(Because, I mean, if I have to be in the office on a beautiful Saturday, I'm damn well going to bitch about it!)
A. It's a beautiful day, on which I should be sitting on various porches drinking various alcoholic beverages, but instead am in the office, because I had a SHITTY SHITTY week, in which I drove all over creation, taking depositions of everybody in the whole world about everything under the sun (seriously. I had a garden-variety personal injury case, a bizarre neighbor dispute, a products-liability claim, and a construction case. It was like smashing one semester of torts and contracts into one week. OUCH.), who irritated the crap out of me in every possible way, and now I have a hundred and fifty-two deposition summaries to write. The only fun thing about that is getting to describe the people I depose. It's kind of a thing I pride myself on, what with this whole delusion that I'm a "writer." Plus, it greatly amuses my partners to get summaries that describe the husband/wife plaintiffs as "Jack Sprat and his wife." Once they figure out who the hell Jack Sprat actually is.
B. If one more not-terribly-attractive, only-vaguely-interesting guy drops one more random, awkward, totally forced reference to his "girlfriend" into the middle of an INTERVIEW, for chrissake, I'm going to punch him. I'M NOT INTERESTED IN YOU, stupid, I'm just faking it because I'm stuck here talking to you for at least the next five minutes so at least you don't feel bad about being rushed out the door after ten minutes because I've already decided you're too moronic to hire. Seriously, what is this? I've never been accused of being anything even close to a maneater (It took me practically a month to work up the nerve to even squeak "hi" to the last boy I had a crush on!), so I do not understand in the slightest why these people think they need to inform me of their "taken" status. Then again, to be fair, perhaps it's not that they think I'm hitting on them, perhaps they're just so amazed that they actually have convinced some poor girl to put up with their boring asses that they have to talk about it every five seconds. Either way - I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT. This is an interview about YOU. for a JOB. not a date. Playing up the fact that you're a hopelessly co-dependent person who can't go ten minutes without babbling about your extra-appendage of a girlfriend is just going to convince me that you're too immature to hire.
C. I just took my car to get washed for the third time in five days because it is ONCE AGAIN covered in an inch of pollen and bird droppings. Dude, I get it. It's spring. NOW GET IT OFF MY CAR.
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