Reflections on 30 years in law

I remember it like it was yesterday.  In Junior High School I remember telling myself:  “Self, you’re going to graduate from high school, not go to college, get a job working as a temp in some law firm somewhere, make three thousand dollars (seemed a lot in 1978), move to L.A. and try to become a movie star.”

Four out of five ain’t bad.  And how many people truly to move to L.A. with $3K and become a movie star?  There was logical reason as to why I didn’t end up in L.A. and that was because Seattle was quickly becoming “Hollywood North” and why fight up-stream when Hollywood was coming up here.  (Please Note:  Seattle was “Hollywood North” for about two years and then Hollywood went more North and has camped in Vancouver, B.C. ever since.)

But this blog isn’t about my failed acting career – it is focused on “get a job working as a temp in some law firm somewhere” and as of January 3, 2013 I will have worked in law in some capacity for 30 years.

In the fall/winter of 1982 I was working as a Santa at Aurora Village Mall and did a week-long temp job through my temp company “Hallmark Temps” working in a stamp making factory.  Again, another blog for another time.  But January 3^rd, 1983 I landed my first job working in a Law firm.  It was “Betts Patterson & Mines” and I was brought in to work on the WPPSS litigation.  At the time it was the largest class action suit ever brought and where money can be found – you’ll find attorneys.  Most every law firm in Seattle was pulled into the case and “BP&M” was right in the thick of it representing Chemical Bank.  I was hired, as a temp, to organize binders.  My desk was a window sill in the Bank of California Building.

Little did I know that this “bill paying job” would expand out for 30 years.  Sounds like a career...don’t it?  Sounds like a vocation.  A calling.  Well for me, and for every day of those 30 years it has been simply what it has been:  A job.  You see, normal people would gladly focus on what they wanted to do, get that education, seek that job, find it, and live (hopefully) happily-ever-after.  And if maybe I had actually raised the $3K and gone to Hollywood I would be sipping margaritas by my pool in Hollywood while servants waited on me hand and foot – three Oscars on my mantle, a gajillion dollars in my bank account, etc. but one makes their choices and my choice (besides marriage, home mortgage, children, etc.) was to stay in law...and write.

There are those lucky few who actually get a job they love doing.  As someone once said:  “Find a job you love and you’ll never work another day in your life.”  I refer to this as a “soul feeding” job.  A job that, while you’re doing it, you feel your soul being fed.  What feeds my soul?  Writing and teaching.  Try as I might, though, I can’t seem to make a living at either one...yet.  So if you can’t find your soul fulfilling job, you find a “bill paying job” and feed your soul on the side.

Some reflections on 30 years of “bill paying jobs:”

I’ve been sexually harassed.

I’ve been praised.

I’ve been put on an “improvement plan.”

I’ve been honored.

I’ve been yelled at – even in a meeting with all staff.

I’ve had to fire people.

I’ve had to hire people.

I’ve heard more stories about the most bizarre things you can even imagine (tattooed teeth?).

I’ve cried.

I’ve been cried on.

I’ve sent out e-mails to “all-hands” when I shouldn’t have.

I’ve found seemingly lost documents that no one else could find.

I’ve made more than 10,000 boxes, at least.

I’ve copied more than a million pages, at least.

I’ve watched friends get laid off.

I’ve played “good cop” to HR’s “bad cop.”

I’ve watched a co-worker eat 40 mini Hershey bars in one sitting.

I’ve coordinated attacks on leftovers from various meetings to feed my staff and co-workers.

I’ve pissed people off.

I’ve never been fired (yet).

I’ve worked with some AMAZING people.

I’ve worked with people I could go the rest of my life and not see again and I’d be fine.

I’ve flirted.

I’ve acted like an idiot.

I’ve said the wrong thing.

I’ve done the wrong thing.

I’ve run the streets of Seattle delivering documents on deadline.

I’ve mentored.

I’ve been mentored.

I’ve taken advantage of an open bar and a buffet.

I’ve been trained.

I’ve done training.

I’ve worked hours of overtime.

