Sunday, May 18, 2014

Mapping, part 2

 On a Saturday evening, after mowing my lawn and showering, I began to draft my journey map.  In Excel.  Because I'm super-cool like that. 

I'd be percolating on this since Wednesday, not thinking about it very hard, but letting myself absorb that I wanted to devote it some attention. 

Is it bad to confess I was a bit afraid of this?  I have a friend who did an intensive yoga retreat in Vietnam last year.  Even listening to her talk about it Freaked Me Out.  I don't want to explore the depths of my soul.  Or reach the boundaries of my consciousness.  That's releasing control over your boundaries and I like my boundaries. 

I still have recurring dreams of being driven somewhere - often in a school bus - and very suddenly going over an edge and down a deep incline.  Though the bus remains on the road, I am unanchored and lift up, plucked from my seat by forces beyond me.  I typically wake, frantically looking around and ahead, seeking something to which I can cling or hoping the road levels so I can find a seat to support me again.

Point is why would I want to delve deeper into a brain so scary?  I'm good with superficial knowledge, thanks.   

Anyway.  Back to mapping!

I had three columns - (1) Month, Year (2) Feelings on an arbitrary scale from -10 to 10, (3) Notes.   I added the colors later - ignore those if you're following along on your own journey map.  (In Excel.  Because you're super-cool like that too!)

I quickly found that I could best assess my past if I looked at May as that's when the academic year typically ended for me.  I added extra time points as they struck me as important but I set my minimum sampling at May.    I finished with May, 2014, so I have a current state.  There's no particular reason I started in 7th grade - it felt like my first "professional" accomplishment and gave me upwards of 20 years to consider patterns. 

I may have scrunched up my face in thought to get a Feelings Number but I tried not to think about it too much.  I made it a 'your first answer is probably the right answer' exercise so I worked pretty quickly, going back and inserting rows if I realized I'd forgotten something I wanted to capture or adjusting values if I found my scale was a bit off. 

Also recall that I did this at night.  I'm sharp in the mornings - my brain is nimble and fast.  Like a ninja.  Or an otter.  An otter ninja!  At night, my brain more resembles a befuddled yet emotional elephant  - the edges of thoughts blur, I'm much more likely to get upset - angry, sad, anxious - depends on the day.  So I tapped into the emotions that tend to linger closer to the surface at night for me. 

I was oddly disappointed when I inserted myself a line graph and did not find my squiggly line profoundly informative.  I poked the screen of my laptop with my finger, befuddled-elephant-brain wanting it to tell me something.  Upon admitting it was going to remain a squiggle and smiling over how I could see some Ms - "M is my middle initial!" I giggled - I closed the laptop and went to bed.

When I realized the ends of those Ms looked remarkably like my dreams.  Sharp, surprising declines that leave me floating frighteningly above the ground, grasping for help that won't come fast enough.

Closing the laptop quickly, I calmed myself and climbed the stairs to snuggle in bed and sleep.  I'd think about the rest later.  

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Mom Flies Solo


My parents spent February, 2012, just south of Tampa Bay.  Dad didn't feel well during that trip, though they did have a nice time.  Returning home the first of March, Mom made an appointment for him to see our family doctor and he was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer on March 16. 

Aunt and Uncle have taken this February Florida trip for years now and while they let Mom stay with me in 2013, they nudged her to join them this year.  She agonized over the decision - she and Aunt talked, she and I talked, she and Uncle talked.  Repeatedly. 

It was at last decided that she didn't want to stay the whole month.  She would instead fly to join them for the middle two weeks.

I blinked at her when she told me, but quickly recovered to smile encouragingly.  "Great!" I said.  "I'll fly down with you and then fly back the same day.  And we'll do that again when you return."

"No," she replied firmly, though her chin quivered nervously.  "I can do this." 

So I watched her make reservations.  Helped her pack, walked her through what would happen at check-in and security and while boarding.  Told her to ask for help if she grew confused - she's such a sweet lady.  People would help her.

I checked her in the day before, frowning thoughtfully at her ticket.  It had merged her middle initial with her first name - making her a Judithe.  But there were three letters - lower case i - at the end of our last name.  I snorted, almost choking myself when I figured it out.

"You must have accidentally filled in the suffix when you made reservations," I told her, chuckling at her outraged denial.  "You made yourself Judithe, the third."  After assuring her it wouldn't matter and showing her the websites that reassured her, we giggled about it.  I took to calling her "i-i-i."

