previous job in the six months leading up to my departure.

I hit the ground running at my new firm. I don't think I left before 5:30 a single day my first week and was getting in a full 30 minutes earlier than I had been at my old job. They were long days. They still are. But they absolutely fly by. I love it when my work days fly by. At my former job, I used to get excited when the clock struck 3 p.m. It meant only two more hours until I could go home. Now, I often look at the clock surprised to see that 3 p.m. is long gone.

This is in no way a complaint. I love being this busy.

The thing that I've found most surprising about my new job is that I'm actually good at it. I say that only because I didn't do a lot at my last job. My tasks were those that I felt anyone could do. I didn't need any sort of special skill or training. I was doing the kind of work I had been doing when I first started. But it was three years after I started. I wasn't using my brain. And I really missed using my brain. So much so, that I often times questioned if it still worked.

That was one of the beautiful surprises of my new job. I jumped in and was able to start working and doing more complicated tasks than I had been in years. Not only was I doing what was asked of me though. I was improving upon the way that my paralegal predecessors had done things. I was contributing and making things better for the attorneys I worked with. I felt appreciated. I felt smart. And I felt needed. There is no greater feeling than I get from doing my job than feeling needed.

Tomorrow though will be a different story. There will be no question that I'm needed. Not long before I left work on Friday afternoon, I learned that as of tomorrow, I'm the only person doing my job. My fellow paralegal won't be returning to work. The most I can do is continue doing the best job I can and hope that I'll live up to my veteran title. Even if it is a title I didn't think I'd have less than two months in.

Between Ten and Twenty-Nine

I rushed out of work yesterday hoping I didn't leave too late to catch the 6:44 train home. I stepped on the elevator and sighed, as I always do, when it stopped three floors below to let on another passenger. My office is on the 50th floor, so both coming and going to work sometimes takes longer than I expect.

Thankfully, the bank of elevators I take is express from the lobby to 10th floor, and then the 10th through 29th, and 29th through the 39th floors. It's really only those 11 floors between 39 and 50 that delay me because it's a rarity that the elevators stop on 10 or twenty-nine. And I long ago gave up leaving right at 5:00 p.m. It takes forever just to get to the 40th floor.

Once my fellow passenger got on, the doors closed and we began our descent past the 39th floor. I was thankful it was express from there to the lobby. I'd have to walk fast, but I'd have plenty of time to catch my train.

But then the elevator started to unsteadily slow.

And then it stopped.

And then the electronic floor indicator flashed "10". But the doors didn't open.

And then it flashed "29". But we hadn't moved.

And then it flashed "--". So I started to get a little nervous.

My fellow passenger and I looked at one another. He expressed his frustration at being stuck and kept pushing the button for the lobby, hoping that could give us momentum in one direction or another.

Nothing. It wouldn't do anything. The button wouldn't light up. Nothing registered. We just sat there in the elevator hoovering somewhere between 10 and twenty-nine.

I've heard stories of my co-workers getting stuck in the elevators. One of my fellow paralegals was once stuck between 50 and 51 for four hours - on a Sunday. It seems not a week goes by that the maintenance crew isn't working on an elevator in my firm's lobby. It's the price we pay for the penthouse view. Well that and probably the actual rental price for the penthouse view.

As I and my fellow elevator passenger hung there in the balance, I momentarily thought about free falling anywhere from 10 to 29 stories. I didn't want to go there, but that's where my brain went. Really, I reasoned, it didn't matter. The 19 floor difference wouldn't factor because the first 10 floors would be enough to do me in. I became acutely aware of the slightest sensation of movement at my feet. And then because I didn't want my fellow passenger watch me begin to freak the 'eff out, I pushed the emergency response button.

A women with a very kind-sounding voice responded immediately and asked what the problem was. I explained our lack of movement. She apologized and then worked her magic. The elevator slowly began to rise.

"You should see the doors open in a moment," she said over the intercom.

