Shingles are not just for houses

The Contracting Gig (or how I learned to stop worrying and embrace chicken pox)

I was sitting at home in my 150 ft. square "apartment" on the Lower East Side of Manhattan having a panic attack when I got a call asking me to be a "team leader" for a 3-4 month document review assignment for an unnamed plaintiff's law firm in the city. Being out of work at the time and frantically anticipating a long period of unemployment-fueled depression and anxiety, I readily accepted their terms and signed on at the rate of $40 an hour (no benefits, of course.) For those of you unfamiliar with the legal profession, and even those of you within the legal profession that are unfamiliar with the dark, murky world of document reviewing, a document review is a short-term assignment where a team of attorneys is hired for an indefinite period of time (typically 2-3 months) to review the massive amount of document ejaculated by the opposing party in large, class-action type litigations. Your average law firm either does not have the resources or the desire (typically the latter) to hire permanent workers to carry out the intensely monotonous task of reviewing millions of pages of documents, so they hire temporary workers who are paid by the hour to do this work for them.

Eventually, all these jobs are going to be shipped overseas because an Indian attorney can review and code documents two times faster and ten times cheapers than your average american reviewers. However, for the time being, these jobs are here and they are practically the only thing available to the fraternity of discarded attorneys who make up the detritus of Big Firm law (of which I am a somewhat chagrined member). For me, the whole situation was a bit of twisted irony: the same economic catastrophe that had thrown me out of work in September of 2008 was now providing me employment. It must be written somewhere that the only completely, 100% unavoidable result from an economic collapse is litigation; and it was this litigation that was now putting the chinese take-out on my table (although at the time I didn't have a table because in a 150 ft. apartment that happens to have a piano in it, there really is no room for a table, so I ate most of my meals in bed). But I digress.....

One of main tasks of a document review "team leader", I soon learned, was "managing" a team of a dozen or so attorneys tasked with the tedious job of reviewing the documents in question. Document reviewers, also known as "coders", are a notriously ragtag bunch. They have a reputation of being the dregs of polite legal society; outliers and misfits who "couldn't cut it" in Big Law, J.D.s who passed the bar on the fourth try, and of course, your assorted freaks and borderine psychotic individuals who no self-respecting law firm would let come to any company function. (For the full interets of disclosure, I should note that i readily place myself in the category of misfits and square-pegs-in-round-holes that populate the document review universe. In less than three years since passing the bar, I have had 5 different legal jobs, the last of which ended three weeks prior to the present one with me being called "the worst attorney he had ever seen" after I unceremoniously quit within two days of starting.)

Not all document reviewers are shady individuals with questionable backgrounds and even more questionable work ethic, (again, a group of under-acheivers and shirkers that I would readily place myself in). Some are hard-working, ambitious sorts who, for a variety of reasons, both those self-inflicted and those caused by the fates, find themselves at the mercy of the whims of the short-term attorney (STA) legal market. One such individual by the name of G fit squarely within this category and he, unfortunately, found himself, within the purviews of my little STA kingdom.

G was from Michigan and so of course, he possessed that sort of energetic, whatever-I-can-do-to-help-the-company attitude that seems innate to all midwesterns. I never asked what brought G to New York City, or for that matter, cared to find out. I found it best to keep my charges at a distance - perferable at a far enough distance so that they could not find me to pester me with inane questions about the tasks I had assigned them to complete. I did overhear that G was new to New York City and was living in Washington Heights, a fact to which I could only express my sincerest sympathy. He was also, it appeared, single, and nerdy in that officious, lawyerly-way that so makes so many people hate my fellow members of the bar. Given his lack of statute, his current address in the wilds of the DR, as well as his beta-male demeanour, it was not too much of a guess to deign that G would stay single for the time-being. Given my limited and mostly disastrous forays into the New York dating world, I have found that shortness of height and a lack of any of the signifiers of alpha male status (e.g. a job in "finance", an address on the Upper East Side, etc.) were non-starters with most of the women that inhabited this city. The shortness issue, it appears, is peculiarly a New York thing as when browsing the Internet dating sites for other cities, I don't see the same insistence that ones potential mate be over 5 foot 10. I can only guess that this results from our city being populated by men with an amalgam of Italian, Jewish, Hispanic, or Irish heritage.

