Oh man, I’m in for it now. Without getting into too much detail here, suffice it to say that things have suddenly come to a head at my job.

One of the supervisors here is, to put it charitably, an evil spawn of Satan from hell. A few months ago she put my family through some tremendous grief because of her outrageous behavior, until the department finally found enough of their stones to transfer her out. Let’s not fire her though, the same woman who would follow men into the bathrooms just so she could continue wailing on them, the same woman who would throw herself on the ground and scream at the top of her lungs because somebody didn’t sign in on time, the same woman with a file so thick it’s got it’s own set of wheels. Nah, let’s transfer her out and then put her on a promotion list. That’ll fix her.

And now she’s back, all because of some spat my dumbass boss had with one of my coworkers, who then whined to the chief of the department, who then in a moment of what he probably thought was sheer brilliance, reshuffled our section so that Devil Woman ends up sitting at the desk RIGHT next to mine. But technically she’s not our boss, it’s just that the desk is the only place she can sit to oversee the “special project” the department head now assigned her, while our esteemed supervisor and bold leader continues to hide out in some corner of the building the way he always does. But she’s not going to bother us, right? After all, she’s still not our boss or anything, so she couldn’t possibly have the gall to start micro-managing us, turn off our radios, or scream in our ears whenever we make the mistake of looking her way, right?

Oh wait, yes she could.

This latest move was so scandalous that I was getting calls from coworkers warning me about what happened before I came in. So I called my union president and demanded that this be dealt with immediately. They’re trying to put off the inevitable by just moving her around as much as they can, but everywhere she goes she leaves a path of destruction, and eventually, there just isn’t going to be any place left to put her.

I drew my line in the sand though, and made it known that this crap was going to end one way or another, right here, right now. I took a personal day today, but as it stands, I won’t be returning back to work until she’s gone, or until they transfer me into a division where I’ll finally be able to get to work with real human beings who aren’t mentally psycho out of their arse fricking minds.

If nothing is done by this week’s end, I stand to lose about a week’s pay, but fortunately I’ll be off next week, so the sting won’t be too bad. But… if nothing is done by Thanksgiving, ho’ boy. I’ll also be speaking with the director of our agency (the head honcho), and from what I hear he seems to be a standup guy, but we’ll see.

What a mess. But really, enough is enough, and I just about @#% had enough of the corruption and depravity of this department.

Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies. - Andy Dufresne, The Shawshank Redemption

There are times when life really gets me down, and during those moments I’m often guilty of having a defeatist attitude about things. When I see a hurdle that seems insurmountable, I figure what’s the point in trying to leap it, I’m never gonna succeed anyway. The odds are always against me, so why bother?

Then I learned a little lesson recently. One of my most favorite Snapple flavors is Diet Iced Tea-Lemonade. I could drink gallons of this stuff in a day and still never get bored. But then suddenly I had a hard time finding it anywhere. The local supermarkets no longer seemed to stock them, so on a friend’s suggestion I decided to email Snapple. I figured it can’t hurt, even though I expected my email would be ignored. Nobody cares what I think anyway.

Well, I actually did get a response, but they said they were no longer distributing that flavor and would be discontinuing it due to low demand.

Figures. Why did I bother to send the email anyway? Really, when is a major corporation gonna care about anything I had to say? I’m just one guy after all. And I’m not even good looking.

Then a few months later, I hit one of the local supermarkets to get some grub and was shocked to find STACKS of Diet Iced Tea-Lemonade Snapples littered all over the place. Now every supermarket had ‘em on the shelves, so I started buying up cases like crazy as soon as there was a sale. You should see my apartment right now, it looks like a Snapple warehouse.

I guess Snapple had a change of heart, but whether I was part of the reason why or not, I got the point.

If you have something to say, then your voice should be heard, regardless of whether anyone is listening or not. If we lay down our arms, accepting defeat, we will never have victory. But if we stand up and fight and let our voice be heard, whether it’s for justice, (or to get back a favorite drink), then we have hope. We may not always have the victory, but we will always have hope of one.

So in all things, let us hope. Hope for a better future. Hope for justice to prevail. Hope for good to triumph over evil. Hope that Jessica Alba will someday give me a call.

The Californian fires got me thinking about how much worth people place on material possessions, and how quickly it can all be lost through circumstances beyond our control. It’s so difficult and takes so long to build up our material wealth, and yet the cruelties of life have shown us that in a mere moment it can all be taken away.

I certainly learned that lesson when I lost my house and found myself utterly homeless for the first time in my life. The feeling that you suddenly have no place on earth anymore to call home is simply indescribable. It was surreal for me, and the shock of that experience changed me forever. These days I no longer place any value in owning a home, and I continue to wittle down my possessions in order to make myself more mobile. Nowadays I place my value in my independence and the freedom of not being tied down to one location. I want to be able to move any where on a dime’s notice, and as a result I’ve been making it a rule of mine to ensure I don’t own more than what I can fit into my own car. Fortunately though I own a SUV.