Sure enough, the elevator stopped on 41, the doors opened and I explained to the nice elevator lady that all seemed to be working just fine now, thank you. She apologized again and our elevator descended once again to the lobby. My fellow passenger and I both said we hoped we would be able to make our respective trains after this untimely delay. As he and I finally exited the elevator I wished him good luck in catching his train, but honestly what I really wanted to say was "HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS GOOD I AM SO GLAD WE'RE ON THE GROUND!" I guess making my train was good enough.

Wishin' and Hopin' and Prayin'

It's Thursday night, and all I can do is think about tomorrow and how I hope, I hope, I hope I can end the day without having to work during the coming blessed three-day weekend. I hope.

It's been a week of late work nights. At least they were late work nights at home though. There's something about working in my PJs while sitting by an open window that makes it a littler easier to bear. Well that and overtime pay. But still, I've been working until past 10:30 p.m. and hoping that my dutiful work ethic will mean I won't need to bill a single minute until Tuesday.

For now though, since I don't fully know what tomorrow will bring I'm focusing on the plans I can make for my three-day weekend. I hoping to hit up a local farmer's market, do some fishing with Mike, read my new book, wander downtown to take some photos, run, maybe visit the new wing of the art museum and go out to dinner with friends. I've got a lot I'd like to do. I just hope work doesn't end up being something I have to do.

What about you? What are you most excited for this coming weekend?

Verdict

We got the word. I work for really good attorneys, and our judge didn't need a trial to determine the other side had no merits for their argument. In short, no trial. My life will resume as regularly scheduled.

I must have been incredibly exhausted at the mere thought of trial because I went home last night, made dinner and then decided I was going to rest my eyes for about five minutes. That five minutes turned into three hours, and I eventually gave into the slumber and went to bed. Essentially, I went to bed at 7:30 p.m. So if this is my life resuming as regularly scheduled, bring on the satin sheets and comfy pajamas!

Here Comes the Sun (dodo do do..)

The great thing about working weekends and 10+ hours days is that when I get a night off the free time seemingly spans an eternity.

I got home from work at 6 p.m. tonight and I didn't have to jump back online to continue working. Not tonight. Tonight was mine to do whatever I wanted.

As a bonus, tonight was the first night in three days where I didn't leave work under cloudy, rainy skies. Chicago was as sunny as could be. I didn't leave my office building from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., so I decided a post work run was in order. Yeah, that's right. Running. I still do that on occasion. And if you're curious like my mom was, no, I didn't keep my promise to myself. I did run the Shuffle on a treadmill, but I never did get in that 5 mile outdoor run. It was partially because my back started hurting again after my indoor 5 mile run. Also, I just didn't have it in me. I'd lost my steam by the time the following weekend rolled around - not to mention the weather still wasn't cooperating.

I am however running a 5k race this Sunday. My training, in terms of running, has been minimal. I've been getting more use out of the ellipticals and free weights at my gym. But today, today was a day for running.

When I got home, I right away put on my running clothes and grabbed my iPod. I told myself it would be a nice, easy 2 mile run. When I started running, I thought my pace felt a little fast, but I felt good so I kept it up. And I continued to keep it up to the end.

Sadly because I counted on it being an easy run, I didn't really try to track my time. I did the best thing I could - I added the time of all the songs I ran to.

Total: 21:24 or a 10:42 mile. But actually, it's less! The first song I ran to, I think I started running about 30 seconds to a minute in, so really my pace was more like a 10:30 or 10:15 min/mi pace. That's pretty good for a girl who hasn't run all that much as of late.

I'm not sure if I'm setting an official goal for my Sunday morning race, but I'd really, really like to come in under 33 minutes. I'm thinking it's doable. You know, as long as it doesn't snow.

Trials and Tribulations

Around this time last year I did not like my job. Disagreements with a few attorneys lead to serious questions about my abilities, my dedication and even my continued employment with the firm. In the eyes of a few influential people I had dropped the ball during the show stopper - during a time when my team was preparing for trial. Trial's the time when a young paralegal just starting out can really make a name for herself. I did, just not in the good way.