We drove to the airport in the predawn hours on a Sunday.  I kept expecting her to refuse to go so I could whisk her safely home. 

She did not.  We checked in, printing her boarding passes and asking the nice airline representative about the "iii."  She told us it was fine, smiling warmly at my mother and promising she would be fine.  I walked with her to security, leading her to the entrance of the empty maze of ropes before a TSA guy waved her over to the first class line instead. 

"I'm proud of you," I whispered, hugging tightly and pressing a kiss to her cheek.  She nodded, chin trembling, and took her bags from me and moved toward the ID-checker.  She turned to wave before moving to unpack her luggage as we'd practiced and I waved back, standing on tip-toes so I could continue to watch. 

She motioned to her knees - they've been replaced - and leaned closer to listen as they explained the stance you take in the scanner.  And then I smiled as she gathered her bags and walked toward her gate, dutifully checking the monitor as we'd discussed. 

She texted me from Atlanta, saying she'd made friends on the plane and they helped her find the train to her connecting flight, despite ATL being their final destination.  Then she made another friend who watched her bags while she went to the restroom.

She enjoyed the weeks at the beach - wandering the shore, exploring shops and restaurants and spending time with Aunt, Uncle and other couples.  And she missed my Dad.  But she did OK.

I went to fetch her late one Thursday, rushing to meet her as she emerged from the concourse, looking exhausted but happy. 

"Hi!" I greeted her, practically bouncing.  "I missed you!  You did it!  How was it?!" 

"It was hard," she told me, smoothing my hair as I took her luggage and widened my eyes and how heavy it was.  "Presents," she noted, nodding at the smaller - and heavier - of the bags.  "But I did it," she said and I nodded, immeasurably proud of her.  "Let's go home."

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Mapping, part 1



"Where do you see yourself next?" he asked and I cocked my head at him. 

We'd been discussing organizational changes.  Growing pains.  What was working and what wasn't.  I find I'm fond of him - this new manager with a team parallel to my own.  So when he asked if I had a moment after we completed a meeting early, I strode - in my nude kitten heels - toward his office.  We sat around his desk and talked - I tried to answer his questions fairly but offered enough criticism to be helpful.

"For my next role?" I clarified and pressed my lips together when he nodded.  "I don't know."

"You must know," he replied, smiling, for I am a thoughtful person to the point of being neurotic.

"Not really," I stated slowly.  "I want to be a better person. That's what I know."

"What does that mean?" he asked, leaning toward me behind the closed door in his office.

"I don't know, exactly," I sighed.   "I had a plan once.  And then my parents got cancer and..."

"You told me," he offered when I trailed off and I nodded, not recalling that conversation.  I tried to remember, wondering how often I repeat it.  My parents diagnosed.  My dad died.  I miss him so much and remain so sad that it all happened. 

Life doesn't always work out, I wanted to confide.  You don't know what will happen and you plan and train and fight and win and then when the biggest battle is before you?  You're as helpless as if you'd done nothing at all.  All the knowledge and contacts and strings to pull?  It matters not.  God's will be done.

"The business won't tell you what you want," he finally said as he watched me struggle, sympathy lingering in his dark eyes.  "You have to decide where you find purpose and joy and then drive toward that.  You have talent, Katie.  I see you being capable of so much.  But you need direction and must find that for yourself."

"I don't know how," I admitted softly.  "I mean, I've thought about it.  I really have.  I want to do good work - find something important and do really well at it.  I want to work with people who are happy and fulfilled.  I want to be good at what I'm doing now."

"You are," he stated quickly.  "Let's move to what's next."  At my raised eyebrow, he rose from his chair and began to draw on the board.  The green marker moved, creating axes with little pluses and minuses and a wiggly line moving in the space they defined. 

"Draw a journey map," he assigned.  "Take the last 10 years - 20, 30, whatever - and remember what made you happy, hopeful, strong and what was sad, difficult, upsetting.  Your parents - that's the low point.  You're climbing back from there and that's hard.  So think back to when you felt good and figure out how to get there again."

"OK," I said, staring at the green squiggle for a moment before deciding I would try.  Go back through blog posts.  Think.  I would use Excel to assign numerical scores to my mood and what happened in my life. 

"Two weeks," he said before rushing off to a meeting.  "We review your map and define next steps."

