Bombshells

On Wednesday last, the High Heid Yin, He Who Must Be Obeyed (er, yeah, right) spent the morning at our office. I was trying to get ready to run out to court for the first day of a three-day final hearing in a contested matter, so was stressed anyway.

I was even more stressed when he said there was something he needed to talk to me about but it could wait until lunch time and not to stress about it!

Nothing is more likely to make me stress - even with him bouncing and grinning and holding two thumbs aloft in the corridor outside my room. (Do I work for Paul MacCartney?)

It wasn't bad news, not at all. I mean, it couldn't be, really, could it?

Seems my successor does not want me here next week when she starts work, so I have a week's paid vacation and effectively finish on October 3, not October 10.

Argh! So much to do, so little time, and three hearings this week!

Bombshell number 2 was my dear, darling baby brother telephoning me from Norway, where he and his wife were at a clinic to discuss IVF. They are eligible, they have the cash, and they will be going back. I am going to cover for them in the shop while they are away for a week to ten days. It was supposed to be around 22 October this year.

'Are you free in November? Right at the end, about November 27?'

ARGH!

So, I have already arranged with my landlady to stay on till the end of October. Now I am free to leave as soon as I can be ready to go and the Hippy can get his mitts on a van.

Eek!

So, I have been madly trying to get in touch with him since Friday to no avail. He's had some kind of flu bug and has a sore back from staying in bed for two days, but was going in to work today and will sort things with his boss to come over anywhere between October 10 and 15. I hope to have an exact date tonight - will need to as we need to look at whether to go via tunnel or ferry, and then book the cats on whichever form of transport. Can't just turn up with them, unfortunately!

I am excited and terrified in equal measure, and swinging wildly between the two states. I love him and want to be with him more than anything, but to do that I am giving up something I fought and scrabbled to achieve for years, something on many levels that I adore. Or did adore...this last year has kicked most of the enjoyment out of it for me.

Anyway, Gentle Reader - next stop, Germany!

I Seem to Have Forgotten to Update...

this here blog thing. For ages!

So, I last updated it in May. Well, since then I have had not one but two disciplinary hearings, the second just to clear up a few queries the Staff Partner had. The outcome? Final written warning to stay on my file for two years, supposed to be under supervision (which hasn't happened) and some other stuff I can't recall now. Anyway, I handed my notice in about three weeks later, having finally worked out when the Big Move could take place.

My last day of work is October 10 and I will be moving to Germany very shortly thereafter! Not sure exactly which date yet, I have a psych appointment and a dental appointment the following week and am supposed to be going up to Ullapool to work while my brother and his wife are in Norway having IVF. (It's cheaper there and it has twice the success rate of the clinic in Aberdeen). Anyway, they head out there the first time this Wednesday and then have to go back on day 10 in Heather's cycle, which should be about 22 October, so I need to go up a day or two before then.

All three of the cats are coming with me to Germany. They've had their rabies shots and are about to get their pet passports in case we need to come over to the UK. Passed first time, clever things!

My secretary is poorly sick and probably won't be back at work before I finish. She had most of her large intestine removed in mid-August and has just been back in hospital for a week as the drugs they put her on conflicted with her anticonvulsants - I didn't even know she was epileptic!

Um.

Been a Long Time, Baby

Well, here I am again.

Wish I could say it's all been wine and roses since last I posted, but that would be a great fat hairy fib.

On a personal level, relationship-wise, things are fine. I haven't spent as much time over here as I would ideally like to have, or had him over with me often enough (I'm in Germany as I write this), but at least I know now that at some point in the next three months I will (ought) to be moving over here on a permanent basis.

Back at the beginning of January, I probably wrote about the shit I got at work when I arrived back from best part of a month of being ill in Germany. I may even have mentioned that my anti-depressant dosage was upped to the highest it has ever been, 225 mg per diem. It hasn't been reduced down yet, even though my GP hates my being on Venlafaxine and would never have prescribed it for me himself.

