Does Anyone Work Around Here?

I'm sitting here listening to two co-workers blather on about what one of them is deciding to wear to a wedding. "I would wear the blue dress to John's wedding, but I've already worn that dress and it would be in bad taste considering I've already worn it to Stacy's wedding, so I'm just wondering..." And on and on and on. Blah blah blah.

I mean I seriously have to ask: Does anyone work around here? Here I am toiling away. Trying to fulfill the demands of everyone and anyone (as this appears to be the unwritten rule for us -- the legal minions), doing the work of two people and these overstuffed bobble head dolls have the time to talk about fashion?! Give me a break!!!

Even yesterday, while I'm trying to keep my head above the sea of paper I appear to be constantly submerged in, I see that one of the partner's secretaries actually went around the office asking people what they thought about the skirt that she had recently purchased and the how to get a coffee stain out of a silk blouse while another walked slowly and sadly around the office like she had just lost her puppy. *scratching head*

A great majority of the attorneys in my office keep their doors closed. Not because they are the diligent workers that they want the world to believe they are, but because they want to cry to their husbands, wives and friends about the state of their lives. Well this is the state of my life: HELP ME!!

I've been feeling incredibly overwhelmed and vulnerable since I've had to go it alone (as my supervisor has taken to bitchin' to anyone who will listen to her about whatever may be plaguing her; from a blow up with her boyfriend/fiancee/Svengali...whatever to an ingrown toe nail. My one piece of advice: Grow up honey, it doesn't matter how many office Christmas parties you've been to or smoke breaks you've had together, these bitches and their cohorts are not -- I repeat NOT your friends and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can snap out of your delusions and get some work done!!) and I feel like I may either have to take the drastic step of jumping ship...or wait for them to push me off the plank. To put it simply -- I'm suffering from the burn-out blues!

My life for eight hours a day, every day, five days a week is about the bottom line. The billable hour. "You gotta bill, bill, bill." That seems to be the mantra! They have subconsciously held that over the head of everyone who is to mark down the comings and goings of their day: Receipt and review of letter from counsel...point one. Phone call to client...point two. The only solace I have at the moment is the vision that I maintain in my head of handing the Mafia Midget with a Napoleon Complex my resignation letter. "Dear Sirs: Take that suckas!!" Now, that has got to be billable somehow!