For the longest time I’ve romanticized the idea of living a nomadic lifestyle, and whenever disaster strikes somewhere in the U.S., I liked the idea that such a lifestyle meant I could just hop in my car and go to lend whatever helping hand I could. I hated to watch these kinds of events unfold, (such as the fires happening now), while I was stuck on the sidelines, tied down to a dead end job, suffering from poor health and with bills that never seem to stop coming. I haven’t entirely proved myself useless though, since I’m using my income to help provide for relatives in need, but there was a part of me that always held on to the notion that I was meant to do more. Not merely token gestures of charity, but the capacity to truly help those in need in ways I’m either incapable or have been unwilling to do now.

To me this felt like the real way to live. It would feel right. It would feel JUST.

There’s a Hebrew word that describes my feelings here, down to a T. The word is Tzedakah, and while it is translated to mean “charity” in English, in truth the meaning is much deeper than that. According to Judaism 101:

“Tzedakah” is the Hebrew word for the acts that we call “charity” in English: giving aid, assistance and money to the poor and needy or to other worthy causes. However, the nature of tzedakah is very different from the idea of charity. The word “charity” suggests benevolence and generosity, a magnanimous act by the wealthy and powerful for the benefit of the poor and needy. The word “tzedakah” is derived from the Hebrew root Tzadei-Dalet-Qof, meaning righteousness, justice or fairness. In Judaism, giving to the poor is not viewed as a generous, magnanimous act; it is simply an act of justice and righteousness, the performance of a duty, giving the poor their due.

When I first started this blog I was under the belief that I would eventually attend law school so I could help find justice for those in need as an attorney, and when those plans fell through, I felt like my life was basically over, and as a result I sunk even further in my depression. Before the thought of law school I once had a lifelong dream of establishing a career in law enforcement, but after 7 years of working in one of the most corrupt law enforcement agencies I’ve ever witnessed in all of creation, that dream was pretty much derailed as well.

Law enforcement didn’t pan out, the legal profession didn’t pan out, so where was I supposed to find justice?

Then I thought, maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. It’s a given that God never sees things the way we do, and maybe there’s huge part of a picture in all this that I’ve just haven’t been able to see yet. Maybe the kind of justice I’m looking for can’t be found in a courtroom, or from wearing a badge. Instead of letting myself completely unravel and succumbing to my depression, it might be time to consider that there really is a life being prepared for me that will end up being better than anything I’ve ever imagined, and the kind of justice I seek and find in that life will prove to be more profound and far more rewarding. I just need to believe it again.

I still have a long way to go before I can finally consider myself ready for such a life, but it’s time I broke this cycle of despair and began my own personal basic training program.

The saga at work continued today as I signed in and was immediately tapped by the boss to go talk to him in his office.

“Linc, you made a lot of mistakes yesterday on the phone.”

No sh–, Sherlock. Maybe it might just have something to do with the fact that I’m HEARING IMPAIRED??

“Well, like I indicated earlier, I have trouble with the phones because of my hearing loss, which is compounded by the fact that during those hours, we usually get calls from clerks who are hard to understand and speak broken English.”

“Ok, but it’s your responsibility to get those calls and accurately take down the information.”

What the hell??

“Dude, my responsibility only goes so far as I am properly accommodated,” I said, barely managing to contain my anger. “We all had an understanding here that there would always be someone with me to handle the phones, so this situation is usually avoided altogether. That’s the way it’s been done for years, and we’ve never had a problem.”

“Well I’m no longer authorizing overtime, so there won’t be people available to stay at those hours.”

“If Mickey or Prue agree to come in at 9 instead of 6:30AM, that should help cover the hours, and there won’t be any need for overtime, right?”

“……………………………”

“Right??”

“It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

Then he gave me this song and dance about how I would have to draw up a proposal, that the union would need to get involved, and he would have to present it to his boss, who would then have to sign off on it, blah blah blah…. I looked at him like he had lost his mind. The workers in my division have had to change working hours continuously over the past few years, but whenever a change needed to be made, it never needed anything more than a simple verbal agreement from our former bosses. So it was understandable that I was left to wonder what in the blue frick this guy was talking about. I realized though that I was getting fed the same bull as before when I made the scheduling request to have my hours changed so I could attend law school. I knew now that he had been jerking me around since the beginning.

And then he said something I’ll never forget.

“Look, if you’re not willing to take on the responsibility of answering the phones, we may be forced to dock your pay.”

“So because I have a hearing disability, I should be punished because you refuse to accommodate me?”

I think he realized his slip, because he started to backpedal. But the cat had already been out of the bag. He had just broken federal law with his threat, crossing a line that kindled something fierce inside me. I had been wronged. My coworkers had been wronged. He was a bully, a liar, and a horrible supervisor. And now I was going to make him pay. I was out for blood. I felt a charge in my veins, and a light somewhere inside my head went on. I knew what it was too: the unmistakable and unquenchable thirst for JUSTICE. It fed my desire to get into law enforcement. It was what fueled my efforts to pursue law school.

