And its only WEDNESDAY...

For those of you who wonder why, when I’m asked at parties or in bars what I do for a living, I usually reply “oh this and that” and immediately flip the script with a quick “what about you?”, I am now offering a tiny glimpse into my daily life here in the transitional phase- the place where I earn my living for the time being until I can get paid to do what I was born to do- and, no, its not professional chocolate cake eating! The truth is, I simply cannot explain in any socially acceptable amount of time, the current goings on of my (ahem) professional life.

As an aside, recently after I casually replied “oh this and that” at a party, the person I was talking to immediately went into a long elaborate story about how I was clearly an assassin for the mafia, and that is why I am so coy when asked my occupation. I did not correct him. As a result there are a few Brooklyn residents who now fear me…

Anyhoo, here is a break-down of just some of the events which have shaken down in my office this week. The reason I feel comfortable disclosing these embarrassing details is that I truly love and respect my co-workers (all of whom are over 70) as much as if they were my own grandmothers, and they all, despite their shortcomings, are amazing ladies, each with a great sense of humor. When I laugh, we all laugh.

MONDAY: 89 year old co-worker mentions that she has an upset stomach, and had to make an emergency trip to the bathroom. Within moments I discover a foul odor wafting through the hall, and a mysterious brown substance on the floor trailing out of the bathroom. I casually ask “what’s on the floor”, although I am fully aware of what has happened. Pandemonium ensues, Lysol is sprayed abundantly, trash is removed, and I cower in my office with an ideal clamp on my nose. (It should be noted that this is the second time in 2 months that someone has had such an accident and has cused a poop induced frenzy in the office) ALSO TODAY- 78 year old secretary has gotten new dentures. She cannot pronounce S’s. (Her last set lasted her 30 years I am told, but when her bottom tooth fell out last month, and I was required to crawl under her desk to retrieve it, she decided to get a new set. Until today she had glued it back in, but it was crooked.)

TUESDAY: 74 year old office helper (she answers phones, tidies up, and makes copies) has been called in for emergency cleaning (see Monday’s event). Now I am free to drink water and pee at my leisure. While vacuuming in the hall I hear her announce, apparently to herself, that she has gotten her fingers stuck in a mouse intended glue trap. “Oh boy!” she exclaims, “Now I know what the mice have to go through.” Right, that is exactly what the mice go through.

WEDNESDAY: My 78 year old secretary comes into my office this afternoon after having a smoke and gives me a goofy look. She then brings to my attention the fact that she is wearing two different shoes. Indeed she is. They are not similar. I later overhear her asking the other attorney while passing in the hall, to please excuse her, she’s limping because one of her shoes have more of a heel than the other. I giggle hysterically to myself. Later I overhear the ladies in the front office fervently discussing their preference for "fanny packs" over shoulder bags.