Within the span of two days, 80 percent of the work that I had done since my employment date meant nothing. I found myself at ground zero and realizing that any reputation I had built as a smart, hard-working paralegal had been erased. It would take time to regain confidence in me.

Fast forward a year later and I find myself in a similar situation. I'm with a different set of attorneys but we are preparing for trial. I'm working hard. I'm putting in hours. (I even worked on Easter.) I'm doing everything in my power to make sure that when this trial is over (if it happens) I will have proved something. I will prove that I am smart. I am dedicated. And it was one hell of a good idea to keep me around.

This is all to say that blog posting will be light until this trial is over. I'll try to write but my personal life has been sorely lacking over the past week. I am falling into the trap of eating out, not working out and sleeping poorly. Not much I can do now, except grin and bear it. I just hope you can bear with(out) me.

Rewinding the Past

As I was preparing for my fiddle three class (take two) last night, I stumbled upon a little bit of my past. We don't get sheet music for fiddle three, so we're encouraged to bring recorders to tape the song and play it back in the coming week while practicing our tune. I have a small tape recorder I have had for years now. I think it was given to me as a college graduation present from an editor of mine.

I cued up the tape and let it run for a bit. After a little bit of static, the tape cut and suddenly my recorder sounded with the roar of cheering and hollering over the results of a roll call vote. I knew instantly what it was. My coverage of the Reed City bond vote of 2004. This is a story I covered for months and probably spent more time on than anything else I covered in my two-and-a-half-year reporting career.

I was instantly transported back to that night. For me, it was the culmination of hours of sitting through school board meetings, talking with teachers, talking with students, touring the facilities and listening to people in the community say painstakingly that as much as they wanted to give their kids a new school, it just wasn't in their budget. That same year, Reed City had lost hundreds of manufacturing jobs - the backbone of the community - to Mexico and China. In the end, the bond passed by less than 30 votes. The whooping and hollering on the tape was the result of that board's and those parents' hard work to get their kids and the district a new school.

What followed next on the tape was the sound of my own voice. It was my congratulations to members of the school board as well as my interview with the district superintendent. I didn't usually tape my interviews, but I considered this to be such a big story that I didn't want to miss a thing.

It was weird to hear my voice, even weirder to be back in that moment. I remember being nervous for the outcome of that vote because I had become so engrossed in the lives of these people. It really was what I considered to be my biggest story as a young, fresh faced reporter. And looking back, I still am very proud of the work I did on that issue. It was a a few years ago now, but I remembered for a moment how great it was to be terribly invested in my job which really was being invested in the community I served. Sure, reporting in small town America was far from glamorous. I covered more events where the main feature was a tractor pull than I care to admit. But still, it was fun. And there is still a part of me that is sad my business card no longer reads reporter.

I rewound that tape and briefly thought about how after that night's fiddle class I wouldn't have portions of that tape any more. But I figured that didn't matter. because my business card no longer reads reporter.

Solitary Confinement

When I was a journalist I often worked alone. I interviewed my own sources, I followed my own leads and I wrote my own stories. It was a solitary process I undertook most times in a newsroom of people going through their own similar solitary process. It was only when it came time to printing my words on paper that my editor intervened. He or she would read my story, make suggested edits or suggest calling another source and send it back to me. At that point, it was then my job to fix my story, again on my own.

I am now in a career that requires a lot more of a collaborative effort, and I'm learning I prefer more of a solitary process.

Timing

I was right. It was a good thing I already made my decision about work versus Morocco because my case received a trial date. It's a four week trial beginning May 5. I leave for Morocco on May 12. I had a feeling these dates would overlap and they most certainly do.

When I first saw this schedule my heart sank. I thought it meant I would be booted from the trial process almost entirely - on a case I have spent the last 18 months of my working career focused on. Today I learned that is not necessarily how this may play out. The likely scenario is that I'll work 12 hour-plus days prepping for trial throughout the month of April and then spend a week or two in San Francisco at the trial, fly home for a day and then head to Morocco for a two-week vacation.