Even with his unfortunate handicaps, I found that G proved to be a valuable Lietentant in the somewhat arduous task of managing my team; particularly because of G's habit and willingness to answer any question that any team member might ask, thus saving me from the tiresome task of having to attend to my underlings. For the first few week, I magnamoniously "delegated" a good portion of those tasks typically performed by a team leaders to G, inluding, among other things, checking the work of team members, answering all questions, and heading up the special projects which I had created to keep team members busy and off my back.

But, G, I soon learned, was an ambitous sort. Rather than accept the $32/hour salary that the firm generously granted to him (He should be happy just to have a job! said the HR rep for the firm) for fulfilling the role that rightly should have fallen to me, G lobbied the firm to take him on as a second team leader. Given my own dependence on G, I awkwardly backed G's brazen attempt to get paid what he was worth (How dare he? doesn't he know how bad the economy was?!?), at least, until the powers-that-be asked me why they should pay G extra to do a job that I shoud be doing. At that point, I performed an adroit about-face and maintained that certainly, there was no need to pay G an extra $8 an hour as I was more than up to the task of leading the team.

Duly put back into his place, a chastened (but never sullen) G went back to being my unofficial deputy - a sort of prime minister to my kingship. I grandly apologized for being unable to get him his raise (I did the best I could, man, really, I did! Those bastards!) As a consolation, I told G I would try to get his hours "uncapped" (fyi: team members are not allowed to work more than 50 hours a week for fear that the riffraf JDs would abuse the privilege of working for the firm by racking up hour-upon-hour of billed time; a fear that, I must note, is not without its justification as it is the dream of many a document reviewer to work on an uncapped project where he can while away the hours playing solitaire and checking facebook while billing $40-45 an hours.) However, I had to abandon my efforts to uncap G when the firm resisted. OK, full disclosure, as soon as the firm told me that they would have to think about uncapping G and asked me what purpose uncapping would fulfill, I told them that it was not necessary to uncap and that I would gladly take on any of his extra responsibilties. (Whatever I can do to help the firm save costs! you betcha!)

So, anyway, it's 6 weeks into the project. G is still on the special project; a thankless task that takes an extraordinary amount of tedious effort and concentration and not incidentally is cental t to the entire review. I also assigned one of the more annoying members of the team as his assistant - my rationale being that if I put the two of them together, they would ask questions of each other and thus leave me to post status updates on facebook. The project is difficult-going and I find myself having to get my hands dirty from time-to-time and grace them with my (very) limited feedback. It's a relatively good state of affairs as I have G and J (his mousy assistant, a 60-something, somewhat emotional red-haired woman who is working to save up money so her diminutive son can get his "shots" that he needs to increase his height to normal standards.... Again, the height thing. unavoidable) bothering each other so much that I'm relatively free during the day to relax. I figured I could keep them on this project for another two weeks of bliss.

However, I arrive on Monday morning at my alloted place and there is a troubling email from G in my inbox. After performing my daily morning ritual of checking up on the status update of my facebook "friends" , I check to see why G has sent me an email with the subject line "shingles". I read the email and learn that my trusted deputy doesnt think he can come into today as "it is almost certain" that he has shingles.

Instantly, I know that this is going to create a problem for me to deal with and my Monday is ruined. I anticipate the coming storm: G wants to work so he's clamoring for the firm to let him come in, the other coders, however, being self-protective of their health (as they should be), are not going to want to be put at risk. The firm, I know, doesn't really care what G does, or what happens to the coders should one of them get infected, as long as its ass is covered and it doesn't have to pay anybody anything more than the more than generous $32 an hour it pays to professionals with 7 years of college/post-college education living in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Simply put, it's going to be a shit-storm and I'm going to be in the middle taking a huge bite.

For about 15 minutes, I try to put off the inevitable and stave off the impending moutain of stress about to explode in my little kingdom (a kingdom totaling approximately 100 feet in area, and a population of 20 over which I have very little actual authority since essentially, anybody within my realm can go complain to HR about me and I would be in trouble.) After checking my gmail and seeing what's on ESPN, I sigh and write a quick note to G letting him know that "I hope he feels better" and that I will forward his note up to HR.