I’ve fallen asleep at my desk.

I’ve believed we’ve been working on a higher purpose.

I’ve believed we’re just doing what we’re doing to make a living.

I’ve lost co-workers to the great law-firm in the sky.

I’ve made enemies.

I’ve made friends.

I’ve lived.

The simply reality of a “bill-paying job” is that I would leave it in a heartbeat if I sold a script or won the lotto and was able to feed my soul.

But, you may ask, after 30 years did NONE of this feed your soul?  Well – when I was managing a department – that was when I truly felt like I was doing something to better this world.  I worked hard to be the manager that I always wanted to have and (sadly, more often than not – did not have).  I may not have been the best manager – but I know my staff believed in me and respected me.

But feed my soul?  If I’m being truly honest – working 30 years in law has not fed my soul – it has EXPANDED my soul.  And that, besides bringing home a paycheck and working in-doors, has been worth it.

To another 30 years.  Or when I sell that script.  Whichever comes first.

You know your birthdate but do you know...

When’s your birthday?  It takes but a moment to think about it.   You put it on forms, on websites, on credit-card applications, etc.  It’s RIGHT THERE on the tip of you memory lobe.  You might not know the actual DAY (I was born on a Thursday), but you know the date.  It doesn’t take a lot of effort.

When’s your deathday?  Oh, well, that’s a bit trickier.  What would you do if you knew when your deathday was?

All this week (December 17^th through 21^st ) I’ve been battling a headache.  I don’t get headaches and this one is just lingering.  Never fully going away but not really debilitating, either.  It’s just THERE.  Sometimes it makes itself known, sometimes it just lingers.  It’s kind of like Regis Philbin (sic?) in that respect.  A co-worker said it was a “tension” headache.  Sure.  Whatever you say.  I’ve taken meds, they don’t really help.  But what could possibly be the cause of this headache?  Let’s see...

1.      I was panicked early in the week over a potential gift for my son and then had “buyer’s remorse” but still, will think he will like it....maybe.

2.      My friend’s best friend from high school is dying of a brain tumor that is “taking a buzz saw to his nervous system.”  He probably will die before the end of the year – if not soon after.

3.      Saturday I have to deliver my 22 year-old Twinkie to the buyer who bought it for $74.  Of course I had dreams of thousands.  The Kickstarter campaign is lagging but I need to kick it into gear soon after the Holiday.

4.      Work has been looooooong as all week I’ve been fielding calls in regards to a class action suit, including a call where the man yelled at me because his “daughter died a few years ago and now his wife is upset and he’s upset and he doesn’t want any more letters sent to him!”  That’s fine, I didn’t send it to him.  Still, I couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit bad he got the letter in the first place.

5.      Then, of course, there’s the pall of the killing of 26 people (20 of them children) in Connecticut that still lingers over everything like a depressing fog.

6.      Lastly there’s the whole “World Will End December 21^st! – ‘Cause the Mayans predicted it!” thing that has also been taking up synapses in the old gray matter.  And all this has been pushing on my “deathday” button.  In other words:  If you knew your deathday, what would you do?

I don’t mean to be morbid, especially 5 days out from Christmas Day – but too many things  have happened (or are happening, or are rumored to be happening) that is causing me to think of my own mortality.  The problem with mortality, is that when it rears its ugly, ugly face the only thing it truly does is force you to turn around and look in a mirror.

What do you see in a mirror?  You see yourself – warts and all.  And no one sees you like YOU see you.  What do you also see?  You see what’s behind you.  And that’s that ol’ mortality trick.  When the reality of sin, evil and death (Connecticut) or simply the reality of life and death (my friend’s friend) sift to the surface it causes one to pause.  Or SHOULD cause one to pause and take stock of where you’ve been (all that stuff behind you in the mirror) and where you’re going.  But when you look in the mirror you don’t see where you’re going.  You see you.  And what are YOU doing about YOU?

