...it’s after 4:00pm and I‘m at base and my dispatcher asks me what I’m holding.
and I’m holding:
9 King County filings
2 USDC monetary filings
15 downtowns including an NLRB
a big fat Immigration Court
and some residential process
Then the dispatcher sends me to 9800 NE MacPherson to pick up a 1201 by 5:00
Along the way I need to attempt some process service at a residence in Ballard. I’ve tried it five times already today. It’s service on a pair of identical twins that are supermodels. They’re never home because they travel a lot for work and their stoner roommate is always there and states he’s a resident of suitable age and discretion and authorized to accept but our client says no, personal service only on each twin individually.
I say, where the fuck is MacPherson?
and I’m serving that stoner roommate this time.
But the dispatcher has completely lost it, he’s incoherent, glazed over and cannot respond. Then a messenger from ABC tries to give me directions, because it’s their client on NE MacPherson, but his mouth is moving and no sound is coming out. Thanks dude…whatever.
I’m getting a little agitated and start to stress when I look at the clock. So I decide to roll out. But I’m not on a bike today. I’m driving a 1969 Chevy pickup with no windows and the back of my neck is getting cold. There’s snow on the ground and I can’t get the truck out of reverse so I’m just sliding around the parking lot backwards…
Time to get up and go to work
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