c

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

3.2

'twill be day 18 at Work tomorrow. I feel like jotting something down about these times, before I start to lose track of the years let alone the days I'll have been here.

Looking out from our 40th-floor office, whichever way you turn is a stunning wide-angle calendar/postcard shot. You haven't really seen the Swan River and surrounds until you've been to our building. Even the view from my desk (which, thankfully, is not inside a cubicle or, worse, a room the size of an archive box), of the city and Northbridge, in which everything seems nearer, flattened, cramped, indistinct - even that is endearing in a way that every Perthan would appreciate.

I have a secretary. <= There's a statement I hadn't expected to make so early in my journey to the Dark Side. She's years younger than me, and way more competent - a relief and a blessing for all, is all I have to say. I don't have her all to myself, but whenever I've needed her help she's managed to attend to it immediately. I've seen her stand up for herself to a lawyer when given more to do than time to do it in, but she hasn't given me any attitude (yet) for being the know-nothing new kid. And she's the prettiest secretary around.

Speaking of pretty young girls, our junior support staff are all such. Their job is to lodge and serve documents (hence the emphasis on appearance, I suspect), food-shop, update looseleaf reference materials, help with photocopying/binding/shredding etc., come 'round to collect people's mugs and cutlery towards the end of the day, ... I simplify though by no means trivialise. No idea how Bossman sources his ladies (ostensibly not through the same channels whence I came), they're all fresh-out-of-Yr-12, pleasant-looking, softly-spoken, mild-mannered, individuals. Some are hoping to work their way up, others hanging around while they figure out what they really want to do with their lives. They don't interact much with the professional staff except when they're being assigned, or reporting back on, errands; but they don't seem to mind having me around (the clerks, be they junior or Articled, share the same workspace).

It's true: an insane amount of tree-hurting goes on in a law firm. As the most junior member of staff qualified to charge for "legal work" in 6-minute units, I get to cause much of the hurt first-hand. Our copiers could do with trays that'll take recycled (one-sided) paper without fear of jams.

Did I see it coming? I certainly should have; after all lawyers are practised in deception, if nothing else. They let me have a cruisy first couple of weeks - in hindsight that must've taken considerable self-restraint on their part - after which they wasted no more time in allocating me all sorts of menial unlawyerly-yet-chargeable tasks. I can't remember the last time I was called upon to ponder the fundamentals of justice and equality; was long before I started here. And perhaps I ought to be not just a little embarassed to say, I'm not all that fussed. Over and above the fact of its being something-to-be-gotten-through, I intend to enjoy the lack of responsibility while I can, and defer the stress/fatigue/insomnia for as long as possible. All in good time anyway.

In the beginning, as is the case in all my beginnings, maybe even before the beginning, I - I won't say "worried"... wondered, rather - whether I would get along with my would-be colleagues. My previous workplaces have each in their own way been unconventional, in the sense of requiring minimal schmoozing (bar one), such that in the first few days at least, on more than one occasion, I came close to questioning my "credentials" in this unchartered territory. Then I remembered, of course, that people warm slowly (but surely?) to me, or I to them, or both. I may not be equipped or inclined to join in every (or any) sporting debate / critique of opposing counsel / conversation inspired by a former child star's biceps / lamentation about bra ergonomics (or lack thereof) / ...; but there will no doubt be times when I am.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home