So as the headache comes and goes, I wonder:  “Is it a brain tumor?”  “Am I dehydrated?”  “Am I tired of fielding calls that at any moment some guy is going to yell at me?”  “Did I get all the presents wrapped?”  “Will Nick like his gift?”  What kind of questions are these when I’m looking at myself?  Back up the horse-cart, Billy, and think about the future.  The REAL future.  YOUR future.  As if your deathday was tomorrow.  What would you do?

I would love or attempt to love.  Because nothing is more important than that.

Common Courtesy

Thank you!  Good morning.  How are you today?  Excuse me.  Please.

Is that so hard?  Really?

I can’t remember her name.  People like these I sort of block out of my mind.  What is the point, really?  She was an attorney I worked with at Miller Nash and she bugged the hell out of me. Why you ask?  What was it that she did (or didn’t do) that got my panties in a wad?  She was rude.  RUDE I tells ya!

It was in High School when I first realized that the words:  “How you doing!?” are not a question.  I know what you’re saying:  “Well, gosh-o-golly, Matt, it sure LOOKS like a question!  It has all the elements of a question.”  Well, for some, it’s not a question, it’s a greeting and as the janitor in my High School asked me this fleeting greetquest I stopped to respond and he didn’t stop to listen.  It was at that point I was clear that “How you doing?!”  and any of the sisters of it  (“How are you doing?”  “How’s it going?”  “What’s up?”  “How’s it hangin’!?”) are not questions, too.  They’re a greeting.  For some.  For me they’re still questions because I REALLY want to know how you are doing and how things are going and what’s up and how it’s hanging and I’ll REALLY stop and look you in the eye and wait for a response.  Call me crazy.

But morning after morning I would wander by this attorney and I would say:  “Good morning.”  And she would not respond back.  Not a “hi” not a “good morning” not a “how’s it going?”  NOTHING.  She’d give me a look like I was not worthy of her attention and keep on moving.

After this moment would pass I would enter my office (more a closet really) and I’d be pissed.  My co-worker would look at me and say:  “Did so-and-so ignore you again?”  And I would say “Yes!”

Again the question begs – is it SO HARD to say “Good morning” back?  This isn’t a “let’s talk about the cute crap my kid did this weekend while I pin you to the wall for twenty minutes” it’s just a greeting.  A simple, no nonsense, greeting.

Most recently the same thing has happened.  I will approach someone on a nearly daily basis and say clearly and cleanly:  GOOD MORNING!  And my co-worker will stare straight ahead and continue typing like I don’t exist.  There’s no way to mince the words, there’s no two ways about it:  IT’S RUDE.  It’s as rude as vomiting during a wedding ceremony or loudly farting in a crowded elevator and not saying “excuse me.”

But what galls me is that this same person would be the first to run screaming if I dare did the same thing to them.  When they come and talk to me it’s usually in a confrontational way and they expect, hell, DEMAND that I give them my full and undivided attention.  Just once I would love to have the courage to just sit and type at my computer while they yammer on and on about whatever issue they’ve got and then, after an interminable amount of time finally turn to them and say:  “oh, I’m sorry, were you talking to me?  I didn’t see you there because I completely ignored you like you do to me on a daily basis.”  But I don’t do that because I know that they have worth and deserve my attention (and I don’t want to get fired).

Weird ending to the Miller Nash story was after weeks and months of this attorney ignoring my very existence, when I sent an e-mail out to all staff telling them that I was leaving to go to Heller Ehrman she was the FIRST person to come running into my office and exclaim:  “Oh my God, Matt, how are we going to survive without you?!  You’re so great!”  I guess I really did exist.

I'm not Pro-Choice - I'm Pro-Freedom

I’m not “Pro-Choice” – I’m “Pro-Freedom”

Note:  This is another one of my serious blogs.  Feel free to read...or not.

