This week I had the Monday of all Mondays. And it was actually a Tuesday.
Thanks to the long Memorial Day weekend, Tuesday was my Monday. And yes, my billable hours are going to suffer for that. But let's not think about that right now.
When we got home from the coast, instead of finding a happy envelope containing my bar card waiting for me, I found a sad, wrinkled, wet and waterstained envelope containing my returned bar application. I'm not even sure why the post office returned it. It had nothing on it telling me what was wrong with it! I was so mad! This was the second time it had been returned to me (the first time, I didn't put enough postage).
So on my Tuesday-Monday I decided to hand deliver my application on my way to the office. After scouring the block where the bar association was supposed to be and walking into wrong buildings for like 10 minutes, I found the bar association across the street, marked clearly by a sign with big bold letters. Ooops. Dur.
I crossed the street and walked into the building. Then I got into the wrong set of elevators and ended up on an entirely wrong floor. I finally made my way back to the lobby where I eventually found the elevator that would take me to the correct floor. I marched proudly into the bar association office in my slacks and sneakers and then, not so proudly, handed over my still-wet and water stained bar application.
When I handed the receptionist my application, I couldn't for the life of me remember the word for "wet." I looked at her and said, "Sorry my application is..... uh.... watery." She looked across the table at the weird girl in green sneakers (that would be me) and probably mistook me for a legal messenger (but at least I didn't smell like one- man why do they all stink? And what's up with their weird bags?).
I finally made it to my office after stopping at Starbucks and spilling coffee down my pants. I plopped down in my office chair and not one second later an associate storms in and (frantically) asks, "Hey, can I see your appendix? Where's your appendix?"
What? I stared at him blankly for a second trying to process his statement. "You want to see my appendix? You mean like this one?" I point to my abdomen where I believe my appendix to be. He looks at me all crazy like then roars a horrendous laugh out of the gaping hole in his contorted face. "No wierdo. I need to see the appendix to your motion for reconsideration because I'm preparing one too and I want to see what yours looks like."
Oh yeah. THAT APPENDIX! Me = laughing stock of the 22nd floor office suite.
So that was my Non-Monday Monday. Phew.
Oh yeah, this is the icing on the cake: at one point in the day I was on a semi-important phone call with one of our experts. We started to discuss the case and the science that would support our position on a liability issue. He starts to say something really important but I can't find a pen to jot the information down. I have the phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder and I'm using two hands to surf around the top of the desk, pushing stacks of paper everywhich way to locate that DANG PEN. I give up and open my "pen" drawer where I find one blue, one red and one green CRAYON. Don't ask why I have crayons in my desk.
So yes, I took down a super important note with a flashy blue crayon. I couldn't help smiling from ear to ear each time I pressed the blue tip to my notepad. In fact, I think I should use crayon more often....I wonder what the partners would think if I handed them a note in blue crayon?