Friday, August 31, 2007


I know that technically when people are in a conference room having a conversation with the door shut it generally means that whatever they are talking about is private or (in a law firm) privileged in some way. The problem with our office is that one of the conference rooms is right next to the staff kitchen. And sometimes, if you balance in the right direction, and hold a glass to the wall, you can hear what is being said.

This morning, I just happened to be in the kitchen making my morning tea when the monthly partners' breakfast was wrapping up. Uncle and Peters were the only ones left and with the door slightly ajar they seemed to be having a very confidential discussion about something. Which, of course, peaked my interest.

So, being the excellent lawyer I am, I pulled out my investigator glass and placed it against the wall, leaning in to hear what I could.

I managed to detect the following:

Uncle: I absolutely.... it's about time....
Peters: He is so headstrong.... Trixie is....
Uncle: Yes... ridiculous really...
Peters: I agree
Uncle: I insist. It must happen.

About 5 minutes later I got this email from Uncle:


Please take RSVPs and collect money for the September Shindig. I'd appreciate a spreadsheet setting out who's coming, who's not and the reasons why.


Clearly, Uncle, Peters and Ben are part of some evil plot to demote me to office admin girl. Senior Associate is clearly just a couple of words round here which mean 'lady lacky' who gets to do the crap tasks - oh to be back in Broadmeadows!

Tuesday, August 28, 2007


Just three weeks left to September Shindig. I was quite content with my flu excuse and was starting to develop a bit of a headache one afternoon which I thought I would use as the groundwork for developing my symptoms. (I know that three weeks is a long time to have the flu but best to build these things slowly so that they are more convincing, and now we have the horse flu anyway, who knows, I could have caught that given all the horses I work with.)

I say I was quite content with my flu because stupid Kate and Jean-Claude went and buggered it all up today. As you know, they are in their happy-slappy-lovey-drool-all-over-my couch-every-night stage of their relationship still. And short of spending every single one of my nights seeking refuge in some kind of buttered pastry or chocolate covered gorgeous nibbly thing at Brunetti's I had to learn to live with a couple.

Of course, one of the gigantic downsides of living with a couple, when you're not in a couple, is their desire to set you up, all the time. I have been on two blind dates with friends of Jean-Claude's and men, let me tell you, you could make a little bit of effort. Showering and paying for at least your half of the drinks/meal/movie I understand to be basic requirements when going on a date. Apparently not among Jean-Claude's friends.

So having been exposed to extreme dating, Jean-Claude style, I had chosen the flu . Like those t-shirts in the 80s and 90s that said 'choose life' I was in the process of designing one that said 'choose flu'.

Then, today, Jean-Claude emailed Kate to say that he had overheard Peters saying to Uncle that Ben (perfect Ben) was thinking of asking me to go with him to September shindig.

Now why would Ben want to do that? We clearly despise each other and are competing in the same workplace for pay rises and bonuses from the same pool as well as dipping in to the same promotion pot. I am 100% sure this is some clever ruse on his part to get in with Uncle, who he knows is uber keen for me to have a 'steady'.

I think my flu just got upped to the measles, or even better, something contagious like Gonorrhea which will send him running for the hills. That'll teach him to think about asking me to 'accompany him'. Bastard.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007


I think I have come across the most brilliant solution to the modern woman's dilemna re accompaniment for the September Shindig.

The flu. It seems to be everywhere at the moment and I mean really, who wants to go these RIDICULOUS events anyway? If I'm going to get all dolled up and eat good food and drink too much wine, I am going to do it with people I like rather than musty BCF partners down at the stinky yarra against my will.

Today, I am considering a move to the coast, Apollo Bay perhaps, where I might open a bakery, or a bookshop with a cafe? I can grow my hair long and maybe even let it matt up and turn into dreadlocks, I can rinse it in 'eucalyptus oil' once a month and never have to shampoo, blow dry and straighten again. I can do fabulous amounts of yoga and stride along the beach every day (unless it's raining or too cold).

So often I think that BCF life is not the life for me.

Monday, August 13, 2007

September Shindig

I am slowly learning that in BCF certain months are synonymous with certain events. For example, February is the month we go on a staff retreat, June is the month we have a Trivia night and November is when we have our Christmas party.

September is the month for September Shindig. I obviously have not been round for one of these events before (being a fairly new recruit to BCF) but apparently September Shindig is THE social event on the BCF (incorporating ABC) calendar. It's black tie and down in one of those warehouse event centres on the Yarra. (Mmmmm while we eat and dance we can inhale the stench of the Yarra).

My big concern about September Shindig is (I found out today) that we are meant to take our partners so it can be a bit of a social meet and greet to show we have a life outside the office. My problem, of course, is that I have no life outside the office, let alone any kind of partner resembling person in my life that I could convince to accompany me on the promise of a free steak and beer. I am now faced with the delimna every modern professional woman faces at some point: "Is it ok to pay someone to be my date at a work function so I don't look like a total loser AGAIN?"

I think it is important to intervene here and say that I don't think I am a totally repulsive leper and some people have on occasion said that they find me attractive. I think the issue is not that I am ugly but that I am uber busy and don't actually have time to meet anyone outside work. Unless someone happens to be in my kitchen when I get home or even better in my bed then the chances of me meeting them is absolutely zero.

So ladies and gents of the modern legal world, I need some educating in the way of these BCF functions, do I go solo or recruit (or pay for) a lovely handbag to go with my beautiful Marc Jacobs dress?

Monday, August 6, 2007


No slime this week. In fact no gripes about entering time either. I feel quite excited about the week. We had our reviews last week and despite some of the monumental stuff-ups I have pioneered both in and out of court in the last few months BCF seems to not find me too repulsive. I wonder if this has something (everything?) to do with the fact that my Uncle is BCF managing partner. It's possible but I like to pretend it is not so.

Ben, of course, was earmarked for partner because apparently he embodies 'all the joys that are BCF' now that we are BCF (incorporating ABC). I think ABC BCF would have just been too confusing for a firm name. And he won't stop bragging about it. I got an email from him this morning set out like pleadings arguing why he was the best and most attractive person in BCF. I think he thought it was hilarious. It just made me angry so I issued a counterclaim on my behalf. He then issued a 'no case to answer' and threw my claim out. Bastard.

Kate got a stellar review also (well my Uncle is her Dad so same reasoning might apply here). In fact the response seems to have been universally positive. Maybe they don't say nasty things at this time of year?

On the dirty gossip front Kate and John are all on. He seems to be sleeping over (and in our kitchen in the morning) almost every day now. They really are lovely. But sometimes I do wonder whether he might like to bugger off for a while so I can have my couch back and watch Grey's Anatomy with a block of chocolate on Sunday night rather than having to carefully perch on the arm of the sofa as they make out and recline in comfort, legs intertwined. Small complaint really.