How to Stop a Roll Off Dumpster from Blocking Your Driveway and, The First Hellacious Day Back at the New Pig Penitentiary

What To Do When A Roll Off Dumpster is Blocking Your Driveway

 

Who even knows what a roll off dumpster is except for the people who need them, and the goons who supply them.  And what was I supposed to do after five days of not being able to use my driveway because the company wouldn't come and remove that rude piece of crap.

It wasn't just me.  Four other people couldn't use their driveways either.  But no one that I am aware of anyway, has had their period for three weeks straight, and for sure, no one else put themselves through another automated system from hell (the city of L.A.'s notorious #311 line) for 30 minutes before losing it.  The heartbreaking thing about this call is that I finally got to someone nice and then f'ing Verizon dropped the call.  I was steaming. The guy at the roll off company didn't stand a chance at this point.  Even I felt sorry for what might come out of my mouth.

When the call to the City dropped (I was simply trying to determine what options were available to get the stupid thing out of our way), I stormed over to the the ugly green monstrosity filled with someones castaway dirt and dialed the number on the side, which was answered by some guy. 

"Hello Sir.  I am calling from the City of Los Angeles Bureau of Parking Violations.  Is this one of your  roll off containers parked in front of 2442 Serrano Drive?" 

"Ahhhh, um, yeeesss."

"Well sir, it's your lucky day because I am calling to do you a favor.  I am standing here looking at it right now, and number one, it is parked in a tow zone.  Number two, the complaint I have in front of me states that it has been blocking four private driveways since last Friday.  Isn't  that correct, sir?"

"Ahhhh, um, yeeesss.  I guess."

"Well I am calling to give you one chance to get here in ONE HOUR and remove it, or the City is going to take care of that for you."

I'm not sure I can capture the hemming and hawing that ensued, but suffice it to say that he wanted, no, begged me for more time.

"I am not in a position to do that sir.  You have one hour."

I think he started to cry. 

"Alright sir, now that's enough.  We are not the horrible people everyone makes us out to be.  Look at this.  Already I am calling you first to give you an opportunity to take care of this with no penalty.  Now tell me one time, just how much time are you telling me that you need to remove your equipment from a tow zone and from continuing to inconvenience all of the people who live near here?"

"I need at least 3 hours.  PLEASE!!" blah, blah, blah.  And he wouldn't shut up.  About traffic.  About his flatbed.  About his other jobs.  I wanted to skewer him.  So I did.

"Sir, you have an hour and a half.  That's it.  Be there, or it's gone."

And then what happens.  F'ing VERIZON drops the call.  Of course. It was pretty good timing but there was a chance that he would call me back, and stupidly, I had not blocked my number to begin with. Three weeks of hormonal raging isn't a good catalyst for rational thought.  And of course he did call back.  Par for the course with Murphy's Law.

But like anyone on the brink of insanity or already there, I just didn't care.  I didn't really think he was going to sit around chewing tobacco and wondering if I really worked for the city or not.  He really did have a lot to lose.

I made that call at 1:00 PM.

At 2:25 on the dot, lo and freaking behold, a huge flatbed truck came rolling down the street, and within about ten minutes, the big ugly monster was finally gone.

I think I cracked a crazy-laced smile, and I know I tucked that one away in my special toolkit for future use. 

Pig Penitentiary Redux

Torture me.  Torture you.  Now it's my turn roll off dumpster guy, because I am back to work at the hellhole.

But let me go back a step to the compendium of document review terms that I have been working on, just so that people who have never done this work are able to rubberneck into our world a little bit. 

In my last blog I explained what a document review project is.  My next glossary item is:

Contract Attorney (click on link for Wiki's viewpoint).  


Contract attorneys do not perform substantive analysis, review contracts, conduct research or otherwise engage in legal work of any kind.  As mentioned before, a monkey or a homeless person would be the first hiring choice for a law firm of any true intelligence.  It's just not kosher to do it. Yet.


A contract attorney's only working tool is a mouse. We use various e-discovery software products developed just so that our employers can count just how many clicks each of us produces each day because really, there is little else to oversee, and oversee is a control freak's favorite pastime. 


We are ClickMonkeys.  We sit and we click for a minimum of 8 hours a day, often without getting up from heinously uncomfortable, old, broken and stained office chairs that are dragged up from storage and reserved just for us. 


We fill out sign in sheets to track our movements and bathroom breaks. Our clothing is heavily scrutinized and policed, although most often we are crowded into airless closets with no windows and sit at 9 foot plastic tables with heavy cables, wires and routers tangled underneath our feet. 


These pathetic, inadequate tables wobble and sag beneath the weight of the antiquated computer equipment (also reserved just for us) spaced three inches apart, the CPU's most often doubling as footrests. If you are unlucky and lucky enough to get an end spot at one of these tables, the tradeoff is that your knees will be constantly bruised from the corner brackets, other ClickMonkeys will despise you, and you will probably have to operate your mouse from your lap.  Next up I will explore the position of the law firm Doc Review Babysitter...