I didn’t know her name.  She stood at my bus stop day after day and I didn’t know her name and I didn’t WANT to know her name.  You see, my “bus time” is MY TIME.  I do not, repeat, DO NOT want a “Bus Buddy.”  You know the person, they see you on the bus and can’t wait to sit next to you and tell you about their evening or their weekend or whatever.  It’s not that I’m not friendly, nay, I’m VERY friendly.  Gregarious in fact.  Willing to say hi to a stranger, chat a person up in an elevator.  But “bus time” is MY TIME and I have my routine.  My seat.  My meditation (ie: sleep) and I don’t want to be taken out of that.  You could be the bestest person in the whole wide world but I need my 20-to-30 minutes of bus time.

Still, we said nothing.  She’d read and I’d wait.  The bus would come, we’d get on.  She, obviously, didn’t need or want a “bus buddy” either.  Unsaid rules were set and we got along just fine.

One day, though, it was obvious that I would have to speak to her.  Our bus was running substantially late and there’s only so much staring at your feet that one can do (and I was good at it) until the awkwardness of both of us looking up the street to see no bus coming was finally going to reach its max.

So as she cradled whatever book she was reading, I leaned in and said:  “Good book?”  She looked at me and loudly said:  “Well....not the book I should be reading!”  Okay...I’ll bite.  “And what book is that?”  “How to deal with breast cancer!”  And there it was.  A woman who I didn’t even know her name was telling me that she had breast cancer.  SIGH.  So now we had something to talk about and she soon became my “bus stop buddy” meaning we’d chat at the bus stop but, when the bus arrived, we’d go to our seats and not talk again until 7 a.m. the next morning.  I never did find out her name.

But that’s the thing with me.  I either have a face that says “trust me, tell me you have issues” or I ask the right questions to people to have them tell me their issues.  Like:  “Good book?”  What IS it with me?  Why do people open up to me? 

Don’t get me wrong...this is not a complaint.  Trust me, it’s not.  I LOVE that people open up to me.  As a writer and an observer of people, I like to hear what people have to say about themselves and their lives.  I’ve even got a handful of questions that are great openers to get people to open up.  One of the best is when you meet a couple and ask them:  “How did you meet?”  There’s ALWAYS a story.

And then I do a crazy thing...I listen.  I do what is referred to as “active listening.”  What this means is that you actually LISTEN.  You don’t steer the story to yourself and your life.  You don’t give advice or ask inane questions about something that doesn’t make sense – you listen to what they have to say and you find words in what they said and repeat them back in the form of another question.  So back to the “How did you meet?”  Let’s say their response is:  “Well, when I was stationed up at a Navy base in Alaska – we used to go into town to a bar called The Barnacle and she was working there...”  Maybe my next question would be:  “How long were you in the Navy?”  or  “Did you ever go back to Alaska?”  or “Was The Barnacle a dive?”  Typically most people would say something like:  “I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska.”  You see, that’s wrong.  First, it’s not a question and, second, it’s about YOU, not THEM.

Once the second question is asked, this continues with more active listening.  Ideally in a 20 minute conversation I speak for maybe 2 minutes, they speak for 18.   You don’t learn about someone and their life when it’s reversed.  And you, certainly, don’t make it about YOU – you make it about THEM.

I’ve had these skills for as long as I can remember and I think it’s a combination of these skills that enables people to want to interact with me.  It’s like I have a special “good listening” sense or something.  And I have been doing this for years and you’d be amazed at what people are willing to tell you about their hopes, dreams, fears, fantasies, sex life, secrets, etc.  Obviously there needs to be a level of trust, too.

Barbara was one of those friends.  I had, actually, sworn off any more friends.  Literally, I had said to myself that I was done with being the therapist for everyone I knew.  Though I enjoyed it, it does sap one’s energy to active listen and, damn it, sometimes I need some ME time.  But, as these things go, I couldn’t walk away.

Barbara worked for a company that my company worked with.  We would call them and order up boxes.  Each call would take a few minutes because they’d have to look up the number, see if we had the box already, double check, ask a few questions of when the box is needed, etc.  This leaves “gaps” in the conversation and I’m not one to not fill a gap with inane jabber.  So a typical call would go like this:

“This is Barbara – how can I help you?”

“Hey Barbara, this is Matt Terry.  How’s it goin’?”

“Good.  What can I get for you?”