(The "hope you feel better" line I learned while working at the hellhole that is known as Bloomberg, LP. When I couldn't bear to be tortured by my sadistic team leader T, I would call in sick and inevitably, I would get a brief "hope you feel better" response from T, whose typically emails to me asked contained phrases like "woefully underperforming", "sloppy", and "bad attitude". At least I learned something from that experience. )

Sighing again, I forward G's polite, well-worded, and impeccably spelled letter to D up in HR. This, I know, is going to cause complications because D, for lack of a better word, is, well, an idiot. OK, that's a bit harsh, but I think it's fair to say that she's completely and utterly suited for a role in HR (a far worse thing to say about someone than calling them an idiot, in my opinion). D knows how to CYA and better yet, how to cya the firm and that makes her good at her job and a nightmare for any short-term attorney. What D really excels at is making employees take on the burden of making key decisions and then insulating the firm from blame when the results go awry (see, e.g., the harrassment incident when I attempted to deal with two quarreling co-workers by separating them and then was accused by the firm of harrassment when I devised a plan to move one of the quarrellers into an adjoining room (forthcoming post)). True to form, D waits a while before responding to my email and then tells me to advise him to tell G to stay home if he is "contagious", leaving me with the task of finding out if and to what degree G is contagious and breaking the news to the rest of the team that they have been sitting in a room with a guy who just got diagnosed with an infectious disease for the past three weeks.

Then, I put on a brave face and tell the attorneys present that G is out today and may have shingles. The reaction is surprisingly subdued, but everyone is tense. However, my team member always seem tense, which is probably a side-effect of their lack of health insurance, and a lack of knowing that they have a steady stream of future income since everyone, including myself, could be fired from their job at any moment (Yay, unfettered capitalism! Who needs unions, I say!) An illness for these people means missed work and missed work means not getting paid, which to them means missed rent payments and missed health insurance premiums, if they can afford this at all, which apparently, G could not. I explain that G has not been diagnosed with Shingles yet so there is no need to worry right now.

An hour later, I get an email from G telling me that, indeed, he does have shingles. Attached to this bit of diagnostic information, G also gives me a brief lesson on the epidemology and contagiousness of shingles, as well as divulging the unncessary fact that the shingle scabs at issue are on his lower back; a factotum that I wished he had not deigned to confide in me. The gist of G's email is that while he is taking sufficient amount of painkillers so as to put him in vicodin-induced haze, he is ready, willing, and able to come to work; indeed, he can come in later today if need be.

For a second, I sit back and contemplate G's request. Here is a guy who has just been diagnosed with an infectious disease that, from I read on wikipedia, causes extraordinary pain and discomfort and can last up to several months. Nevertheless, rather than sacrifice a day of sitting in front of a computer earning $32 an hour reading a financial company's internal emails, he would rather come in and work, (and not incidentally, put everyone else at risk of catching his disease). I admire the guy's fortitude, but at the same time, I am reminded, as I often am in the depressing industry of law, of the lengths to which my fellow members of the bar will go to make a buck. In addition, I am reminded of the vicissitudes of life as a short-term attorney where as an unprotected employee, you are not entitled to sick days, health insurance, or the ability to work from home. For my people, a simple illness like shingles can be a disaster.

Meanwhile, my team members have been busy scouring the Internet for information on shingles. We learn that while its generally not a contagious disease, it can be dangerous to those who have not had the chicken pox. Of course, two members of my team, the most hysterical and menopausal members of the team, have never gotten the chicken pox. I try to alleviate their concerns and stress that it's not fair to keep G out of work as the guy has to make a living too. I forward G's email to D with the added info that B and S have never had chicken pox. An hour later, D sends me a terse email stating that G can come in whenever he is healthy. I inform the team of HR's decision and they don't seem happy about it but no one says anything. Later, as it often her modus operandi, J, the 60-ish post-menopausal red-head with the dwarf for a son, expresses some whining concern that she's afraid of getting chicken pox. I tell her that, from what I know about the chicken pox, she would have to rub up against G's sores in order to contract the disease. "you're not a doctor", she replies. She's right, I think to myself, I'm not a doctor. If I was a doctor, I wouldn't be sitting in this room with you and 18 other outcasts of the legal world left to code documents making shit money as team leader of a ragtag group of underpaid coders. I wouldn't have the indignity of knowing that my employers, law firm partners with mansions in Scarsdale and summer houses in Florida, were getting rich charging $300 an hour for my time, while paying me $40/hour. But I don't say this. I just keep quiet and go back to surfing the net...

