Weellll… Despite my moaning yesterday, and despite 14 hours on my feet, and despite having to kick the last clutch of drunken lawyers out of the venue at 3am, the conference actually went all right. Boring even. They were happy lawyers.
Is there such a thing as a happy lawyer? I’ve heard they have the highest suicide rate of any profession. And they did pick some noticeably depressing songs for their karaoke. But in the end they claimed to have had a really good event, and I got two hugs and a kiss from the organizer. He’d had quite a few beers.
Truthfully, I don’t mind working through to the wee hours of the morning. I’ll keep smiling and keep alert. I’ll help polish glasses behind the bar, or dance and sing along to the DJ in the boring bits. All of that’s normal to me. What I do mind is the obligation to turn up early the next day for another demanding client. I mind the sense of being indispensable, and the drudgery of being promised to everybody. There’s a point where it’s unreasonable.
Mystery wedding is tomorrow. It could go two ways: either the bride will be totally relaxed and not care about anything (hence the fact we’ve been struggling to get any information from her), or she’ll go berserk because we’re not psychic.
I have replaced the suggested Christmas tractor centerpieces with the more sensible and boring “vase with white stones and a candle”. Snore. She should count herself lucky.