“Can you send over box 1234 and 1235 on a RUSH basis, please?”

“Hold on, let me check...”

This would then be the pause as she’d punch numbers in the computer and it would do whatever.  In these pauses, I would then say things like: 

“Got any plans for the weekend?”  or  “Are you and the hubby doing anything?”  or  “Seen any movies lately?”

Of course with my “active listening” brain the answer to these questions would then spring MORE questions and I would ask those.

Over the time of about 6 months, and though I had sworn off friends, Barbara and I became good friends.  Now, I had never met her in person.  Didn’t really know what she looked like.  But we chatted and laughed and talked about all sorts of things...and here’s what I learned:

She was in a terrible marriage.

Her husband had stolen all their money and invested it in Amway and lost it all.

She was not happy with him, or her job.

They had not had “relations” for over 2 years.

She was suffering from depression.

She needed to get out.

Now, there’s a common rule that I follow and that is to not give advice unless asked.  Listening is always the best practice.  Giving advice isn’t necessarily the best practice but often times they would ask and if they did I would give it.  My suggestions were to see a REAL therapist, talk to her family, and get out of this marriage as quickly as possible.

She followed through and kicked the thieving bastard to the curb where he belonged.  She was now a single woman on the make who had not been intimate with a man in over 2.5 years now and was ready to enter the dating pool again.  Good for her.

One morning, as she was rushing out of her house, she locked her keys in her car and had to call a lock-smith to help her.  When the knight-in-shining armor came out she felt smitten by this handsome guy helping her out and she tossed out the idea for them to go out on a date.  He took her up on the offer and they soon went out.

With years of pent-up libido and a new-found freedom in grasp, she slept with him.  She was on the pill so she knew she wouldn’t get pregnant and it was only the one time...alas...she got pregnant.

When she told him, he denied everything, accused her of trying to get at his “family fortune” – if one even existed and treated her like a pariah.  He would have nothing to do with her or his baby.  She was stuck.  Finally after years of pain and suffering at thieving husband – she finally experiences another night with a man and gets pregnant.  With her whole life ahead of her – this guy wanted nothing to do with her or the baby and she couldn’t afford to raise the child by herself.  She chose to have an abortion.

We talked at length about her choices.  I did what I did best.  I listened.  This wasn’t an easy choice by her.  This wasn’t “abortion as birth control” and she knew that it would devastate her in a number of ways both physically and mentally.  Her family wasn’t going to be there for her – and, obviously, neither was the “father.”  Once she had made her decision, she had no one else to take her to the clinic, so I volunteered.

The procedure didn’t take long.  Fifteen minutes, tops.  Afterwards we rode silently, to a local Denny’s where we chatted a bit.  It’s been so long and the conversation so meaningless that I don’t remember what we said.  I probably said some platitudes but we might as well have talked about the weather or colored pinwheels.  I do know that I offered to take her home but she said she was “okay” and we went our separate ways.

Over the next few months she took more control of her life.  Quit her job, found a new job, commuted many miles, dated, fell in love, fell out of love, found another love – dated some more.  And then we lost touch and I haven’t heard from her in years.  Don’t know if she’s living or dead...wish I knew.

*****

One of the biggest issues I have when it comes to abortion or gay rights is that many of the people who are making/voting/creating the decisions don’t know anyone who has had an abortion or don’t know anyone who is gay...so they get their “facts” from whatever they’re told or whatever they believe through some archaic concept that doesn’t hold up to the reality of the loving gay couple next door – or the struggling twenty-something still dealing with the guilt of an abortion.

This blog, in my own little way, is to put a face on the reality that is abortion.  I’m not trying to say it’s right or it’s wrong but my goal is to clear away what I think is a common misconception about abortion and that it’s equivalent to going down to Starbucks and buying a double latte.  I will be very clear, I’m not for abortion as a form of birth control – but that is often the image that is given by abortion foes.  Like it’s a walk in the park.  Trust me...it's not.

