Every time my supervisor wants to call a meeting, he should just send around an email saying, “So, we’re giving you even more work, because someone who’s never been in this department and probably never thinks of it until it’s time to do the annual budget review decided that five people supporting fifty attorneys don’t have enough to do in a day already. Oh, and you’re not getting a raise, but you already knew that.”
Because now, in addition to sending out correspondence, doing research, keeping track of summonses (which our process server is actually supposed to do, but they barely do their jobs by attempting service and then blaming us when they “can’t find the address,”¹ so fuck them anyway), gathering and requesting criminal records (oh, and Records sends those to us whenever they feel like it, which means we get in trouble for them not doing their jobs), gathering and requesting medical records, sending out ICWA notices, sending out subpoenas to whoever we need testimony from, and the literally hundreds of other, smaller things assistants do already (for the obscene riches of $25,788 a year; oh, what a lucky man I am!), we are now expected to… something having to do with assigning judges, filing GAL appearances, and other shit that the court clerks are supposed to handle already. We’re having another meeting Thursday for training.
Look. I don’t mind having a lot to do at work. I don’t mind taking on extra assignments. What I do mind is that (a) none of the assistants were consulted about these changes and asked how we’d feel if we were put in charge of them, (b) we’re being given the responsibilities of paralegals without being paid like paralegals, (c) anything that goes wrong during this switchover is going to be blamed on us, instead of on whoever decided to pile these responsibilities on us without warning, and (d) we’re not being given adequate support and training for these changeovers. We’re just given them, as if we know how to do them but are too lazy.
And for those of you thinking that I should stop whining and get another job, if I feel that way: Last year, I sent out over 500 resumés, and had ZERO responses. Zero legitimate responses, anyway; I had at least fifty scams respond, including one that keeps texting me spammy links. NO ONE IS HIRING. We’re currently living through the worst economy since the Great Depression and an out-of-control pandemic. In bad economies, no one hires, because they start panicking and either downsizing or freezing everyone’s salaries (except the CEO’s, because capitalism). I’m not willing to complain too loudly and risk losing my income, and not least because I have zero guarantees that I’ll be able to find another job that pays the same or more. But I am going to complain about it here, because that’s my right.
And yes, I get it, my situation isn’t as dire as a lot of peoples’ right now. I have two jobs, and there are a lot of people who don’t even have one. I don’t want things to get better for me and stay the same for everyone else. I want the entire situation to change. I want stimulus checks each month until the end of the pandemic for everyone who makes less than $100,000 a year. I want that to pave the way for Universal Basic Income. I want current active-duty service members to come home to guaranteed good employment (read: NOT some part-time minimum-wage job).
But that doesn’t, and shouldn’t, mean that I shouldn’t want my own situation to get better. I have plenty of desire to see things improve to go around. It’s not cake; me applying some of this desire to myself doesn’t mean I have less of a desire for good fortune for everyone else.
Anyway. I’m about over this fucking pandemic. Wash your hands, wear your masks, and GET THE FUCKING VACCINE, CRUNCHY-ASSES. If you have ever willingly eaten at Taco Bell, or drunk any type of alcoholic concoction mixed up by your former roommate (especially if they saw Cocktail and thought they could totally be a bartender, too), or if you’ve ever taken cough syrup, you have nothing to fear from the vaccine. And if it really does change our DNA: Does that mean I can choose to be about eight inches taller and delete the “medieval Ukrainian peasant who eats, like, three times a week and holds on to fat like we’re about to face the Tatars again” gene? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie, that would be awesome.²
¹They get paid $30 an hour. If I can find addresses in rural central Indiana for $3.45 plus tips, they can fucking put an address in Waze and figure it out.
²Fuck outta here if you’re about to tell me “it’s gonna give you CaNcEr!” Like, dude. Cancer runs in my family; I’m already getting it. Just like I’m getting Alzheimer’s when I hit my seventies. Chill. There’s nothing any vaccine can do to my DNA to fuck it up any worse than it already is.
Last updated February 09, 2021