[Dating Papers]

I’m going out of town in a couple of hours. I have my annual one-day meeting in Ann Arbor. Except for the flying part, I always enjoy this trip. I meant to be good and get to the office by 9:30 and do some work. Instead, my computer almost collapsed and I had to re-do all the backing up so I would feel comfortable taking it with me. I got to work really late and now there’s a bomb scare across the street so I can’t go get lunch. Bah.

And, I’m an idiot. I ran into a guy last night, a guy I dated last year. He asked me to go to the baseball game on Saturday and I said yes. In the course of our conversation he said a couple of things that didn’t jibe with my memory. One, that we dated for two weeks. No, it was more like five, definitely in the safe-to-say-a-month territory. Two, that I’d recently sent him a text that said “friends.” No, I sent him a text at the beginning of March that said, “It’s ok. Just teasing, friend.” We’d exchanged a couple of texts prior to that and in one I gave him a hard time about missing my birthday, which I didn’t expect him to remember.

This morning, on my half-walk to work (I took the bus half-way and walked the rest), I checked the texts. I’d already checked our dating dates. And I started to compose an email message to him, in my head, giving him the correct information. I know I’m right–I have documentary evidence. All he has is a memory like Swiss cheese. Then, it hit me. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what he remembers, if I’m right and he’s wrong. There is a reason he remembers what he remembers. That he wants to think it’s ok with me to be friends (it’s not), that he wants to minimize our relationship. Two weeks? That’s nothing. That meant nothing. And he needs to believe that. Who I am to disturb his uneasy mind?

At some level, he remembers. Last night, we stood on the corner, talking, laughing, just like it hadn’t been over a year since we’d met face-to-face. And he kept moving closer. If I’d been in a room, I would have been backed against the wall by the time I climbed on my bike and rode home. He remembers.

All the more reason I never should have agreed to go to the game with him. But I want to and I will. These days, I do what I want. What I want to do is to spend one, pleasant evening with this guy and then I want it to be over. And because that’s what I want, that’s what will happen.

Grateful for: forgetting.

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By now, you may not care what the substance of the case was, but I’m ready to tell you. I won’t mention the names and locations because I don’t want the blog to be connected to the case. If you’re curious about specifics, I’ll answer your questions in the comments.



The crime

The crime was bid-rigging on three construction contracts. The contracts were undertaken in a middle eastern country (not Israel) and were the result of high-profile negotiations undertaken by our last single-term Democratic president (you know, the [Redacted] Peace Accords).  The contracts were paid for and facilitated by USAID. Thus, US anti-trust laws pertain. The work was eventually performed in the mid-late 1980’s and early 1990’s. When we were all wee babes.



The plaintiff argued that the defendants engaged in a conspiracy to rig the bidding. By their actions, which included meetings with competitors and payoffs, they created a non-competitive atmosphere that caused the US government to pay more than was fair for the jobs. The defense against the charge was that the contracts were competitive, the work was difficult and the contractors performed well. No one disagreed that the work was done to everyone’s satisfaction, but that did not negate the conspiracy.



To give you a sense of how this is expressed formally, here’s a quote from the first count of the indictment, CONSPIRACY TO RESTRAIN TRADE, “…the defendants and others entered into and engaged in a combination and conspiracy to suppress and eliminate competition on construction contracts funded by the United States….” The second count is CONSPIRACY TO DEFRAUD THE UNITED STATES and reads, in part, “…It was a part and object of the aforesaid conspiracy to defraud USAID that the defendants and co-conspirators would and did agree to inflate and manipulate the prices bid on USAID-funded construction contracts…”



The Plaintiffs

The plaintiffs were the US Government and a private individual called a “relator.” The case was first brought by the relator under the false claims act. The case was then joined by the Government. Thus, two sets of attorneys sat at the plaintiff tables–three from DOJ and three from a private firm. Both groups did a good job, but the private attorneys were more polished. The relator also gets a percentage of the judgement. The defense tried to make some hay with this, but, even though none of the jury were big fans of the relator as an individual, he did “open the door” and “shine some light” on the case (to quote the prosecution). Without him, no one would have known about the conspiracy. And without a reward he might never have brought the case, so it didn’t bother me too much that he would get a cut. The relator was an accountant with a firm that (we found out later) eventually settled. His firm was in joint venture for several contracts with the defendants.