I nodded before gathering my bag and glancing at the board one more time.  I seem to have inadvertently found a mentor, I decided, somewhat bemused.  Maybe things do happen when they're supposed to happen.

God's will be done. 











Sunday, May 11, 2014

The More Things Change...

I felt my lips curve from involuntary amusement when I realized my last three purchases had been bags.  I can recall arranging my purses and totes, carryalls and laptop bags to demonstrate the breadth of options I required once upon a time. 

I've donated many of those.  Decided to simplify.  Feel proud that I consistently carry the same navy bag, ensuring its designer label faces outward proudly.  I purchased it with a work award, beaming at it upon arrival for I now have a nice bag. 

Then, awaiting a trip to Europe, I delved into credit card points and bought a new backpack.  My old one is literally falling apart.  I accidentally became infatuated with a Coach wristlet while browsing so I decided to have that as my very own too. 

So despite despairing that I have lost some essential element of myself, I remain constantly Katie.  I buy too many bags.  I have an inordinate fondness for cut flowers.  I try to be kind but am too impatient and irritable to consistently succeed.  I love God.  But too often absently - without the dedication and devotion that relationship deserves. 

"Do you miss it?" Two friends - old ones with whom I've not spoken much since taking my new job almost 2 years ago - asked gently when we connected for lunch.  In response to my inquiring expression and cocked head, they elaborated.  "The travel.  The stress.  The potential for promotion." 

"Ah," I replied, considering it.  "Sometimes?  Not often.  Work stuff aligned the way it should have.  I love being here for my mom.  I needed the steadiness.  The knowledge that I could do a good job but not kill myself.  But I do miss the travel - I'm craving Europe like you wouldn't believe."

But just when I was feeling increasingly unsettled - am I not important enough to travel?  Why am I not recognized for the work I do for projects that are increasingly high-profile?  Is this organization career-limiting?  And, if so, given my salary and stress level, do I care? - circumstances shifted. 

I was granted permission to go to Europe at the end of May, an event that sends me researching hotels on my iPad twice daily.  I'm visiting two new places (to me - centuries old unto themselves) and one familiar locale.  I was appointed to a different project and somehow gained the visibility I seem to seek.  And I was appointed to a committee that aims to address some shortcomings in my group - a difficult task to be sure, but one I feel is important and urgent.  I recognize such talent and passion and creativity in my peers (and managers) that I feel is being misunderstood and unused. 

It pleases me that when I have little energy for much of anything, I remain - or perhaps have become - an outspoken advocate for morale. 

I listened - over a different lunch - to a brand new colleague talk about her long-term plans.  I smiled and nodded over promotions and leadership roles she had in mind.  Offered advice when asked.  Made encouraging comments when appropriate. 

"What about you?" she asked when we were nearly out of soda.

"Long-term?" I asked and shrugged when she nodded. 

"I want to be a better person," I told her.  "I'm not sure what that means exactly but that's the goal."

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

Year in Review

There is an odd disconnect.  

I attended a conference recently (ish) and found myself embracing colleagues I'd not seen in over a year.  

"Hello," I'd say, sometimes still holding tight.  

"I'm fine," I'd answer when asked and would elaborate that I was quite good at my new job and, yes, it could be viewed as a stumble back when most expected me to pounce forward.

"My parents got cancer," I'd explain, trying to remember the Katie who existed before March, 2012.  "And we lost my dad."  Sometimes I'd cry.  Others I could blink back tears.  Mourning, I think, not only Daddy and for Mom - who just hasn't been happy since - but me.  That brightness that I seem to recall but may be getting wrong.

When I think back over 2013, I recognize that I was aware of days passing.  I sign a lot of documents so I'm aware of the progression of days.  But considering events?  Moments of joy or surprise or laughter or that sharpness of longing?  I look up and to the left expectantly, hoping my brain is embarrassed at my prompting gaze and comes up with something I could write down.

January
I turned 34...  Oh!  They decorated my desk at work - my second of three spots since taking this job - with balloons and streamers and magnets.  I got flowers.  It was actually really lovely.  (Good job, brain!)

February
I'm pretty sure I was in Europe.  I say that because my desktop photo on this AirBook I rarely open is of Zurich.  So I think that was when I did a Switzerland, France, Germany swing.  I threw up all over a hotel room outside Paris - I remember that more than I wish I did.  

I recall the train from Zurich to Paris though - of staring out the window as the countryside rushed by and thinking that it was still amazing to be in Europe.  Exciting.  Beautiful.  

