I Can't Make This Shit Up... #2

Another installment of ridiculous and truthful moments in the life of yours truly... Let's start with the "good" and end with the "bad", because the latter is far more entertaining.

You should all be jumping up and down in front of your computer screen right now (causing it to quiver just a bit, like a candle blown out suddenly by the wind - a simile, for my literary-conscious friends) because I GOT MY FIRST PAYCHECK yesterday afternoon! A warmth enveloped my entire being as one of the partners handed me that glimmering, powder blue piece of paper with a thrilling combination of numbers prefaced by a gorgeous, bold dollar sign, signifying that - indeed - I had earned a week's worth of wages from our fine law firm. I was so shocked by this generous symposium of numbers that I literally had to wipe drool from the corners of my mouth and tears from the corners of my eyes. Will I have a full-on seizure when I actually receive my first check with the entire pay period amount enclosed? I rushed to the bank, rolling through stop signs like I was OJ in his infamous white Ford Bronco. Depositing this check was a rush I had never felt before. Forget base jumping! This is living on the edge!

(I am aware the writing above had nothing to do with the original premise of this column, but I had nowhere else to express my joy and needed a happy lead-in for my tale of overwhelming stupidity.)

Still on a high from yesterday's check, I decided that my seventh official day of work would be a perfect time to forget all ethics, manners, and levels of respect and play it casual with every single employee in our firm - including the lawyers themselves. As I was sorting mail, one of the younger lawyers in the firm jokingly asked why his mail was not receiving special treatment over everyone else's mail. (Note: We have four secretaries in the firm, each assigned two lawyers to assist. When I open, stamp, and sort the mail, I make four piles, one for each secretary, who know best what to do with the contents of these envelopes. This is how I was trained to perform this task, and it seems to work best for all involved parties.)
This lawyer was on his way out for the afternoon and found it rather difficult to sift through the pile of mail housing his letters, resulting in his request for special treatment. My reply, ladies and gentlemen: "I can give you special treatment if you want." Fabulous. I may have emphasized the word "you" a bit too much, because the look he gave me in return was a perfect blend of fright, embarrassment, intrigue, and insult. I meant no harm, and only wanted to be helpful, but I didn't realize the magnitude of my semi-sarcastic comment. Was I TRYING to end up in some sort of sexual harassment court case in which Mr. Lawyer claims I made inappropriate advances towards him in an effort to rise up the corporate ladder? (Does that even really work nowadays with the crumbling economy? Can a few innuendos determine job security? If yes, then I'm changing my tune and embracing my remark.) I have now learned to be careful with my speech, avoid puns (I made none, but find them increasingly annoying, so I threw it on this list for good measure), and get my mind out of the gutter.
My office romance thwarted, the lawyer excused himself, as he was already late for a meeting. I may be reading far too much into our brief exchange, but had you been there yourself, you would have wondered these same thoughts well into the night, as I find myself doing now. As I lay me down to sleep, I also find it safe to assume all will be well in our office tomorrow. I will wear a turtleneck and make sure the mail is sorted quickly and efficiently. No subpoena necessary.

- Elyssa