The Defendants

The four defendants consisted of two individuals and four companies. All of the company’s names contain the same family name (I’m using “Smith,” but it’s not the real name), which confused the jury up to almost the end of the trial. Here’s a list of the defendants:

• Smith Corporation; Smith International Inc.; and Joe Smith (the two firms have their headquarters in a southern state, are incorporated in Delaware and the companies shared office space)
• Smith International Establishment (incorporated in a tiny European country, no offices)
• Joe Smith International Construction + Smith UK Services, Ltd (a UK company with offices in London)
• John Green (not related to Joe Smith, but a VP of Smith International Inc.; he hired the Managing Partner of Smith UK and spent a lot of time in their offices)

The “Smith” in the company names refers to Joe Smith and/or his older brother. The older Smith died a few years ago, but he wasn’t involved in this part of the business at the time of the contracts, but he was CEO and Chair of Smith Corporation. He was never implicated in any wrong doing as part of the trial.



The evidence

The Plaintiff’s case was grounded on the evidence of (illegal) pre-bid agreements and meetings between the defendants and other contractors (the co-conspirators). They also presented evidence of questionable invoices submitted after contracts were signed (payoffs). 



The defendants presented a mountain of evidence about the substance of the contracts. All that information was irrelevant to what we had to decide: whether or not there was a conspiracy. A peculiar side-effect of the trial is that I’m now a semi-expert in shoring methods, including sheet piling, soldier piling and lagging, and the Krings system. I have some knowledge in a few other areas related to digging trenches and tunnels as well: dewatering, pipe jacking, and tunnel boring. If you need to do deep trenching, I can advise you on the best way to go about it. We had dewatering explained to us at least a half a dozen times, along with the general principles and techniques involved in shoring. It was unbelievable and almost totally unnecessary.

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Stay tuned for the next section, “The deliberations.” If you have questions, I’ll answer them in the comments….



Grateful for: construction expertise.

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I’m totally useless at work today. Instead of taking a big chunk out of the tasks on my plate, I’m doing dumb things like ordering CDs I’ll never listen to and infinitely delaying getting lunch even though I’m hungry.

I’ve half written a post on the details of the trial, but, boy, is it boring. The process? Great. The details? Tedious. I promised myself I’d do it, but I’m putting it off for at least another day.

I had a fantastically eventful and fun week and weekend, which included:
Monday–softball
Tuesday–rowing
Wednesday–salsa dancing (with date)
Thursday–rowing
Friday–dinner/drinks (with friends)
Saturday–dinner/movie/drinks (with date)

Sunday–movie/dinner/drinks (with friends)
Monday–Ikea/cookout (with friends)

I also baked cupcakes (for the cookout) and did assorted household tasks. I knitted a tiny bit but limited sessions to ten or fifteen minutes to preserve my shoulder, which, unfortunately, still hurts. I’m back on the drug regime and plan to take the week off from all shoulder-intensive activities (such as rowing). Hopefully some serious rest will make a dent in the pain. It’s a little easier to rest a shoulder than a knee or a foot, but not as easy as I’d like it to be. I don’t want to rest it at all, but if I don’t rest it now, it may get a lot worse…

But you don’t want to hear about all that now, do you? Possibly you’d like to hear about my trip to Ikea? I went to Ikea for three reasons: Ikea lunch, “Tupperware,” and a summer-weight down comforter. I had success on all three counts, and a few others, which was a fine and expected consequence of going to Ikea. However, that summer-weight comforter turned out to be synthetic, not down. It was in the down section. I carefully read the description of the comforter up above and it said it was down. I picked one from that section—not the section with the synthetic-fill comforters—but somehow I failed to scrutinize the label. I unpacked it at home and just after I tore of the “do not remove under penalty of law” tag, I realized it was NOT a down comforter. Argh! Can I still return it after ripping off that tag? And how does Ikea manage to defeat me so consistently?

