Good Work Is Rewarded With...More Work

Remember my good day? The day when I won two motions? I am beginning to rue that day now. It seems the powers that be think I have the magic touch because of that day. The worst thing about doing a good job is that you get fed more work. A lot of work. Work up to your eyeballs.

Meanwhile, other co-workers who consistently leave at 4 p.m. and dare claim to be "too busy" to help you write motions (as you slave away alone until midnight) continue their blissful carefree existence, tainted only by their possibly likely fraudulent billing tendencies.

These are my companions tonight: computer + dinner.

Behold the remains of my edible cohort, a mango tandoori chicken pizza on whole wheat dough from CPK. I hate CPK. Ok, I don't actually hate CPK's food (although it's only about a 3.8 on a scale of 1 to 10), but I do hate what CPK means to me. In my world, CPK = work = no evening laughs with Mr. Monkey + no TV + no toying on the Internet = unhappy Monkey.

At least I don't eat like a porker anymore. Back in the day, I would've eaten an entire pizza and a cup of tortilla soup. This little piggy knows when to stop now. Oink.

Talksa is here, too. Of course she is. Good people get dumped on. Poor Talksa is doing the work of three people, while certain other co-workers who lament that 5:30 p.m. is "late" are doing the work of...well, one-quarter of a person and are still getting paid the same as we late-night schmucks are. Suckers are we. Hmph.

If someone asks you to wash the dishes, and you break a dish, you probably won't get asked to wash the dishes again.

Sometimes I wonder if I should just break a dish.

But somehow I think the ramifications of breaking a dish at my job would be different.

Practicing law is not analogous to washing dishes. Too bad.