In 2011 Florida made a rule that all persons on welfare should be drug tested.  The thought was that if you’re being given money by the government, the government shouldn’t pay for your drug habit.  On paper, or as a Facebook meme, this sounds completely and totally logical.  You don’t want druggies on the government’s dime.  An idea that people can soundly get behind because, in a lot of ways, it makes sense.

Here’s what happened.  The state of Florida spent MILLIONS of dollars to find out that 2% of welfare recipients were using drugs.  Millions of dollars to save a couple hundred thousand dollars.  Dollars that could have been spent on drug education.   Schools.  Job incentive programs.  Anything else.  But the residents of Florida were so bent on culling those drug addicts from the state rolls that they spent a huge amount of money to find out only 2% were guilty.  Then the question begs:  Who was the drug company?  Oh, yeah, the drug company had a relationship with the Governor’s wife – or something like that.  So this drive to find waste – wasted millions while politicians got rich.  So was this really about saving a dime or....what?

Again, when people hear about women having abortions, or gay people wanting to get married, often times the perception the people who are against this have some one-dimensional mind set.  ARE there people who use abortion as a form of birth control?  I’m sure there are.  But I bet it’s less than 2%.  Are there sketchy gay people out there?  I’m sure there are.  But I bet it’s less than 2% (and there are far more sketchy straight people out there than 2%).

Like turning up the radio in your car to drown out that annoying noise that the engine is going to fall out – I see people who hold stories like this at arm’s length.  They don’t want to hear the heartbreaking story of the young girl raped.  They don’t want to hear the story of the recently divorced woman sowing her oats and being lied to.  They don’t want to move beyond their 1-dimensional view point to see the layers of gray that might exist.

Lastly...if abortion is so important to some people...I simply ask this:  The woman has the baby.  Then what?

What about the father of said child?  Where are the laws punishing him?  If this woman is forced to carry the baby to term then what of the father?  Chemical castration?  Forced payments to the mother and child?  The fact that the father is never brought into the equation is shocking to me.  It’s as if the woman got pregnant all on her own.

What about the health of the child?  If this child is to be born and be born healthy, what is being done by this government to provide for that child?  Pre-natal vitamins, pre-natal health screenings, doctor’s appointments, birthing process, post-natal care, doctor visits for the child and the mother, etc.  I see a strong (very strong) disconnect between when the child is in the womb and once the child is out.

Now the child is going to school.  What is this government’s role in terms of education?  Both primary and secondary?  If the government wants to take such a strong role while the child is “in the womb” what about when the child is “out of the womb?”  What is being done?

If the child is going to be put up for adoption, what has the government done to streamline this process?  How much easier is it for potential parents to be screened?  How are the costs being kept low?  What rules are in place so the transition is a speedy one?

It is, in my opinion, extremely disingenuous, to force a woman to have a child possibly against her will and then turn your back on her the moment the child is born.  Show me how the above is in place.  Show me how the above is being dealt with.  Show me the legislature to bring to justice and throw in jail these lock-smiths who think they can just get a woman pregnant and walk away.  Oh, that’s right; they can get a woman pregnant and walk away.

As the political discourse was ramping up recently, I would post photos on Facebook with the simple caption of “Yep.”  I soon, though, decided to change it to “Something to think about.”  Why?  Well, it’s easy for someone who disagrees with me to bypass a photograph with the word “Yep” but to bypass something that is asking them to “think” makes me think that they might not want to deny not thinking.  In other words – I don’t think there’s anyone out there who would look at a photo I would post and say:  “I don’t want to think about it.”  That would be sort of snobby...

When I hear factions talk about “pro life” and “pro choice” – I’ve often see the words “pro choice” as kind of the loser in that phrasing.  “Pro life” sounds so affirmative while “pro choice” sounds like you’re all for deciding between Coke and Pepsi.  I hereby say that I’m not “pro choice” – I’m “pro freedom.”  Freedom of choice.  Freedom for a woman to choose what SHE wants to do based on her age, health, job, life, children, husband, doctor, faith.  Freedom for people to love and marry who they want.  If the “pro life” people want to say that they’re “anti freedom” then they certainly have the right to do so.