Things seemed to have settled down somewhat after L's outburst earlier in the month. It was over a week before I dared speak to her about it, but after that she seemed okay with me again. Our head of department, AF, conducted an investigation into the various issues raised, but that didn't start until February and it was mid-April before he told me he'd finished and had handed it over to the staff partner, KG, who deals with disciplinary proceedings and the like.

I came out to Germany in March, for Easter. I actually arrived the weekend before, so around the middle of the month. Not a problem, in fact I was delighted Easter was so early this year as I was missing D terribly after almost a month with him in December and into January. When I got back in to the office, L's secretary J (who started on January 2 this year), remarked 'So you came back then?'

I was a little taken aback by that, to say the least, but thought nothing of it. I just said yeah, course I did, I wasn't ill this time. Truth to tell, if I could have made it into work once the worst of the sinus thing had passed I would have, and had I been in the UK I most certainly would have. The small fact that I couldn't fly back, and hadn't the money to get back any other way (and wasn't really up to trekking back on trains or ferries to Birmingham and then driving back home, only to have to make the same journey back again for Christmas), kind of prevented me from working, you know?'

Anyway. To cut to the meat of the story. I don't think I'd been back terribly long - a week at best, I think, if that - when payday arrived. That meant end of the month. L opened her wageslip and had a pink fit: she'd been docked a day's pay. That was it - she was straight on the phone to the finance manager, demanding to know what this was all about. She was absolutely raging and really quite rude to him. She was told in no uncertain terms that she had taken one more day's sick leave in the previous year than she should have, and so they had docked it from her salary.

She whisked off to speak to some of the partners, and seemed to think one of the partners who is she is on particularly good terms with would simply overrule the finance manager and give her her money back. She was not at all happy when by the following day he hadn't done so. She started talking about walking out at that point.

Come the following Monday, she still hasn't heard about getting the money back. She pushes the issue and still gets nowhere. All we hear then is 'I've worked for this fucking firm for ten years, and they treat me like shit!'

Wednesday rolls around, and I have a psychiatric appointment at 3.30 in the afternoon. L had previously said I should take a half day off. I didn't agree with that as in the past, I've seen her come in at 8 am, work through lunch and leave at 3.15. So that's what I did. Besides which, I came back into the office 90 minutes' later and worked for another hour or so, so did extra time (which I do most days anyway).

When I came back, I wandered into the secretaries' room for a chat and to pick up any messages that had made their way upstairs already. They both looked a little shell-shocked, and J told me that L had walked out. I gave her a 'you appear to be speaking in tongues' look, and she explained that immediately after I'd left for the hospital, L had grabbed her most prized personal possessions and stormed out the building. She made quite a display of herself on her departure, it would appear. Tongues were - and are - still wagging.

Following morning I rang AF at his office in another town and told him she'd left. He asked if I meant permanently and I told him yes, that she'd texted in that morning and said she was not going to work out her notice period as she was too ill due to stress. He told me not to be so stupid, that as a solicitor I should be aware that she was required to work out her notice period and couldn't just walk out. I told him that all I could say was what she had told her secretary via text message. He asked for a list of her appointments and court dates for the next week and said if she came in with a letter of resignation to call him again.

The next Monday, she did so. My secretary faxed it across to him at his behest. L asked if she had any messages from AF or from any of the partners. She was told no, she had not. I bumped into her briefly - almost literally when I got upstairs from seeing a client - and she cut me dead. I still told her goodbye and that I would miss her. At that stage, I had no idea she was not on good terms with me.

On Wednesday, she turned up unannounced saying that she was well enough to work out her notice period and intended to do so. I soon discovered she wasn't speaking to me...then that Friday she laid into me, at one point marching up to my desk, leaning across it and thrusting her finger at my face. I am afraid at that point I told her to fuck off. She carried on berating me for another few minutes, until I looked up at her scornfully and asked 'And I suppose it's my fault that you walked out, yeah?'

Oh, muppet by name and by nature! Big mistake girl, biiiiiiiiiiiiiig mistake. You gave her an idea, and she ran with it!

