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MY DESK
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| My desk at the office has been a source of
ridicule, humor, and fire inspections. Herein please find a small
tribute to the place I spend too many of my waking hours.
This is it, this is where the magic happens. This is the entrance and exit of nearly every critical legal document. Fortunes are made and lost on this desk, because the postage machine is on my desk and I make the FedEx labels.
Beneath my desk, a wasteland of paper.
Hard at work:
"Dylan," you say, "your desk is suck a mess, and what the hell is all that crap under it!" Well there are reasons for that.
For a law office with two lawyers, we have a shredder that accommodates 20 pages of paper at a time. Our information security policy demands that we shred any piece of paper with a client's name on it, or put it in a file. With two lawyers and one that is nearly incapable of reading text on a monitor due to low user IQ, we use anywhere from 100 to 500 sheets of paper PER DAY. Not only that, but we recycle. So you have to not only shred the paper, but take the shreds out of the shredder and place them in a paper bag. Hence:
95% of what is on my desk and under it is just waiting to be shredded, why? Because bending over the shredder and the paper bags one hour a day hurts my back (which is almost what it would take to get rid of this crap). I pretend nothing hurts my back because I work with a bunch of wusses that would hire movers and what not and can't change a car battery, but leaning over to the tiny paper shredder 2 feet off the ground and then moving the shreds from that to a paper bag also 2 feet from the ground is no fun. Hey but let's not think about that. Let's focus on the cool stamps I have:
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