bad dream Since I left Calgary in the fall, I occasionally have bad dreams. My nightmare is always the same: I am back at Heenan Blaikie working for Floyd. Last night he was handing me his expenses to file an expense report. And I felt irritated with him (as usual).

What I hated most about working for that guy was his obsession for controlling every little detail, no matter how insignificant. The guy had to review and revise everything numerous times. His time entries (for client bills), his expense reports, his every piece of minor correspondence (i.e. "please find attached document x") - not one thing was left up to me, the experienced and slightly literate legal assistant. We couldn't chance it, man.

That was why I hated working for him. He treated me like I was a useless moron, and my opinion regarding wording or formatting even the most insignificant of documents was always discounted. On the few occasions where I questioned his word selection or authority, he would look at me like don't you know your place, little lady? I learned to stop thinking and to stop having an opinion, because it wasn't needed. I learned not to advise him when I was leaving for lunch because he would always have some crisis that I was needed for. I learned that he found it unacceptable for me to be gone from my desk for longer than 5 or 10 minutes, no matter what the reason. I learned that his needs always took priority over my own life, even when I was dealing with potential family emergencies.

What the man needed was part babysitter and part indentured servant. I used to say to people, "I'm a monkey who works for a donkey".  | ¶ 3:40 p.m.