Back to the Pig Penitentiary

I don't think you are supposed to feel like throwing up the night before you start working.  I think you are supposed to feel at least some relief that your will get a paycheck.  Or something like that.  But I knew what was coming, and if I tell you that I went to bed when I got home from work yesterday and didn't wake up for 13 hours afterward, it should give you an idea of just how much it took out of me to be there.

We had been basking in our good fortune for a few minutes after arrival because our digs were actually reasonable.  In a conference room, with a beautiful view, drinks, soda and ice refilled on an hourly basis, and great chairs.  Within 10 minutes we received the new that 25 more people were being added to the project early in the next week and yay!!!! we will all move in to one room together.  Big surprise.

During the next few minutes the ugly, Irish bitch who heads up the project (not the Babysitter associate who sits with us mind you) came down to "talk" at us.  Well, not me apparently. 

She said "So, how are your Saturdays?"  and my two idiot colleagues started bobbing their heads and smiling and said "oh fine."  When I looked over at her, she turned to me and said, "I don't mean you."  I think I started to shiver while I muttered hallelujah under my breath. 

One positive for me. 

More to come, but it is imperative that I end on a positive note tonight, to avoid a 5150 to Gateways Hospital, and this is the only one I've got people.



Pig Pen Diaries: Cream Puff Problems, Freeze-Dried Coffee, My Ridic...

Pig Pen Diaries: Cream Puff Problems, Freeze-Dried Coffee, My Ridic...: Cream Puff Problems, Freeze-Dried Coffee, My Ridiculous Opinions about Sex, and of course, More After Pig Pen... ...

Cream Puff Problems, Freeze-Dried Coffee, My Ridiculous Opinions about Sex, and of course, More After Pig Pen...

Cream Puff-itis:  How I Overdosed on Beard Papa's

Sorry.  What kind of name is that?  It just doesn't conjure up anything good.  A pedophile with a scratchy beard? But least of all a cream puff.  Geez.

I have been obsessing about creampuffs for the last six months.  They are not easy to find, which of course makes me so much more interested in them.

Every time my cheffie friend and I go for soup dumplings to Din Tai Fung in Arcadia, we pop across the lot for cream puffs at JJ's Bakery.  Not too bad if you sprinkle some cocoa powder on them too.  And for less than a dollar, a pure bargain.

So what about this weird Beard Papa thing?  First of all, they are ensconced in malls.  I don't do malls.  Indoor, outdoor...doesn't matter.  I don't go.  I have things to return to Williams & Sonoma.  I just can't do it. 

Usually.  Yesterday, I was a glutton for punishment probably because we got word  that we were called back to the shitty job later this week. 

In a fit of depression, I drove to Hollywood & Highland  in monsoon rains, parked in the crappiest parking lot on earth, put on a spelunking hat and set off to find the cream puff store.

Suffice it to say that I went in endless circles in the rain (hello outdoor mall!) looking for it even though I carefully studied the absolutely useless directory near the escalator bank.

When I got there, the cranky girl behind the counter had just come out from the back of the shop. She glared at me like I was a total bitch for having disturbed her nap. 

When I started asking questions about their four (?) flavors of cream puffs I realized how smart she was.  She answered me with unintelligible word like sounds just so that I wouldn't ask any more questions.  F it!  I just ordered all four and two more for insurance purposes (plain, in case I didn't like the flavored ones).    I wonder if they trained her to do that?

All I can tell you is that by the time my GF showed up to pick me up for dinner that night, I think I still had powdered sugar all over my face, in my hair, and all that was left in the cream puff box were the soggy tops of the four that I hadn't eaten in the car on the way home.

And they weren't even that good!  What is wrong with me???

I think I am over it.  But I wonder if cheffie feels like going for soup dumplings this week?

Starbucks Via?  

Sanka tastes better than that.  I guess there is a market for big name coffee that is just as bad as any other freeze-dried stuff.  I was skeptical, but at least I tried it.  It tasted just like the freeze-dried Maxwell House coffee my crazy mother drank when I was a kid.  C'mon Starbucks...I'd participate in a blind taste test to prove it.

Is Sex a Responsibility in a Relationship?

I did open the door in my last post.  I have heard people say that if you don't feel like having sex anymore, just "do it" and then you will want to again.  That is so silly.  Hormone changes (male and female), physical pain from a problem such as endometriosis, psychological trauma - as well as zillions of other issues can lead to a non-interest in sex that, yes people, could last forever if nothing is done to address it.


If you are single, I don't think you have any obligation to do anything about it if you don't want to.  BUT. If you are in a relationship it's a different story entirely.  What if you are with someone who has a markedly different sex drive, or you have been with someone who has lost their sex drive entirely (hey...maybe it's not you)?


I think you have to talk about it and figure out how this is affecting the relationship and then chart a course to address it in a way that works for both people.


I have also heard this from some married folks: "If I lost my sex drive, my spouse would just have to deal with it."  Really?  I bet they will deal with it. 


Isn't sex a relationship responsibility that lies with both parties?


Maybe people should add it to their wedding vows.   What do you think?