Oh, wait, maybe you actually wanted to hear about my dates. I can’t say much, because to do so would violate my one and only fundamental rule: don’t write about dates with guys who read the blog. Since I met this particular fellow at a blogger-type function and he was introduced to me by my blogger name, I won’t go into much detail. I will tell you this: we had a good time, he apparently enjoys listening to my stories (note to self: give him a chance to talk), and I expect we’ll see each other again–at least I hope we will.

(Aside: things with Kansas have stayed over. I’ve heard not one peep from him after our final email exchange last week. The days of needing to remember to silence the phone before bedtime are over, thank goodness.)

I also spent some time this weekend with the fellows, Hap and Sam, I met a couple of weeks ago at a neighborhood bar. The events were of the group variety and may go some way to expanding my circle of friends. A lot of my DC friends have moved on and others have packed schedules or significant others. It’s hard to find time to see them more than once or twice a month. I need a larger group of friends to draw on. As we all know, it is hard to meet people outside of the normal routine of work. You’d think I’d make friends rowing, but that hasn’t really happened. I have some modest hopes that Hap’s group may yield some new friends. He is not transient, which is a big plus. If I get hooked into the group, I’ll get invites from people other than Hap. I made friends with a big group my first summer in DC and it worked out well in the short-term, but those friendships didn’t have staying power. That might happen here too, but I’m willing to give it a try.

To wrap up: my shoulder still hurts and knitting and rowing are on hold while I rest it. After the craziness of last week, I will try and take this week slower so I don’t burn out. Ikea defeated me. I had a couple of dates and hope to have (at least) a couple more. I hung out with some old friends and some potential new friends. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

Grateful for: new friends.

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Before I get into the details of the case, I want to talk a little about the jury. I loved the jury. They were quirky, friendly, interesting and smart. Even the Confused Juror (CJ) had some good points, though, I admit, as foreperson she gave me the most trouble. Way more trouble than the hold-out lady–well, at least before she became the hold-out lady. (Don’t worry, the majority prevailed–go jury system!)

It was the pants lady (so named because she’s the one who gave me a couple pairs of pants) who tapped me to be the foreperson. After the case ended, the judge read his instructions and we were sent back to the jury room to start deliberations. Our first task was to decide on a foreperson. We didn’t get right down to deciding. First, we ate the lunch that was waiting for us. In an opportune moment, the pants lady quietly asked me how I would feel if she nominated me to be the foreperson. She said, “You haven’t made too many friends–which isn’t a good thing or a bad thing–but you’re not biased. I think you’d be good at it. What do you say?”

I said, “I’d be happy to do it.” Later, she told me she thought I was nervous, but really I was excited. I was glad I’d thought it through and knew I wanted the job. That made it easy to say yes.

We continued to eat and the other Jamy (a woman with the same name as me) said, “So how are we going to pick the foreperson?”

Immediately Jack spoke up, “I nominate [hold-out lady]!”

She said, “Oh no, I don’t want to do it. I won’t do it.” She was firm and everyone believed her.

Then Jack said, “What about CJ? I nominate CJ!”

Now, I was crazy about Jack, but he was an odd duck. He was shy and sensitive and definitely noticing everyone. Yet I didn’t think he’d paid much attention to the case. Earlier he’d even asked me if I was going to be the foreperson. I said, I didn’t know, it was up to us to decide together. After he nominated CJ there was a silent pause and then the pants lady spoke up, “What about Jamy in the blue?” I smiled and nodded.

The other Jamy called for a vote and I won. Thus, I was foreperson. I’m afraid CJ wasn’t happy about this, though she never complained. She did try and take over the proceedings on a few occasions. She also paid me many compliments, as did others, on the good job I was doing.

The best compliment, however, came from the pants lady. After the first couple of days, at the end of the day, she said, “When you get home, you call your mother…your father…and you tell them you were worth every penny they spent to send you to college. Every penny!” She continued to tell me how intelligent and fair I was…I’m sure I blushed.

When I got home, I called my mother and I told her what the pants lady said. Mom said, “You were a bargain!”

I said, “I know! I wanted to tell her I paid for grad school myself, but I resisted.”

More later….

Grateful for: meeting new people.

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I keep meaning to write about the trial. I thought I’d want to write about it immediately, but, despite my love of the experience, I really needed not to think about it for awhile. Mission accomplished!

