This morning I am working at the firm. We have a case with a particularly difficult opposing attorney. The attorney in my firm who is handling the case is pretty even keel. He has 3 kids, so he has that "I'm a father and there are no emergencies" way about him. His secretary, on the other hand, is a total bitch so it is an even match.

The secretary, let's call her Lori since that is her name, has a reputation around the firm. She's very moody. One never knows if she's on or off her meds, so to speak. She'll cuss you out one minute and the next she is kissing your ass. It's a very unusual thing to behold. I, personally, try to avoid her as much as I can because I don't like being near people that are wildly unpredictable. It makes me feel a bit out of control.

So I did an assignment for this woman, and brought it back to her to be checked over and then we sent it on to the opposing attorney. Pretty soon, seconds in fact after I faxed the info, the opposing attorney was on the phone yelling at Lori. She claimed we (I) had done something wrong, and they were crabby in that way that reminds me I don't want to be a lawyer anymore with each other.

So Lori freaks out and runs to get the attorney on our side so the problem can be sorted out and once he arrived, right there in front of me, Lori made a comment about the opposing attorney. "She's probably a dyke!" the hothead barked.

Now, I'm not all PC and crap and I can really understand tempers and pressure and all that stuff. But I got really bent out of shape. "Oh really?" I questioned. "Do you think you can get me her number? My boyfriend and I are very fond of dykes. Perhaps we'll have her over for dinner. In fact, why don't you just give me the phone and I'll tell her you were speculating about her muff diving and see if she wants to take you out on the town."

Lori looked at me in stunned silence. She was embarrassed, but choosing to cover it up with inappropriate rage. "You know, Lori," I continued, "It just is not possible that every tough situation you come up against is the fault of a dyke or a fag. So the next time you want to demonstrate exactly how low your IQ is, or wax all poetic about homos you just might want to make sure all the homos are out of the room."

I grabbed the file and left her office before she could respond.

I know they're talking about me now. I'll probably get fired later. If I do maybe I'll have a cause of action.

Posted at 11:14 a.m.

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