As I spoke to new colleagues in the airport, I realized I didn't want my old job anymore.  And I was walked through Munich in the snow with my new boss, searching for beer and sausages and pretzels, I watched the snowflakes fall on old fountains and swirl around ornate steeples and smiled, even as I rushed to catch up with him.  

March
Mom turned 64.  I think we started seriously considering having her move in with me around then.  Otherwise, I probably played on my iPad.

April
Worked?  More playing on iPad?

Might have gone on a short business trip?

May
Please see April.  

June
We were launching a new process that I was to manage.  So I was working a lot.  (Still found time to play on iPad.)

July
Alaskan Cruise!  With the otters and elderly people and gospel singers!  I actually had a really lovely time - marveled at nature, learned songs about Jesus, hung out with my mom.

August
Mom and the Ones (my nieces) were here for the day Dad died.  We stayed busy.  Took a tour of a nearby city on a boat and bus.  Did projects.  Took long walks.  It was actually far less terrible than I expected.

Then the girls went back to school and Mom moved in.  Sort of.  She still goes back and forth fairly regularly but rarely stays at my parents' house.  She'll mostly be here or with Aunt and Uncle.  But it's going reasonably well.  Mostly.

"My son had on a stained shirt this morning for school," NewBoss sighed while we were waiting for everyone to join a conference call.

"My son had to have Nike socks so I spent a fortune on Nike socks and then he wouldn't wear the Nike socks today!" A colleague exclaimed.  

After we'd laughed for a minute, I offered that my mom had asked if I was really going to wear this top with this skirt as I'd walked out the door.  "So maybe you parents should calm down about us kids," I decided.  


September
I visited Friend!  It was long-overdue and probably too short but we talked and ate and shopped and visited the waterfall-that-wasn't.  (I think those 2 sentences cover the extent of my socialization in 2013.)

Massive documentation exercise in owning this new program.  So Many Forms.  

October
Audit on September's work.  

Audits are tough - I've now had three.  With a good auditor, I understand the benefit.  She may have ideas on how to better manage certain sub-processes.  Can identify common errors and make some off-the-record suggestions on how to correct those.  May mix encouraging statements in with the demeaning "this is how you failed at your job" listing of offenses.  

With a bad auditor?  It's soul-sucking - makes me want to stab someone with a pencil, make sarcastic comments and list my qualifications because I get so miserably defensive.  

November
Depression.  Visited new doctor to get more medication.  With Dad's birthday and my parents' anniversary looming near the end of the month, I was down-down-down.  Luckily, my new job is way flexible and I can work on projects when I can't sleep at night or fuss with documentation even when I'm blank and sad.  So while I was down, I wasn't self-destructive.  And that was a comfort.  

December
Mom and I have settled in at a new church - by far the most liberal religious institution I've ever experienced - but it's nice.  I think I like it.  

Mom had the main floor of my house painted as a Christmas gift - it's Navajo white with some accents of Ivoire.  We left the ceilings white so the contrast - while very gentle - makes me happy.  

We had a nice, low-key Christmas.  We did go back to Illinois for a day to spend time with my Aunt's family - we'd skipped it last year so the kids look so old to me.  (They're in 3rd grade.)  I cuddled with the puppies (!!!) and kept asking them when they'd become dogs.  

The Ones returned to the frozen north with us and convinced me to give them their gifts.  (I had purchased Saige and Emily from American Girl.  Even though they creep me out a little bit - they really are lovely dolls.)  

[Side Note:  Little One is beautiful.  Quiet and smart and bookish like her Aunt Katie.  (Also selfish and overly sensitive.  Like her Aunt Katie...)  She loves to read and plays with dolls and went hunting (WTF?!) this year with her mom's boyfriend.  But that's OK - nobody needs to be exactly like Aunt Katie (obviously) - so I'm proud of her for exploring.  I just wish there were less dead animals in said exploration.

[Smallest One is a character.  Precocious and charming and quick and ever-so-funny.  She's learning karate and made Mom cry when - after breaking a board with a backward kick - she presented the pieces to her grandmother as a sign of respect and love.  She still drinks pink milk and watches my SpongeBob DVDs when she comes to visit.]

Brother followed the next day, having managed one more shift before heading north.  He's largely the same - doing well at work and I'm proud of his stability and talent.  He's funny and loving yet still has the quick temper that we try to work around.  