And now it had been kicked into overdrive.

I drew up a letter that detailed every grievance I had with him, along with the grievances my coworkers also had. I also got out my camera and took pictures of the mouse droppings that have been on the desks. Armed with all this, I went to see my union rep, a spunky lady who had successfully gone to bat for us in the past, and laid it all out for her. People high up the chain of command were notified, a buzz of activity had taken place behind the scenes, and I now find myself gearing up for what is sure to be an interesting (and perhaps volatile) confrontation tomorrow with my good boss when he realizes what I’ve done.

War has been declared.

Lies, betrayal, and deceit at long last put the final nail in the coffin of my law school dreams.

Well I wanted an answer, and after 18 months I finally got it in spades. When it happened, my anger once again reared its ugly head as I began to shake my fist at God for all the grief He’s allowed me to endure, but afterwards I began to resign myself to my fate. In a way I’m glad it’s over. While I may be destined to drift through life with no sense of purpose or meaning, I was at least relieved of the trauma 3-4 years of law school would almost certainly have brought me.

But after taking communion and reflecting on the events of the past week, I was directed to read Psalms 73 and Psalms 92, verses that talk about God taking vengeance on our enemies. So maybe this isn’t quite over just yet.

In any event, I wonder why I had to enter my thirties still without any clue as to what career might best suit me. I grew up falling in love with the notion of solving mysteries and clearing cases, and because of it I always thought law enforcement was where I belonged. For whatever reason I loved the idea of justice, of being the guy who could help put right where people did wrong. The shows I watched and the books I read all fed my passion of uncovering hidden truths, exposing lies, solving crimes, and of course, catching the bad guys.

I started college with my heart set on what I thought was the right profession. I had dreams, aspirations, and eagerly looked forward to a promising future in the career of my choosing. I saw myself being well established in the profession by the time I turned 30, married to the love of my life, and perhaps even a father to several wonderful children.

Instead, graduation from college would see me become unemployed for almost 2 years, then evicted illegally onto the streets, and finally trapped in a dead end job as a no name clerk. At 30 years of age, I had accomplished nothing. I was a failure. I was nothing more than a vagabond with a job, a helpless prey to my enemies.

It was evident that only God could salvage the mess that I had made of my life. And it is what I hope for, in spite of all the fist shaking.

After weeks of despairing over whether I should attend law school or not, I eventually began to forget why I even wanted to become a lawyer in the first place. Then a few things happened this week:

A friend and co-worker of mine is currently dealing with an out of control boss who recently got in his face the other day. From what I hear, she was one unstable psychopath who got transferred to his department because HQ couldn’t deal with her. She had a history of micromanaging others, emotional outbursts and other inappropriate behavior. One day she was pulling her usual stunts and when my friend confronted her (nicely) about it, she went ape. Got up and wagged her finger in his face, literally screaming her head off. My friend was afraid for his safety, because not only was she acting completely unhinged, she was also packing a gun. Not a very healthy combination if you ask me.

So now my friend has to have a meeting with the higher ups along with union reps and other parties to sort this crap out. I asked him if he felt she was going to hit him when she got in his face, and when I did my mind immediately started thinking, “She may have assaulted him, since she placed him in an imminent apprehension of a battery. He has a legal cause of action here.” Suddenly, it was like several lights had gone on inside my head. I was beginning to remember.

Considering what my friend now has to deal with because of this incident, it occurred to me: what he needed was a good lawyer.

Then I had another friend who was applying to take a civil service exam as a typist. The exam only required one year’s clerical experience, and since she had been in the workforce for so many years doing all kinds of jobs, including those that required clerical skills, she figured there’d be no problem.

They rejected her. Took the application fee she paid and rejected her for lack of experience. !??!?!?! It wasn’t a mistake either. This is a woman with a college education, and she was barred from even TAKING the civil exam for lack of clerical experience?? She felt her civil rights had been violated.

Once again it occurred to me: what she needed was a good lawyer.

Now I remember why I wanted to be an attorney: JUSTICE. I wanted justice for these people. They had been WRONGED, and as I listened to these stories, I was the guy who wanted to make it RIGHT again. For me, being an attorney wasn’t about making money. It wasn’t about drawing up wills, or working corporate law, or working in a big time law firm so I could make partner after sweating blood for 10 or 20 years.

No, it was all about making things RIGHT again. It was about bringing peace where chaos existed, finding reconciliation between two aggrieved parties, defending the defenseless, and protecting the rights of the poor.

It was about JUSTICE.

I always knew what I wanted to do in life, and I realized that itself was never the problem. It was finding the proper medium in which I could fulfill these lifelong desires that had been the subject of so much agonizing and confusion. What field could help me make the kind of difference I was seeking to make? As I realize the answer to that question, I also realize that this is an endeavor that can only succeed if God blesses it.

Where there is no God, there is no justice. If I choose the legal profession, I need to be able to choose it with the knowledge that God will be int it, and that he will honor the desires of my heart to make things right again.