What else have I accomplished? I went to a happy hour on Friday and had a good time. Met some folks and talked their ears off, but no complaints on that (so far). On Saturday, I got to see the Mystics’ opening game with Dr. J, thanks to Nancy, who gave me her tickets. (I don’t think I’ve thanked her enough, actually.) The seats were great and we enjoyed marvelling at the 7′2″ player on the other team. She couldn’t move very well, but being that tall and moving at all gives your team an advantage. Their best player was a 5′5″ guard, however. Represent! Sadly, the Mystics lost, but they were in it the whole game.

After the game, I was on my own so I went to see Spiderman 3. What can I say? It was pretty and I can’t hate Kirsten Dunst, but what was with all the big boy crying? I’m for gender equality but the emotions didn’t resonate for me–most women wouldn’t cry in these circumstances. Also, the transformation of Peter Parker to a “bad dude” was about the most unconvincing in movie history, which is sad because movie transformations (librarian to hottie; wimp to badass; nerd to superhero) are the bread and butter of screen storytelling–meaning, it’s just not that hard to do–and to see it flubbed so completely, well, that was disheartening. Maybe Tobey Maguire’s round face is not suited to such a transformation, but there had to be better ways to handle it. All the reviews were right: beautiful effects, lousy storytelling, underused villains and a huge disappointment in comparison to the first two Spiderman movies.

Yesterday marked the first day of a week-long knitting moratorium. I have a ton of projects I’m working on but my shoulder is killing me. Knitting exacerbates it. A lot. I’m forcing myself to take a week off, but I’m not happy about it. I was dosing myself on appropriate pain killers, but I decided I needed some time off from those too, which means my shoulder pretty much aches full time. I think resting it will help. We’ll see. I went to physical therapy for this a few months ago and I’m doing the recommended exercises, which should help. It’s quite frustrating because my knitting obsession hasn’t weakened in the least, but my physical ability to carry on is not there. Apparently, this is a common problem for knitters and the solution is easy: rest. So I’m resting, dammit.

I’m getting to work on the posts about jury duty soon. Tomorrow! Maybe. And, also, I’m getting back to work-work, which is plenty busy (good) and not weird and awkward at all (relief).

Grateful for: time.

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Part I

I was greeted with a big management shake up when I returned to work on Tuesday (after eight–count ‘em–eight weeks of jury duty). The federal government, where I work, has a formal hierarchy. In my department, as in most departments, there are two main types of positions: career and political. The career slots are the civil servants–the long-time, non-partisan (at least at work) staff. They remain constant from administration to administration. Federal departments are part of the executive branch and follow the president’s agenda, however, all departments perform regularized functions and having a non-appointed civil service is vital for continuity. All civil servants are also covered by the Hatch Act (we’re “Hatched”), which means our political bosses can’t use us for campaign work. The politicals are appointed by the president (some more directly than others). They all need some kind of congressional approval but only the highest ranking ones actually get a big ceremony. The rest of them get approved in batches, sometimes at the behest of people lower down than the president.



In my department, the hierarchy goes like this: at the top is the Secretary. Then, the Deputy Secretary. Both politicals. After them are the Assistant Secretaries, all political, each in charge of a different office. Under the Assistant Secretaries are Deputy Assistant Secretaries (DAS’s)–a mix of political and career slots. Under the DAS’s are Division Directors (all career) and under them are people like me (again, all career). Some divisions have Deputy Directors and some don’t. We did (but we don’t anymore!).



The management shake-up in my office involved four supervisors, all career staff. My boss (Larry) was a Division Director and he moved to the DAS position (formerly held by Rob) directly above him. TR, who was my Deputy Division Director, moved to the Division Director slot Larry vacated. The old DAS (Rob) moved to a DAS slot in an office parallel to ours (but under the same Assistant Secretary). The DAS he displaced (Ned) became Larry’s Assistant DAS. See what happened? Basically, the purpose of all the moving around was to move Ned out of his DAS slot. It wouldn’t have been crazy to move TR straight to that slot, but it might have been politically unpalatable. Rob, my old DAS, has been here for over 30 years and no one can question putting him anywhere in our organization. However, he’s always worked in this office so it’s a little odd to move him elsewhere. Ned, the guy who was essentially demoted, was in a rather high-profile DAS slot. Unfortunately, he’s a rather impolitic guy. He’s smart, a great researcher and an asset to the Department, but probably never should have been in that job. I like Ned a lot and now he’s in my office. We may get to work together more and that would be a good thing.