She filed a grievance against me, citing my time recording, start time, complaints from staff, clients and colleagues, inability to bill files or respond to letters from the LSC and so on, but also brought up a lot of other stuff, like the time I had off in December, my depression and some other things. Now, I have already held up my hand to those on high that I have shouted at a professional from another firm on the phone. I have suggested my start time be amended to 10 am as I can't seem to make it in for 9 am. I have explained that much of my anger and lack of motivation that lead to the other cock-up derived from my depression, but that I had addressed my depression quickly and had made the firm and my colleagues aware of the problems I was having. I did that back in February of this year, and have been making amends ever since.

That would have been I think around about April 7. Since then, I haven't had word boo from her - or hadn't until Wednesday. She finished work on the Friday, and my last day before my short break in Germany was Wednesday. I'd asked earlier while she was out on lunch if it was definite that this Friday was her last day, and she must have heard about it because she stalked into my office and kind of...I dunno, hissed would be about right, but she hisses at high volume! Anyway, she hissed/yelled 'If you want to know when my last day is, why don't you ask me? For your information, yes, it is this Friday. But don't you worry, it'll be your last day before very much longer, so enjoy it while you can!'

On that, she turned on her heel and marched out my office, her departure spoiled only by the fact that she bounced off the doorframe on the way out...

That was not, however, the last she had to say to me. Oh no. That came at full roar as she went off to see a client downstairs.

'Not much point coming back from Germany, really - she ought to stay there. That's if her fucking pensioner will have her'.

Let's just say that it is really a testament to my ability to remain calm that she did not complete her descent of the stairs with the assistance of my toe up her arse.

I did leap out my chair when I heard the door downstairs slam shut and head for the secretaries' room which is next to mine and as far from the top of the stairs as my room. J had her head in her hands and was whey-faced and A was just kind of chewing on the inside of her lip and wriggling her nose the way she does when there's something she really doesn't want to do or say. I demanded to know if they'd heard that, then - the shame! - started to cry as I was so furious.

Later, J told me that if I mentioned it to those on high she would not deny it, but wouldn't report it herself. That's good enough for me.

The outcome of the investigation was reported to me on Monday of this week. I have to attend a disciplinary hearing on Wednesday next week. A day or so later, the partner who had dealt with L's grievance reported back to her by post and she went postal about that. Apparently he'd skirted the issues that she'd raised and she was most unsatisfied and demanded an appeal against it, stating which other partner she wanted to handle the appeal.

Ooops. She didn't get who she wanted. Oh no. She got the very top of the tree, the man who everybody fears, the man who takes no crap from no-one and who even she is a little bit afraid of, I think. She sees him at 10 am, I have my hearing at 2 pm.

I intend to go armed. I have one of my litigation colleagues, N, who I get on well with, coming with me. I was taking A, but she felt uncomfortable about it and thought it best I go with someone else. N is driving us there as she lives in the town where head office is, which is where I have to go. She can't speak for me, but can support me.

N spoke to her head of department, who handled L's grievance in the first place. She told me that she had a feeling that the disciplinary hearing is a step they have to be seen to have taken, so that if (when, more like) L goes to an employment tribunal and claims she was not dealt with fairly and was driven out of a job, they can show that they did take her seriously and carried out a full investigation.

I may receive a formal warning, a final written warning, be dismissed with notice or dismissed immediately with three months' pay in lieu of notice. They already know I intend to leave anyway. I'm hopeful I can arrange that I leave of my own accord and that my copybook isn't so badly blotted it makes it hard for me to find work in the future.

I've already owned up to having sworn at her. I've twice stated that she has been bullying me and I find it intolerable working with her. I've been told filing a grievance is the only thing I can do, to which I replied that I would still have to work with her and I would find it even harder having filed a grievance against her.

My health has suffered. My blood pressure is up, I've gained weight as I've been comfort eating or just plain not bothering to diet or exercise, and I haven't yet managed to taper off the anti-depressants, which having been on them for 8 months I would normally have done by now. My mood is noticeably flat, although at least I am not flying off the handle any more and haven't been really since the end of January when the increase in dosage kicked in.

So, there you have it. My life in a nutshell since I last bothered to update the blog.

I will update again next Wednesday, worry not. It's depressing, and annoying, and really very sad as I do love my job on so many levels. I just can't deal with the shit that comes with it at times.