It will be a whirlwind. I am dizzy thinking about it now. I like travel but don't really consider myself a jet-set girl. That might change, but only for May 2008. For June 2008, I'll probably be a hermit.

Career Opportunity

I learned today that I do choose my life over work. I've always said that I am that person, but I've been tested on that statement lately and as of today, I know I am the type of person who chooses her life.

A co-worker of mine approached me a few months ago with a unique travel adventure - 13 days in Morocco this coming May. We'd have our own local guide, our own driver and everything already arranged. All I had to do is show up and have fun. Oh, and belly dance on night on the shores of Morocco by the light of a full moon. It is such an amazing trip I couldn't pass it up, nor could I stop talking about it. As a result, I've recruited three friends to join me on this trip. To take two weeks off work wouldn't be easy, but I knew this trip was at a time where work should not interfere.

A few weeks ago, I learned that the judge assigned to my big, time-consuming case was switching divisions. That meant a new judge for us with his own new schedule. I had no idea when he's have time to fit in our four-week trial set to being in a little over a month. Regardless of the schedule he had, I was certain our previous trial date of Feb. 25 would not stick.

I still don't know when our trial will be, but things are not looking good. Our firm is trying to create a schedule to submit to the judge. It is something unfortunately that will have to accommodate for at least a half dozen people's schedules. We are pushing for an April trial. The other parties said June, so the compromise inevitably will be May when I plan to be in Morocco.

The good thing about my case is I am not the only paralegal on it, so someone can take my place. This is a case I have been on since the first day it came to the firm. It something I have dedicated more time to than I'd ever care to admit, so just giving it away didn't sit well with me. Plus I've been in this profession for about a year and a half now. I know the market right now is in demand for paralegals with few years work experience and some trial experience on their resume. Needless to say, this trial will be a boost for my career.

The moment I thought about backing out though, my friends came to mind. I talked three amazing women into joining me on this trip. They would not be going if it were not for me, and based on a few conversations, I was pretty sure they'd back out if I did. And then if we all did, the number of people on the trip would dwindle from seven to three, and the trip can't go on with less than four people. It was a domino effect I felt weighing on my shoulders the second my mind wandered down that path.

So I had to make a choice - my personal life or my career. And as you know from the beginning of this post, I chose the trip. When talking about my options with a fellow coworker, I was able to boil it down to this: there will be more trials, but this will be my only chance to go to Morocco. The country will be there for a long time obviously, but this trip with these great women, will not happen again and I cannot not imagine not being there.


* A complete side note: I began training for the Shamrock Shuffle today. I ran two miles in 23 minutes. I know that is not fast, but it's also not a bad place to start.

Where's The Beef?

Outside my door when I came home from work today was a giant Styrofoam box. However, I already knew what was inside it: meat. I should explain.

My office Christmas party was last week. I did not attend. I did, however, receive a text message from a coworker mid-party informing me I won meat. Yes, meat. My firm raffles off a lot of prizes at the annual Christmas party: $200 gift certificates, overnight stays in five star hotels downtown, airlines tickets.... and meat. And I won the meat. In a twist of irony, I did not attend the Christmas party because my stomach was in knots, so the thought of pounds of meat heading my way did not help my cause.

I opened the giant Styrofoam box and began surveying my winnings (with Oscar watching closely nearby). When all was said and done, I received:

- two top sirloin steaks

- two beef tenderloin steaks

- four ground beef burgers

- four boneless chicken breasts

- six stuffed baked potatoes

- one chocolate cake

It needs to be said that I am not a vegetarian, but I eat like one. I will have the occasional meat dish, but usually only if it's prepared for me, not by me. My dinners consist mainly of rices, beans, vegetables, cheeses or sometimes just a bag of popcorn. I can spend $100 easily at the grocery store on snack foods I turns into "dinners." To have all this meat in my house now is a bit overwhelming. So overwhelming that instead of busting into one of my many meat options tonight for dinner, I made nachos with cheese, onions, spinach and salsa. (No meat.) Maybe I'll make something tomorrow, but until then, my meat will continue to take up about two-thirds of my freezer's space.