Here’s the interesting part. When I talked to Larry when I first got back, I said, “But isn’t Rob going to retire soon?”



Larry said, “Well, maybe not. But I wondered about that too. I thought it might make more sense for TR to take that spot.”



“Sure, that would make sense. But if Rob’s going to stay for a while, that makes sense too.”



“Yes, but I mentioned it to [the Assistant Secretary] and she agreed that if Rob retires, TR would move over there.”



And it just hung there. If TR moved out of the Division Director slot, Larry wouldn’t assume it again. We’d need a new Division Director. That sure made me think…

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Part II

My main worry on returning to work was having TR as my direct supervisor. I couldn’t stand the idea of him trying to direct me, to “boss” me. That wouldn’t do. However, my fears (at least so far) were unfounded.



One of the first things TR did was call a staff meeting. It’s exactly what I would have done in his position. Larry hates meetings and would have staff meetings twice a year or less. When we did have them more often, usually right after bringing on a new person, we’d go around and have each person list their current projects. It could take a long time. I found it a little useful because we all work independently and I often have no clue what other people are doing. But it could make for a long, boring meeting.



At the meeting on Wednesday, TR explained that he wants to have staff meetings once a month and use them to discuss administrative issues and go over things he learned in a recent supervisor training course. We all agreed that was a good idea. We were joking about the sexual harassment module of the training, “So, now you know how to sexually harass people?” Ha ha. TR said, “Now I know who to call if someone reports it to me!” All the time TR was talking, I kept interrupting, making suggestions and generally harassing him–in the mild, friendly way I always do with TR. And one of my co-workers, said, “So, who do you call if you are being harassed by one of your employees?” It was funny and we all laughed but it gave me pause. Who has a problem here? Not TR. It’s me. Well, I guess I knew that. But what I didn’t understand was that the problem is showing sufficient respect for someone who is my buddy and who I like to harass. My problem may also be that I want to be the boss. Well, the first step to solving a problem is acknowledging it, right? So, I think I can manage this just fine. No harassing TR in meetings in front of the rest of the staff. Even I can handle that!



It really does feel good to be back to work and I may even start to enjoy it around here. I’m relieved–I was so worried about having TR as boss–but I think everything is going to be fine.

Grateful for: opportunities.

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That last post was kind of depressing so let’s move on to happier, or at least more amusing, topics.



Last night, I went to a blogger happy hour. (Why are the happy hours always scheduled the same week? Why?) It was a small but convivial group. I was a little out of it–yesterday was a day of minor discoordination. I spilled things, though not usually on myself. I went to the gym but only did the most rudimentary of work-outs before I decided I didn’t feel great and better stop before I hurt myself. At the bar, I tried to order a $19 beer! Luckily, the waiter called the price to my attention AND directed me to something similar, but more reasonably ($5) priced. Turned out to be a great choice and a beer I’d happily drink again. But, boy, did I feel foolish.



After I’d been sitting with our small group (six total) for about half an hour, a seventh person arrived. A person I’ve met before. A person I’ve dated before. A person I’ve dated who I’ve written about on this here blog. Yikes.



I recognized him immediately, but he didn’t seem to notice me. My heart was racing and I didn’t know what to do. I never told him about the blog. What in the world had I written about him? Anything terrible? I wasn’t sure, but some of it was certainly not flattering (my mixed feelings were on full display). After a minute or two, he still hadn’t recognized me. I grabbed my phone, excused myself and moved quickly in the direction of the rest rooms.



I called Pele and explained the situation. She said, “Oh no! You can’t go back.”



I said, “I have to go back, I left all my stuff at the table. I’m really not having a good day.”



“No. But it can’t get any worse.”



“I sure hope not.”



I went back to the table. When I sat down, I looked at the person in question. He met my gaze and gave me a nod. I nodded back. And that was it. We didn’t try to talk. We were seated relatively far away from each other so it didn’t raise any eyebrows. I have zero hard feelings towards this guy. If anyone is at fault, it’s me.  (Guy in question–if you’re reading this, please accept my apologies and know that I’m fine with saying hi and making polite conversation if we run into each other again.)