They all resent me a bit for taking Mom away, which I understand and accept without comment.  The truth is that she needs someone around regularly and Brother and the Ones aren't able to offer that.  Their Years-in-Review would be too full already and occasional visits are no longer enough.  Mom is without part of herself.  And I'm obviously in a position to offer support and attention and my regular presence and I'm honored to do that.  

But perhaps that's a story for another time.

January 1, 2014
After moving all the furniture for painting, we reorganized.  I moved a chaise into my office and relocated my oft-ignored Mac to the room with my books.  

Today, I moved some large pillows to said chaise to make it more inviting.  Then I sat and began to type.  Perhaps I want to remember more.  Or try to find that person I was before.  Be a better person - more centered and thoughtful and loving.  

So without grand promises or resolutions, I hope I find that here.  And that - for any of you left - you have a happy and blessed New Year.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

In Search of Sea Otters

I love otters.  The flippers.  Their noses.  The soft, dense fur.  The speed and elegance with which they move through the water despite their cuddly appearance.  

And so, when we dropped anchor and floated near Sitka, I convinced Mom to de-boat, as she called it, on a tender and we boarded a smaller watercraft for a pricey fee but with a guarantee that we'd see wildlife.  An otter, whale or bear or we each would get $100.

And so we set off on the Sea Otter Express.  Settling inside the heated cabin, we arranged ourselves with binoculars and cameras and sighed over the beauty - the shades of blue, the multitude of islands, the forest.  

I smiled every time someone would gasp over a sighting - the fin of a whale or flight of an eagle or jumping of a random fish.  I soon grew antsy, impatient with the barrier between the animals and my camera, and zipped my sweatshirt and climbed up the narrow steps to perch on the open deck.  

There was a certain sort of wonder up there.  Of whimsy.  Of peace.  Breathing in the air that was the perfect cool-not-cold.  Feeling the wind tangle my hair as I sighed and searched the horizon for bumps on the water.


"That's an island," our guide noted when people took too many pictures of a small rock jutting from the water.  "We sometimes confuse it for a critter, but it isn't."

When we frowned our disappointment, he smiled and promised we'd find something alive to photograph.  And we did, slowing to follow an orca as she swept across the water near the surface, emerging so we could admire her white markings that just barely broke the surface.

We watched people fish for salmon in a sheltered cove.   I pondered the jellyfish - the giant gelatinous masses floating below the surface - and wrinkled my nose at them.  I focused my attention on the orange starfish that rested just below the surface.

"They're very tough creatures," our guide noted.  "Sometimes under water.  Sometimes above.  Sometimes hot in the sun.  Often frozen from the cold.  Subjected to salt in the ocean and fresh water from rain.  They just adapt."

So I admired that resilience until we sped away in search of the treasure - the otters I'd so wanted to see.


 "There they are," our guide noted.  "See those dots in the water?  There's a raft of them resting over there.  We'll try to get closer and hope they don't mind us watching them."

So we did.  And they didn't.

Utterly (otterly!) charmed, I took upwards of 40 pictures that are all a bit blurry.  You have to want to see the otters to truly appreciate these photos.  But they napped as they floated, occasionally one would grow curious and pop up to look at us.  Finding us acceptable, they would return to their supine position, tucking furry chin to sleek chest and resting once again.

 We floated there for long minutes, leaving only after we'd alerted the other tours and not wanting to form a crowd and cause the otters to depart.

"It's a humpback," the guide cried a bit later and we paused in open ocean in hopes of watching it dive.

And that's when I grew queasy.  The bobbing motion of the boat at odds with the gentle sway of the cruise ship to which I'd adjusted.  I blinked rapidly.  Focused on the horizon.  Sipped some peppermint tea while sitting back inside with my 'having a lovely time/not sick at all!' mother.

But as we lingered and rode the waves up and down and up and down, I swallowed against the nausea.  And when the kindly tour people offered salmon for a snack, I had to escape to the aft deck again.

"Salmon?" the guide asked as I stood there, clinging to the railing and trying to think of the otters who'd  made me so happy such a short time before.

"I will throw it up all over this boat," I replied and he looked closer and told me I was a bit green.  Patting the hand that clung to the railing, he promised it would pass and departed.  Leaving me to give myself hiccups in an attempt not to vomit.


"I was fine," Mom offered happily when she helped me up the ramp on the dock as my head was still swimming.  "I had a great time!"