Oh, hey! I have my Asperger's assessment on June 23! That's only what, seven months after I first saw a shrink and asked for it. Took a lot of nagging and a change of shrink to do it, too. But that's another post for another time.

The Down Side

I chose to do what I do currently because I wanted to make a difference, in some small way. I wanted to use my ability to help people, and for the most part that's what I do.

Sometimes, though...there's nothing I or anyone can do.

She shares my birthdate, but apart from that small coincidence we've really nothing in common. She's 14 years younger, half my size, has two beautiful children and an IQ in the region of 47-57.

She's been let down her whole life. First of all by her parents. Her father disappeared years ago, and her mother has difficulties of her own. As part of the matter with which I became involved, her mother was also seen by a psychologist. Her IQ is closer to 65. This girl told me no, my mum's not got learning difficulties, she can read and write. I can't do that.

Her mother decamped to Norfolk with her other children. She was left behind with her grandmother. She says she wanted to stay behind, but it seems she was left, at 9 years old, to care for her grandmother.

At some point, during her childhood, she was abused. I won't say more than that. She hasn't the ability with language to disclose much and obviously enough it's upsetting for her to think about that. It isn't really important to what we're doing (although it matters, it matters a great deal), so we haven't explored that.

Her mother came back from Norfolk with a new man by this stage, and she never really got along with him. The social worker saw him hitting her, but they're both adults now so she couldn't intervene, really...

When she was 15, an older boy raped her. She didn't really understand what had happened. She'd been truanting from school for so long that she was allowed to leave before taking any exams. Not that she could read or write, so there would have been no point, anyway.

Social services had some involvement with her, but it isn't clear what. Their records are patchy. Never easy to keep records in order, when offices move around so much, and they never made it onto computer.

This is her story, in more or less her words, since she turned 16.

She met a boy when she was 16. He was nice to her, made her happy. She fell pregnant and had a beautiful red haired boy. Like his dad's dad, that. Red hair. He started to hit her then. She couldn't get him to leave her alone, couldn't cope with the baby. Her mum and her stepdad looked after him, and she hated it, she really hated it, but they took over. Social services didn't want her to look after her own baby, she didn't know how to fight them...her mam let her see him, but he used to cry when she left him there.

She went with another boy a couple or three years ago, fell pregnant again. He was friends with the other boy. She had another boy, this time a beautiful blonde boy with big blue eyes. He looks like his dad, too. Neither of her babbies looks like her. Makes her sad.

Social services, this time, they let her keep her babby with her. She loved him so much, looked after him as well as she could. His dad didn't want to know him. His dad's mam did, but they never got on that well.

She loves her boys. She really does. Everything were fine, but then her older boy's dad come back and he were on drugs then and he wrecked her house, tore it all up. Wouldn't leave her alone.

She saw a solicitor, got an injunction against him. Forgot to go to court to get it again and it went, and he kept coming back and hurting her. Social services came back and put her little blonde boy with her older boy at her mam's. That hurt her so much, her mam didn't care about her. Got so angry, broke a window at her mam's. Police come. Police come round a lot. Been in court a couple of times. Her mam's fella, he hits her. Bloodied her nose in front of social worker. She didn't do nothing. He hit me and she didn't do nothing. She doesn't care about me, she just wants my babbies.

My mam had my babbies, mam and her man. They got sick. Took older boy to doctor, give him some medicine. Social worker took both boys to hospital, see a doctor there. Doctor said they was sick, really sick. Blamed me, blamed my mam and her bloke. Took them off us and put them with foster carers.

They love it with their foster carers. They're so good with them. Boys tell me all about it. Older boy, he's in school. He's doing right well. He's not like me, he can write his name, and mummy. Makes me things out of Playdough. He tells me, 'Don't cry, mummy. I can't come home right now cos you're poorly, but I'll come home when you're better. Don't cry, mummy'.

She wants her boys with her, but she knows that is never going to happen. Then her mam could have them, but they won't let that happen either. Boys have been through enough. Want them to stay with foster carers, they love it there. But foster carers can't have them. Older boy, he's going to be so angry, so hurt. Don't want them to get moved again, it's not fair.