A Whole Latte Money

My office distributes paychecks on the first and 15th of every month. Needless to say checking my bank account balance online around that time is as exciting as it gets. This Friday, though, I have reason to be extra excited. December 15th is not just any payday, it’s the payday when I will receive my annual bonus.

When I was hired at the firm in the summer of 2006, my recruiter informed me that the firm’s salaries are not top of the pay scale, but it tends to make up the difference come bonus time. Last year, I had only worked for the firm about six months when bonus day rolled around. I did not expect much. What I received was a little less than five grand (before taxes). Needless to say, I was floored. I have not heard anything about the firm being stingy this year, so I’m planning to receive a sizable chunk of change in about four days.

Money has concerned me for as long as I can remember. I moved to Chicago on a journalist’s salary and less than three months in found myself with mounting debt and a job that would never allow me to make ends meet. Last year, when I finally began making what I consider to be a livable wage, I vowed that I would not allow my influx of cash to be spent on venti lattes and bags of shoes. This is not to say I didn’t buy the occasional latte or pricy shoe, because I did. But I also did get very serious about getting my finances under control. I paid off my credit card, put a decent chunk of money in savings and started contributing 10 percent of my paycheck to a 401K. I am in better financial shape right now than I have ever been, and to me that’s worth more than all the venti lattes in Chicago.

As I said, I was surprised by first bonus. I could have justified splurging on a few needless, pricy items for myself since most of my bonus was money I had not banked on. Instead, I started my fiscal year right. Half of my bonus went to my credit card balance and the other half I used to open a high-interest savings account.

Since I have an idea of what I can expect to receive this year, I’m planning. And as a pat on the back to myself, I’m happy to say about half of my 2007 bonus will be spent on a spring trip to Morocco. A smaller portion will be used to pay off the few odds and ends on my credit card and an even smaller portion will be going toward my savings to round it up to nice even number. After Christmas presents and repairing my violin, I’m planning to still have a couple hundred extra for whatever. I already have a feeling a portion of that whatever is left (ok, most of it) may be spent on shoes… and at least one venti latte.

Time's A Wastin'

I took this past Friday off work. I called in sick because I thought I might be getting sick (and I have a few sick days to use before New Years rolls around). Turns out I was just a little more tired than usual. I had a self-made, three-day weekend, and yet tonight I repeatedly had to convince myself that it was in fact Sunday night. I had an extra day tacked onto my weekend, but it passed by as quickly as any other. I’ve also reminded myself several times tonight that this coming Thursday is Thanksgiving. How can it be Thanksgiving? Didn’t November just start? I know the sun is now setting in Chicago at 4:30 p.m., but it can’t be this late in the year already -although, any storefront these days would have me believe it is Dec. 24. Well the good news is this week will be another short week followed by another long weekend. I’m hoping though the coming weekend might feel a little more extended than this one, otherwise before I know it, it will be New Years and I won't have used any of my remaining sick days.

Hangry

My co-worker Maggie introduced the word hangry to me a while ago, and I have since used it many a time over like it's my own. It is the perfect word to describe the feeling of being both hungry and angry - mainly angry because you are hungry. I am not hangry at the moment, but foresee this coming later in the day.

I didn't pack my lunch this morning because I got dinner here last night. It was a yummy pasta dish with white wine sauce, pine nuts and shitake mushrooms with garlic mashed potatoes on the side. The portion was huge, so instead of gorging myself I chose to save the remnants for lunch today.

Only someone else had other plans.

When I went into our cafe this morning to place my mid-afternoon snack in the fridge, my pasta was gone. Gone! Sometime between 7:30 p.m. last night and 9 a.m. this morning my pasta vanished. I don't know where it went or who might have taken it, but I am enraged. I refuse to eat only garlic mashed potatoes and black cherry yogurt today, so I will be buying lunch against my will. And I am certain that will create a whole new kind of hangry.