After the Pig Penitentiary

Before heading back to the latest vile project that I was recently furloughed from, but before sharing any more anecdotes about my work life, I think it is time put in to words, no matter how exhausting, exactly what it is I reluctantly do for a living.  It's for those of you who don't know WTF I do.  But  I have to do it in parts.

Guide to A Contract Attorney's Life as a Document Reviewer

Part One

Document Review Project During the discovery phase of large scale litigation (think Apple v Samsung) millions of documents are traded (not willingly of course) between the parties to the lawsuit. Most law firms do not have the internal resources to "review" these documents.


Most law firms wouldn't care if a monkey or a homeless person worked for them during this phase in the litigation because most of these cases are never going to court. However, it isn't really ethical or hygienic to hire teams of monkeys or homeless people (although I am sure these possibilities have been tossed around quite a bit in conference rooms across the country).


If hiring a monkey or a homeless person is not an option, the next best, cheapest option that meets the marginal ethical and hygiene requirements is to draw a team from the absolute lowest possible tier on the legal totem pole... a temporary Contract Attorney. An added bonus is that hiring contract attorneys provides the best opportunity for giving low level staff at the law firm a true shot at abusing someone else for a change.

More to come...

 

Unemployment's Automated Phone System on Meth, Oskri Coconut Bars and The Final Thought for the Day

The Rubriks Cube (on Meth) of Automated Phone Systems

Being unemployed is humiliating the first time it happens.  After that, c'mon people,  you try to figure out ways to supplement the pitiful amount that they give to you, so you don't have to go back to a horrible job at all. 

Yesterday I braved the 800 number for California's EDD.  It has a very complex automated telephone system that is designed to break your spirit, cause a full-on hospitalization required mental breakdown, or, (the best outcome for them) you throw your phone out the window thus preventing any future calls.

The unemployment people chose a clever company to design their system. The deeper you are sucked in to the automated menu, the faster you have to hit right buttons to make your selections.  But much like the orchestrated mindgames played upon Jamie Kennedy or Candid Camera's unsuspecting victims, the system is rigged to make you press numbers so fast that you can't possibly hear what they relate to, if anything at all.

I screwed up.  I hit a button that disconnected me (probably almost all of the selections do that).  But silly, naive me blamed self for not being able to navigate the system. I tried. Again.  

This is when I actually noticed the crazy speed thing and got carried away with a little internal competitiveness - I was going to beat it!!

The truth is,  I couldn't press the buttons fast enough, and my selections, if you can call them that, went nowhere.  OR so I thought.  After coming down from the crescendo of button pushing madness, I think I accidently hit the RIGHT button.   This is one they wanted to me to hit all along (Duh!!!)

Finally a voice, albeit a recorded one (why am I so thankful that I at least reached a recording?): 

"Due to the number of callers in front of you we will not be able to help you today. Please call back another time."

If you want to try it yourself, I suggest taking a valium first (although it will likely inhibit your ability to push any buttons at all) and dial: 800-300-5616.  On the web: http://edd.ca.gov/

My admiration is deep for those who have mastered this system.  I never did test well.

OSKRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

I am new to the protein bar, diet bar, craze that now takes up 1/2 of an entire aisle at Gelson's (http://www.gelsons.com/), Whole Foods (http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/) and even Ralph's (http://www.ralphs.com) and seems to be the food of choice for the skinny people in L.A. that are bent on staying that way. 


I grabbed MYFIRSTBAR impulsively out of a box at the checkout counter at Whole Foods the day before another vile temp job was about to commence.  Proper feeding is difficult to attain on TRAINING DAY at a high end law firm.


It's the day for nasty, bottom feeding associates who never have anyone listen to them talk bask in their own insecure narcissism at the expense of anyone within 12 feet of them.  They take center stage and proceed to bore the death out of a group of equally educated but scum of the earth (in their eyes) contract attorneys.


So, on the first day, one of the afore-mentioned, who was clearly bullied as a child, had been windbagging it straight for about 3 hours. No break was in sight.  I remembered MYFIRSTBAR was in my bag.  Tried to avoid the paper crinkling noise as I opened it beneath the conference table, waited patiently for the windbagger to become animated about some idiotic and insignificant part of the case, broke/bent a little piece off a the OSKRI COCONUT BAR (http://www.oskri.com/) and frankly...it was a little wet. 

Weird.  But I had to eat it.  I was starving.  We all were.  Heads were sagging, eyes were drooping after sweeping the clock.  My new mission was to sneak it into my mouth, which I did.  And with great joy.  It tastes like the coconut inside a MOUNDS bar!!!!! My favorite candy bar!!!!  

Yay, Oskri.  BUT.  I didn't eat the whole bar just then.  I wrapped the other half up in the remaining wrapper and went for it again on day two.  OSKRI!!!!! It was hard as a rock. 

Guys, you gotta fix that.  My colleagues were drooling for a taste and all went to buy these bars. UNTASTED - after my review of it!  I just don't want to hear the complaints...

 Final Thought for The Day

I want to develop a new habit. I'd like to throw out an opinion in this spot, let it percolate and then explore it more next:  Lots of people don't have sex.  And it isn't because it isn't available.  THEY DON'T WANT TO.