Oh You My Nemesis, The Billable Hour — Interlude In A Complaint

My day is broken up into tenths of an hour.  Every six minutes is a point one.

I’m at my desk at 8:30 and the clock runs from there.  (Okay, that’s not even a little bit true.  I usually get in at 9:30.  Sometimes 10:00.  Sometimes I just try to get in early enough so that I don’t pass people in the hallway on their way to lunch.)

But billing time is tough.  I do a lot during the day that unfortunately has no billable code.

0.3     Get coffee while waiting for computer to start up then check email

0.1     Receipt and review of email from opposing counsel re: continued settlement negotiations

 0.2    Drafting of responsive email to opposing counsel re: continued settlement negotiations

0.1    Edit previously drafted responsive email to opposing counsel re: continued settlement negotiations to delete the words, “pansy,” “dickhead,” “what the fuck,” “are you kidding me?” “is this a joke!?” “am I being punked!?!??” and the entire last sentence, which, when paraphrased, says something along the lines of “oh, and your client is an idiot too, but at least you two idiots found each other in this cold and lonely world”

0.2     Conversation with client re: responding to written discovery

0.7     Pick at my fingernails

2.2     Draft final revisions to opposition to application for writ of attachment

1.8     Lunch

1.6     Futz around on the internet while my food settles

0.1     Look at my inbox — see a bunch of stuff in there — see that it’s already 5:00 — panic — resign myself to the fact that the day is shot — go back to futzing around on the internet

2.7     Futz around on the internet

I have to say that being accountable for every six minutes of my day is the hardest part of my job.

What about you, dear reader?  What is the hardest part of your job?

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