Lesson learned, it's better to gorge.

I'm Back!

Today was an unusual day at work. No, I did not break my previous staying-late record (it's 9:30 p.m. by the way). I actually left work before 6 p.m.! My bum was on the train and pulling out of Ogilvie Transportation Center by 5:50 p.m.

This happened for one reason and one reason only. My trial got kicked. What was to be an early November trial date is now a late February trial date. And what was to be a fall of late nights and weekends at the office will now be a winter of late nights and weekends at the office. I love the fall, so a winter of work sounds much more appealing.

The new date does not mean I won't have work to do. There is still plenty my team needs to do in order to prepare for trial. However it does mean that every project I take on over the next three months not have a deadline of 5 minutes ago.

It also means that for those of you who have tried to get a hold of me at a reasonable hour as of late, I might actually be able to take your calls now... at least for the next three months.

The Daily Bread

I learned tonight that GM union employees went on strike. My sister called to inform me of this tidbit of news. Any UAW or GM activity has always been important to my family because our breadwinner's checks came from General Motors.

My dad has worked for GM (or divisions thereof) for more than 30 years. My dad, and to some extent the entire family, has weathered 30 years of talk of strikes, strikes, night shifts, day shifts, evening shifts, the jobs bank, plant closings, buyouts and the threat of no pensions or severance pay upon my dad's departure from the company. Our family has been through all of this many times over (once again, mainly my dad) and after 30 years, I am tired.

I don't want him to work late nights, or walk a picket line or lose his pension. It's always been my hope that once my sister and I were out of the house and his breadwiner title had diminished, he would say good bye to GM, as well as all the perks, and all the hassles that come with it. Because I'm tired, so I figure my dad must be exhausted.

Trial by Fire

I am a little over a year into my new paralegalling profession. And even though I am a newbie by most of my coworkers standards (as well as mine), I have found myself in both a unique and challening position. I am the lead paralegal on a case set to go to trial in a little over month. It's a case worth millions of dollars and has a team consisting of nine lawyers, one other paralegal and myself. All signs point to the fact that I am grossly out numbered.

Being that I've never gone to trial, I don't know what to expect. But all of my fellow paralegals who have been in my shoes keep echoing the same expectation: You're going to put in a ton of hours. Being that I am writing this entry from work at 7:30 p.m. on a Wednesday night, I don't disagree. I can't disagree, being that I actually starting writing this entry when I was at work at 7 p.m. on Sunday.

The light at the end of the tunnel is that the case is set for trial beginning Nov. 5 in sunny San Francisco. However, at this point I just hope I'm not too exhausted to enjoy my first trip to California.

Laziness

Located directly below the firm where I work is another law firm, Lord Bissell. Generally, my co-workers and I who inhabit the top two floors of the building don’t like the Lord Bissell people. We reason they are all lazy, worthless people due to the frequency with which they get on our elevators and take them up or down one floor. They have stairs. They should use them.

There is no quicker way to tick of the residents of the top floors of any building than by getting on an elevator and taking it up one floor when those on floors 50 and 51 still have another six or so to go. Compound the seven floors Lord Bissell rents by the hundreds of employees it has and the number of possible stops between the lobby and the top floors of the building and the result is a floor and a half full of angry legal secretaries, paralegals, associates and partners. Even the mailroom guys at my firm hate Lord Bissell.

Today, however, I was thankful for the laziness that permeates the seven floors of Lord Bissell’s offices.

Tonight was a late night for me. I’m starting off a busy work week and stayed until about 8:30 p.m. hoping to make a dent in my workload.

Around 7:45 p.m. I began wrapping up my day. As the last part of my day, I loaded up my cart and delivered boxes of documents on 51 for attorneys to review first thing in the morning. I dropped off my last box, folded up my cart and headed to 50 via the stairs (because I don’t take the elevator for one floor) to gather my things and call a cab. There was one critical part of my trip down the stairs I didn’t consider until I reached 50 - I left my keycard sitting on an attorney’s desk on 51.