--------------------------------

It makes me so very, very angry. This poor child - because, while chronologically she is 22, she is still a child - has been let down by everyone her whole life through. There has been social services involvement on some level through a large chunk of her life. She had difficulties at school, but it was put down to behavioural problems. She was written off as lazy and disruptive.

This is a very vulnerable girl, who has been used and abused by goodness only knows how many people. The shocking thing, for me, is that it was only when the local authority began care proceedings in respect of her sons that there was an assessment of her abilities on more than a basic level.

The first time we went to court, I remember standing in the solicitors' room and insisting we had to have a psychiatric assessment carried out because I did not think she had a clear understanding of what was happening and did not think she was competent to instruct me. I was told I was just holding things up and there was no need for it. I stood my ground. That is how we know how learning disabled she is. A psychologist confirmed this. The psychiatrist recommended a psychological assessment, and I am very grateful that he did so. I just wish that more good had come out of it for her, because nothing has been done to resolve her many issues.

Today, we took her to court, and the judge made final care orders. We go back in April for placement orders to be made. Her beautiful boys will be adopted by strangers. She will never see them again after April. Between now and then, she has two one hour contact sessions, and then a final goodbye contact. These normally only last twenty minutes at most because they're so emotionally hard on mother and children.

This poor, bewildered girl, still so much a child in so many ways, was distraught. She doesn't understand how or why this can have happened to her. She never harmed her children. Not intentionally...but the older boy had eight teeth removed after going into foster care, and four teeth capped. His developmental delay has all but gone, and he will most likely keep up with his peers. He seems to be of average intelligence, as does his little brother. She is happy about that.

Her own prospects appear grim. She continues to fight with her mother and stepfather, who has a terminal illness. They blame her for losing their grandsons. She blames them for not looking after them properly, not making sure the older boy went to school or to the dentist. They were supposed to be looking after him. He and his brother both became ill when they were looking them - she couldn't make them listen when she asked if they could see the doctor, and she wasn't allowed to take them anywhere on her own because the social worker wouldn't let her.

She's lost her council housing because her older boy's father came back on the scene. He kicked her back door in to get in to her house, and although she told the council repeatedly they never fixed the door so she couldn't keep him out. He and his 'friends' trashed her house again and started taking drugs there. The neighbours kept complaining about the shouting and screaming and the bad behaviour of the visitors to her property.

She can't live with her mother because they fight all the time. Her grandmother is ill. The council won't rehouse her. So, she's on the streets, moving from one friend's sofa to another and sleeping rough when she has to.

She hadn't eaten in two days. I took her to McDonald's on the way back from court. She wolfed down her burger then played with her fries. Too upset to eat more. She had a strawberry milkshake and talked about how much her boys loved McDonald's and how she hoped she could take them for one of her last contacts with them.

So many tears, today. I couldn't speak when we came out of court, her barrister sat with her arms around her and soothed her because if I'd opened my mouth to speak I would have started crying too.

I am afraid for her future, so very afraid. I cannot see any hope that things will turn out better for her in the long run. Her children will be - I hope - well cared for and very much loved by whoever is lucky enough to adopt them. They are very beautiful boys. Bright, cheeky faces, big smiles in the photos I've seen.

She asked me, in the car, do I like what I do. I told her that I do, a great deal. But not on days like today.

I had to stop speaking there, so that I could hold back the tears and keep the car on the road.

This is the down side of what I do for a living. No happy endings for this girl. At least I know that I have done all that I can to help her. My contact at the Official Solicitor's office who instructs me tells me I've done more than many of the solicitors she instructs would bother to do.

Sometimes all the caring about the outcome and worrying about the client and trying your best for them doesn't lead to a happy ending. I know I get too involved at times, but when you are dealing in matters like this, truly life-altering matters...how can you not become involved?

All I can do now is hope for the best. One comment that was made by the psychologist haunts me, though.

"I do believe that with the support of a loving and caring partner, K could parent safely, adequately and perhaps competently. However I do not think that K would be attracted to this kind of partner, or that she would be likely to attract such a partner."

I cried when I read that.