The day passes in relative quiet. I get an email from G saying that although he's barely able to stand, he's planning on coming in tomorrow. At 7:55, I snap at J, reminding her that she has to leave at 8 pm. All the coders are supposed to leave at 8, but J, usually tries to stretch out the time; all the better to get that extra $5 for an extra shot for her dwarf son. I go home. Eating dinner in front of the TV, I find myself thinking about G in his shitty apartment in Washington Heights, dazed from his pain medicatins, perhaps sitting in front of his TV too eating dinner in his tighty-whities. I try not to think about tomorrow and the stress it will bring. Sleep comes and with it, comfortable oblivion.

For some reason, my alarm does not work the next day and I wake up late. I show up at work and J, in his nervous and incredibly needy way smiles and me and says "uh, hey. hi. There you are." J's got a pregnant (and very obnoxious, it appears) wife and when he told her that one of his colleagues had shingles, she promptly threw a shit-fit. He expresses his concern about G in his polite, obsequious way. Another coder, S, a somewhat shaky fellow whose hands tremble when he talks, expresses his concern that he might be suspectible to illness because the medication he takes compromises his immune system. When I tell S that it's really not up to me whether G comes in and besides, he's already had chicken pox so has nothing at all to worry about and that he probably has a better chance of getting sick on the subway coming to work than getting sick at work, he gets a little testy. This is surprising since S is a beta male who, from what I can gather, is on some rather strong medication that is probably related to the ways his hands shake. S's mother is sick and he has to visit her everyday in the hospital which is why he leaves work everyday at 4 pm. He is smarter and older than the average coder and so I assume that he must be deeply resentful of his current station in life, an end result that I imagine is connected and perhaps a causal factor to his shaking hands.

Other voices spring up. The general consensus is that the group does not want G to come back. I try to seem professional and tell the team that their concerns are valid, but the chances of getting ill are slim, and that, in any event, the decision is not up to me and I will pass on their concerns to D. I dash off an email to D that relays the teams concerns in as neutral manner as possible, hoping that I can somehow place the decision on their shoulders without making it look like I am shirking my duties. A couple hours later,I have emails from G saying that he is not coming in today until 3 and from D telling me to advise G not to come in until he is not contagious. I relay this to G. G responds with a lengthy exposition on the exact definition of contagious. According to G, he has not been told by a doctor that he is not contagious, and therefore, there still exists the possibility of being contagious, his doctor told him that he could come in to work. In other words, while he is not not contagious, he doesn't think he is contagious enough for there to be concern.

I tell him that he needs to get a doctor's note saying he is not contagious. G responds that he has to pay $70 to get another consulation (no health insurance, isn't American great?) but he will do so. I forward this to D and she replies tersely that she is in a meeting. In other words, she doesn't want to deal with it. Eventually, G accepts that he has to get a doctor's note and that he has to fax it to HR before he can come in. The situation seems to have stabilized.

The day goes by. I surf the net and I reflect on what has transpired. It's a seemingly small event in an otherwise uneventful day, yet it touches on so much of what makes our current reality so bewildering and unncessarily fucking complicated. The temporary employee with no health care getting sick, the corporate law firm who is out to maintain the profits of its partners at all costs - and doesn't have any qualms about exploiting lawyers to do so, the near-hysterical anxiety and tenseness that affects workers, particularly non-unionized "professionals" in an economic system that treats them like disposable parts, and me, caught in the middle, as usual. or more precisely caught on the wrong "side" in a war withot end -trying to get by in a system that seems designed to keep us in that state of continuous fear that we might lose our jobs, lose our health insurance, and then inevtiably lose our sense of reality in a world where you are truly on your own, where there is no one looking out for you, where you have to find your little piece of reality, call it your own, and try to defend from the greater forces in the universe tearing us to bits.

Postscript: G paid the $70 and got the note from his doctor. He then dutiful faxed the note to D and got the following response. "Thanks for sending in the note! We will review and then advise you of the firm's decision. Hope you feel better." Needless to say, G was dismayed to learn that the firm had yet to make a decision as it appeared that, in fact, a decision had been made.

As for myself, I don't think I have the shingles, but I do have an itch on my back that's been bothering me.....it could be the chicken pox, but it's probably just a blood-borne parasite that will likely ravage my skin and my immune system.