My building is impassable without a keycard. A keycard is needed to get out of the stairwells between floors. To then get into anywhere on my floor, you need a keycard to open the doors. During the day I’ve left my card sitting on my desk before, but there’s so much foot traffic, I’ve never had to wait more than five minutes for someone to let me in. That is a much different story at 7:45 p.m. Most people at my firm are gone and if they are still there, they’re usually holed up in their office or making a B-line for the elevators.

I cried “Oh no!” in the stairwell the second I realized I didn’t have my precious keycard. As I said, we’re on the 51st floor of my building. It provides spectacular views of the city but not the easiest route to the lobby. I knew I was going to be trapped in that stairwell, possibly overnight, if I waited for someone to walk through the doors, so I had to take some kind of action. That action was banging on the door adjacent to my firm’s lobby. I rapped on the door for about 10 minutes, placing my ear to it with the hope of hearing someone in between my incessant banging. No one.

There was no going up, so the only way was down. I began walking down the stairs in my heels stopping at each door, hoping one would be open. 50…49…48… no luck. From our practice building drills, I knew there were floors where I could reenter or call someone in the lobby, but I couldn’t remember how far down they were. Guess I should have paid attention during our drills. 47…46…45… no luck. I kept walking, rationalizing my situation the entire way down. Being the eternal optimist, all I could think was if I did make it down the 51 floors to the lobby, I wouldn’t feel bad about not going to the gym that night. 44…43…42… wait!

I looked a little more closely and tugged on the door. It was open! Floor 42 was my refuge. I had entered the domain of Lord Bissell. Being uncertain where I was, I found the elevators quickly and decided my best course of action was to return to 51 where I was still locked out, but at least I’d be able to see through the glass doors in case someone walked by.

I got back to 51. I noticed there was a phone and called the one person I was almost certain was still there - my paralegal manager. (Good thing I just recently had my six-month review, so this incident might be forgotten by my next review.) My manager laughed at my predicament and then came and let me in.

I learn from all this that you can count on the Lord Bissell people being lazy. If the person who had walked through that door on 42 last had taken the effort to shut it, I may have walked all the way down to the lobby. I guess this means tomorrow when the Lord Bissell people stop me on my elevator ride up no less than five times, I should keep my audible sigh to myself. But only tomorrow. By Wednesday I’ll be back to my state of continual annoyance with those lazy Lord Bissell people.

Quittin' Time

Today I learned that Judge Stephen E. Walter served as Chief Justice in Lake County, Illinois in 1994 and 1996. It is my guess that these two years served one of two functions that lead to Judge Walter’s retirement announcement on Oct. 4. Either he felt no need to continue his career much longer after having reached such a prestigious position or his two years as cheif served to be so stressful it catapulted him into retirement.

You may wonder why all this matters to me. Well you see, it’s of great importance to me. Judge Walter is the judge who was to preside over a case I am on. The trial was scheduled to begin Oct. 23. Judge Walter's last day is Nov. 1.

Being on trial is hectic and frantic and full of deadlines which must be met. Being on trial is why I put in 12 hours of work last weekend and was never home before sunset all last week. Judge Walter had scheduled our trial to last six weeks, but not continuously - more of an intermittent schedule. That meant Judge Walter had destined my co-workers and me to a fall in Waukegan, Illinois. (It’s not lovely there this or most any time of the year.)

But seeing as how you can't cram a six-week schedule into one week, chances are good that trial is not anywhere in the immediate future for me. It also means I can have my nights and weekends back and won't be spending the coming months in Waukegan.

Because of this I wish Judge Walter the happiest of retirements. He has no plans, which I found out thanks to this Web site, but I imagine he will use it to pursue some of his hobbies - ”playing golf, reading, and listening to all types of music.”