An abrupt exit out of hell.

I got canned last night.

I haven't spoken a lot about my job, because I (and the rest of us) quickly realized these whores barely needed a reason to get you fired. Turns out, they don't need any reason at all! After a number of my friends have been fired for extremely tenuous reasons, I got a call last night at 10:30 saying my services were no longer needed. No matter that they continue to hire new people and will undoubtably hire a replacement for me. They gave no explanation to me or my staffing agency. I called the agency this morning and demanded a reason, because I've consistantly been one of their best workers and not once has anyone one of those fucking cowards approached me about any sort of personal problem with me. They'll take retribution on anyone, and my co-workers have their suspicions that they did it to break up the dynamic at our table. I guess they did a good job, because I went down there to have lunch with everyone and they said it's like a funeral in there today. The new guy who was put in the seat next to me freaked out this morning, after meeting me yesterday and noticing that in one afternoon I did more than the quota for the day and yet, was let go anyway, thus giving him his first lesson about this environment. I feel bad for him, cause I know what he's in for. The worst part is that he's pretty attractive, which means he's going to have that skank lawyer's rack and her nasty hair (which she must have flat-ironed in sections after putting a gallon of palmade in it) in his face for the rest of his time there. Yay sexual harassment!

My friends are doing their best sleuth work today to see if there's a story behind it, but it's unlikely to be a good one. One of the lawyers is apparently acting very nervous and trying to be everyone's best friend today, apparently she's even left everything on my desk still (usually that's how we know someone's been fired, the lawyers clear the boxes off their desk), as if everyone doesn't know what happened. That's the thing, because this job has been utter hell, my co-workers and I have become brothers/sisters-in-arms, so they're not going to fall for their shit. They gave me a card at lunch, in the shape of a headstone that says "RIP Heather" which everyone signed with things like "those bitches will get what's coming!" and little drawings of our office in flames. They joked about getting some candles and putting a little shrine on my desk as a (sort of) joke, and making little headstones to put on everyone's desk who's been fired. It'd look like effing Arlington in there.

Anyway, my staffing agency doesn't take the lawyers seriously anymore, so they're going to see if there's another project for me. I think I'm going to take the week off because I have jury duty next Wednesday and I find out about the bar on Friday. If I pass, maybe they can find me some attorney positions. Everyone says, and I tend to agree, that this is a blessing in disguise. Money's going to be tight for awhile, but I'm not sad about the job. I'm really going to miss seeing my friends everyday, but a few of them are my friends for life now, and the rest I'll continue to see at our happy hours. I'm more upset that those unprofessional whores keep getting away with this, than anything else.

Guess I bet work on my cover letters!

I'm a ten-thousandaire.

Via GG:

My blog is worth $10,161.72.
How much is your blog worth?

Sweet.

Hold this cloth so I don't get blood on your sweater...

I've been getting a ton of google hits lately. There are the string of usuals, "CalBar," "Mariska Hargitay," and "spanikopita" (which I get allthe time, no joke.) For awhile there I was coming up on the first google page for the first two, which is funny considering I talked about Mariska in half a sentence like five months ago. I'm sure this post will knock me up there again.

Then there's "blogs heather in dc bar exam." Well done, you found me. And my personal favorite: "vinyl logs." Everyone needs some.

So I managed to give blood finally. I used to go all the time in college, but then, like the rest of my life that isn't directly connected to the law or drinking, I forgot about it for awhile. I tried to give a few weeks back (the Red Cross started hounding me after Katrina), but lo and behold, the little blood drop rose up in the blue liquid. Low iron. I went back again this time, after beefing up on my spinach and cutting back the caffeine, but still! I'm not sure what it is with me and my iron count, but I clearly need to be taking mass quantities of vitamins or something. Luckily, they spun the blood (after squeezing every last drop out of my finger) and I was just above the limit. My blood guy didn't actually say what I wrote in the title, but it was the first time I'd ever had someone put a cloth on my side before he stuck me. At first I didn't realize why I was holding it there, then: ew. Splatter. Luckily there was none, though it turns out I'm quite the bleeder. I filled the pouch in less than 10 minutes and then took nearly that long for my arm to stop bleeding while I held it in the air. So, boys and girls, go give a pint, will you? It feels good to give! And stings, just a little.

I've been thinkin bout the doorbell.

My friend who double-examed passed the Maryland and failed the Mass. Thank god. She only needed one. And she found out Mass first, which is why I hadn't heard from her. Recently, my friends who are not law students have commented on how this experience has, from their outside perspective, created tight-knit family members of people who've barely known each other for a short time. Funny, it's true really. Though, those of you who read this blog already know that, as my blogger-bar friends have become my extended family throughout this process. In the past two months, my co-workers have become part of that, too, and it was really hard this weekend. We went out for dinner, drinks, and dancing tonight, and it felt good. Even though it wasn't me who found out my results this weekend, I was right there with them, and I think they're happy that, above all else, they can plan now. They know where they stand. I think that's the mercy in failing: you know what you have to do. Me, I'm still swinging in the wind. I know, poor me, but you know what I'm saying. I woke up at 8am today, on a Saturday, with vicarious stress and personal fear. I just want it over. But...I don't.