Post-Accolade Diet - vomiting from the praise.

Too little, too late?

The Boss read the memo I left that had the "lets talk" note. He came to my office to discuss... the memo, not the note. The memo was a review of medical literature, searching for the recommended treatment of a life-threatening medical condition during a particular point in time (the time when one of our clients received care from Defendant Bad Doctor.)

The Boss said the memo was fantastic, noting "you really get into this stuff, huh?" He wasn't talking about me specifically, but I was falling over myself just to know that he read the damned thing. It gets better.

The Boss: "It would have been nice if our experts had this, but I don't want to send the memo and make work-product discoverable."

Lex: "I have copies of all the literature I cited, but they have extensive notes I made during research. I could easily get clean copies."

The Boss: "Why don't you do that, and send them to the medical experts. I want them to see this stuff. By the way - it's a go on all of the depositions tomorrow.

Excitement has come over me in a form that can only be understood when held in comparison to the work-life despondency I have felt as of late. Finally, I have 1+ reasons to be stoked about my employment. The Boss liked my research. The Boss wants Medical Experts to see my research. The Boss ok'd my deposition attendance, a battle of silence I ultimately won, but that could have made me postal.

I am taking the remainder of this day to relish a seeming victory. Recognition that things still suck on the whole, that I am broker than an aging crack-whore or that my skill set can be explained in deep detail on a 1-page resume.... all facts I plan to take notice of later.

After all, tomorrow is another day.
A day full of depositions.
Woo-Hoo.