Tuesday, December 21, 2010

You Wonder Why I Am A Feminist Of Some Sort?

My family, God love them, is very Catholic and very Conservative/Republican. So, that's what I grew up with. Was inculcated with. What I said in grade school.

The point I was forcibly reminded of today was the family position on feminism. A. To be feminist is to be femi-nazi (I hate anything that includes the word nazi, because, really? Six million dead is what you think you are accurately comparing here?) B. It Just Doesn't Work (this is the part where my Dad says that women should not work outside the house because it isn't right and the children end up deformed and neglected and God is displeased with the woman) C. The need for feminism is all made up anyways (there is no good old boys club, women don't receives less opportunity or pay, etc. They make it all up!)

To some extent, I got to hear all this again when I went to law school--calling me a feminist with a nasty sneer, imploring me to remember my future deformed and neglected children, but at the same time, saying, "Well, at least women are equal in the legal profession."

Well, let your fears be rested, gentlemen--there is still a good old boys network.

Let's talk about Lawyer A in my office, who may or may not be me or another attorney. A is sitting in a chair, waiting for everyone to enter the courtroom, when older male lawyer (OML) comes in and says, "You should have worn a shorter skirt" (A's skirt is actually below the knees) "because this is an all day hearing and I was counting on your nice legs to get me through it." A stares in disbelief.

OML is talking to client while A moves a table in the courtroom. A hears OML say "Well, let me give this to that mean ass attorney." A refuses to respond to name calling. "Let's see if I can get the bitch to turn around to talk to me." A is somewhere between laughing and sheer amazement. "What a c*^t." (Lordy, even I won't say that, it's just gross.) OML finally comes up, addresses A by her proper name, and gives her the document.

During the hearing, there are several points where OML decides to roam the floor while presenting evidence. Because of the way the courtroom is situated, OML has to walk behind A. As he does, he reaches out and runs his fingers through A's hair. A stares at him in disbelief. He does it again, tugging a bit more firmly. A shakes him off, and looks at the judge, who is looking at the witness. OML does it AGAIN, this time tugging A's hair hard enough to jerk her head back. A shakes him off a little harder, then readjusts her chair so that he can't wander behind her anymore.

As they are leaving, A is treated to a request for "a much shorter skirt next time, sweetheart."

So, yes. I think this is wildly inappropriate. I think there is a old boys club that thinks this is okay, and I work with them everyday. I don't think I should have to stay at home or endure being treated like this.

And I don't think I am crazy or militant for saying it.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Dear PTB at SyFy

Dear Powers That Be,

I am reasonably sure that we have had the conversation where I admit I am a nerd, a sci-fi nerd, who has cable only for the SyFy channel?

Yes, I know we did.

You canceled the only show that I regularly show up to watch. Time to cancel my cable. Which, of course, also means canceling you.

Jerks.

Heart,

Grace

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Welcome to the [Crazy] League, Kid

For a while now, it's been official: I have been a lawyer employed full time for [more than] a year now. The middle of October saw me into my first full year. So, in true slacker fashion, I give you my one+ year thoughts:

Things I learned in my first year of practice (grouped by related topics).

Oh, family law.
Mondays in family law = chaos.
Holidays in family law = chaos + emergencies + drama.
Chaos is always > my ability to comprehend.
Therefore, I cannot comprehend holidays or Mondays anymore.

Have you seen my desk?
The number of days spent outside the office in court is directly proportional to how the stacks of papers will be on my desk when I finally return.
If I walk into court feeling like a have a handle on things, I will be pulled aside in the court hallways at least three to six times and get handed new cases.
The greater the need to talk to the person/child/police officer/case worker, the more likely it is my office phone will mysteriously hang up.

Good Ol' Boys Club
I look like a little kid, so make up, especially when tangling with old white male attorneys, is essential. Also essential are my high heeled lethal looking boots.
Playing nice, dumb, serene, and generally like a newbie works great for when I later want to skin someone alive.
The best way to handle the suggestive "sweetheart" accompanied by an even more suggestive leer and invasion of personal space in the elevator is to step forward aggressively and inform the offender that no one calls you sweetheart. [would you believe me that I've had to use this more than once?]
Never ask an attorney who is over the age the 75 how they are doing today. You will get their digestive history [so not joking].

Those Metal Detectors Work, Right?
The City County Court Building is a zoo, and my attorney badge is my zoo pass.
Do not go into a hallway alone with a person with penchant for battery/person suspected of homicide/convicted rapist. [pats self on back for figuring that one out beforehand]
I will see at least one of the following: underwear, an unfortunate lack of underwear, see through shirts with black bras, lime green stretch jeans, flip flops and a tank top in the snow, someone who is clearly drunk.