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Monday, October 26, 2015


During treatment, mostly when nauseated, memories of my former life as a paralegal would keep me entertained.

My first job in the legal field--working for a mentally ill, spastic and eventual social disgrace. Subsequent jobs with the very pillars of the community--some quasi-normal, most with addictions to one thing or another - work, money, social status, trophy wives. The creepy guy that thought a slap on my nubile 21-year old ass (very slapable back then) appropriate. Me, not confident enough to elbow him in the face and stomp on his crotch at that time. The endless succession of others - a Libertarian that was very open about, his group sex activities (and the endless parade of hookers through the office); the devout Catholic in denial of her son's prolific porn addiction (despite it crashing our systems constantly); the married Nerd in love with the likewise married office administrator, an arctic bitch that had a love hate relationship with bipolar disorder and simply played him like the love-sick retarded tool he was. Workaholics, alcoholics, drug addicts, sexual deviants, drama queens, control freaks, micro-managing psychopaths and narcissists. I've worked for them all. I've been sexually and verbally harassed, had things thrown at me, been screamed at and treated like garbage.

It's maybe troubling that there have been so few normal, kind, amazing mentors - Steve K., Tommy A., Tommy B., Steve H., Nevin of course.   

After breast cancer and all its particular horrors, it's difficult to consider return to the standard legal office environment. Really, the thought keeps me up at night. 

So....I am delighted at my job offer today for remote transcription, from a reputable firm and it's been a real work to find it. Tomorrow we are revamping my home office.  My new foot pedal and computer are on the way.