I made a noise in response, found a soda and found that I rapidly felt better once the world stabilized around me.

A sea star, I am not.

But I do have otter pictures.  And because I want to see that they're otters, I do.  So now you can too.

Friday, August 09, 2013

Counsel?


(This is a photo from the aft deck en route to Alaska.  It has nothing whatsoever to do with the rest of this post.  But look!  Pretty!)

When I was in 3rd grade, we hung projects in the hallway that described what we wanted to be when we grew up.  I still recall mine - the wide-ruled notebook paper beside a hand-drawn picture upon which we posted a school photo of our faces.

Crayon-drawn Katie (with actual-photo head) was standing in a courtroom, emerging as a victorious lawyer from some undoubtedly critical case.  I had, after all, seen lawyers on TV and that's what I wanted to do.  Aid the downtrodden.  Give voice to the wrongfully accused.  Fight the power.

Then I grew up.

And met some actual lawyers.

And quickly adjusted my goals.

Now, some 25 years later (crap - can that be right?), I find myself with a fondness for most of the lawyerly with whom I'm acquainted.  They know big words.  They think with a certain clarity.  They ask interesting questions and can often distill complex situations into the most relevant points.

But have you met a corporate lawyer?

I have.  A few of them.

[Q: Are you able to define 'a few'?
A: I don't remember exactly.
Q: Do you know more than 1 corporate lawyer?
A: Yes.
Q: More than 2?
A: Yes.
Q: More than 10?
A: Probably not.
Q: So less than 10?
A:  I think so.
Q: More than 5?
A: Yes.
Q: More than 7?
A: Yes.  Eight, OK?  I've met eight corporate lawyers.
And that's why you want to stab yourself or others with a pencil during a deposition.  Because who cares?]
I will admit that sometimes that attention to detail - that application of knowledge and definition of fact and separation from opinion or interpretation - can be exquisitely useful.  When I have a complicated problem and need direction?

I call counsel.

Ah, but then...  They trick you into thinking they're lovely people.  Bright, funny, wonderful conversational companions!

So you start a conversation and ask for a simple contract to be drafted.  And even if you're not feeling super-great because August 13 is next week and you really, really miss your dad, you're trying hard to focus on work and get stuff done because that's a nice distraction.

And Lawyer 1 says, "Wait.  I don't think this is in scope of the procedure."

So you say, "No, no.  It is.  Blah, blah, explanation, blah, blah."

And Lawyer 2 (helpful tip from Katie - Never Let Lawyers Form Groups) gets all concerned and wants to Stop Everything while you look up the procedure and discuss the contract and examine the request and start from the very beginning again so we're sure we really understand.

Growing impatient, you look up the formal document and read it to your lawyer friends that you're starting to hate a little bit.  You explain the situation again.  In the middle of your explanation, maybe you use the wrong word.

And they pounce - both of them - voices going accusatory while they chortle between them in their lawyerly way and - even though you watch Law & Order reruns and know not to get upset or otherwise emotional - you do get upset and emotional.  And start to think you're wrong.  You're a terrible person.  Oh, this is awful - how you've willfully attempted to break the rules and ruin everything!  And you're sorry.  You'll start over.

But you keep thinking about it - on the drive to and from work, on your walks with your blind dog - and you realize that you're not wrong.  You may have misspoken but they're wrong.  And this wasn't on the record or written down.

So when you - well, when I - pushed back, I pushed back hard.  Explained my request again.  Indicated that if they thought I was out of order, they could prove it to me.  And until then - since we run a business - the time it took to escalate and get a decision (as corporate lawyers seem to really struggle to make decisions, bless their 'let's debate this some more' hearts) was going to be measured as 'legal delay.'

So now I feel mean - as they pointed out that it was uncharacteristic of me to 1) push back with such vitriol (my word - not theirs.  I know big words too!  I looked it up to make sure I was right but I had the general idea) and 2) demand others do work that I otherwise would have done myself.

I also feel ineffective as these lawyers will take months (and months) (and more months) to make this decision and I'm effectively halting my project because I'm pissy.

There's no good conclusion here - I'm standing my ground even if it is a bit shaky underneath me.  But I have two points.  1) If I had been a lawyer and ended up working for a large company, I would be much better at it.  And 2) I would like to request independent counsel.  I just need to find out how to  make sure said independent counsel if viciously efficient and effective.  I shall try to find someone from a television show.

Thank you.  Please see irrelevant photo of a glacier below.