Last amusing note. On the way home from the happy hour, my mom called. I told her what happened and she said, “You dated someone you met at a blogger happy hour and wrote about him on your blog?”



“Um, no. I’m not STUPID.”



“Smart people do stupid things.”



“No, I figured that one out as soon as I started meeting people via the blog. I never, ever write about dating anyone I meet via the blog–except in glowing terms.”



We laughed and moved on to other topics.



Today is better, though I almost bit it on my bike ride to work today. My clumsiness is a little out of control. But I’m sure that will get better too…



Grateful for: friends.

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I’ve assiduously avoided going into detail about the problem with Kansas, but that problem was finally our undoing. I grew weary of the kind of non-relationship, pseudo friendship we were having. Over the last couple of weeks, I got no satisfaction from it at all–neither a friendly ear nor a companion.



The last straw, I think, was when he called at 2am last Sunday, the night before what turned out to be the last day of deliberations. Most other nights, I’ve had the phone on silent. The phone woke me because I never thought he’d do the middle of the night call on a Sunday. I’ll never know what inspired it because I didn’t answer. I wasn’t even tempted. I did get out of bed to look at the phone, though. I saw his name, shook my head, and silenced the phone. Good thing, too, because he called again about 20 minutes later. Sigh.



In the past, I’d email him the morning after such an offence and demand an apology. I wasn’t tempted to do that this time. Enough.



I didn’t hear from him again until Tuesday. He sent this message, “Is there a verdict yet?” I answered, “Yes.” He wrote again, asked if I was back at work and shared a line or two about a mutual friend.



I didn’t know how to respond. I was angry but exhausted. I was in no mood to bitch at him but I found his behavior completely unacceptable and completely inconsiderate. No mention of the call, which really disturbed my sleep, no mention of the money (a small but not negligible amount) he owes me. Nothing. Just, hey, how’s it going, like everything was fine. Like, maybe he was in a lousy mood last week and didn’t feel like being in touch, so I don’t hear from him for a week. Great. What about what I want? That was the whole tenor of the “friendship”–much more on his terms than mine. And I didn’t want to play anymore. I’d like to say I took the next step completely independently, but I needed some advice from work friend, Nancy. We talked for a few minutes, which helped me clarify my thoughts. Then, I sent him this message:

This is awkward but I think I need to tell you something…you know I want to be friends. I thought we could work it out. Now, I’m not so sure. You only seem to be available via email or late night calls…and that just doesn’t work for me. I would like to have you as a friend–I’ve enjoyed a lot of our time together–but if I’m only going to talk to you or see you when you’re drinking, I’m not interested. Endless emailing has only a limited appeal. I think you’re a great guy but I also think you need to get some help.

A couple of minutes later, Kansas sent this response:

Nice. Adios.

And that is the end of the story. I left the door open a crack and it was his choice to slam it shut. I was sad yesterday, but not tempted to respond. I’m even less tempted to respond today. Nancy thinks I’ll hear from him again and that would be fine. I’m glad I made it clear what was acceptable, even if he can’t accept it.


Grateful for: choices.

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The first day back at work was crazy busy and tomorrow won’t be any better. However, I expect to be out of the weeds by Friday. If there ever was a time to be gone for eight weeks, this was it. Also, I work more efficiently under pressure.

When I have more time to write, these are the topics I’d like to cover:

• What’s going on with the leadership shake-up at work.
• The end of things with Kansas, for good. I know it’s for the best, but it still makes me sad.
• Last but not least, the TRIAL. I still haven’t tried to write a summary, but I told the story a few times at work today and that process usually helps me hone a tale. So in the next couple of days, I’ll have something to say about it.

Thanks for your patience!

Grateful for: my new/old routine.

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Jury duty is DONE! It was great experience–I learned tons. I’m emotionally drained and not quite ready to go back to work. But I will go back–tomorrow.

I’ll have some stories to tell but I’ll answer more specific questions in the comments. I don’t want the name of the case associated with the blog, but I’ll go over some of the general issues…as time permits.

Grateful for: the end.

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