okay, okay. I'll update
I realise now that I'm still surviving more than I am living, and that I function more than I experience.
The high standards I expect from myself, the perfection (I suppose) I aspire to achieve, do little more than set me up to fail.
Yesterday, having had a meltdown of monumental proportions, I realise I am under a great deal of stress right now, regardless of my ability to deny the stress exists. By 'monumental' I mean, I cried. I haven't done that before about what's going on now. Then I pulled my shit together and went to work.
But enough of that deep and meaningful crap. Let's get to the reason for this entry.
I'm looking down the barrel of a lawsuit. Well, two actually. One from the dickhead who sat on an ice pack for an hour and gave himself frostbite, the other from the insurers of the sporting club I volunteered at the day I handed over the ice pack this nimrod requested. Dude must have rocks in his head, because before that icepack froze his sorry arse, rendering it numb and painfree, it would have hurt like the befuckers as it froze first, his flesh, and second, his nerve endings. But that's an aside....
'Wrong place, wrong time' is the phrase that sums up an event that now promises to affect the rest of my life.
In the eyes of the law, what is fair and just is irrelevant. A lawyer doesn't need to prove right or wrong. If he's doing his job, he finds a loophole, and in my case, apparently two exist and the lawyers have found them both: one in the Volunteer Protection Act of 2001, the other in the club's insurance policy.
No matter what, I lose out financially. I discussed this at length with a lawyer from Legal Aid, and while I was offered some sage advice, the upshot was that I do need a lawyer, and they can't represent me in a civil suit. I'll need to hire my own, and at upwards of one hundred bucks an hour, I'm fucked, regardless of what direction this case takes.
The club committee members are all mumbling about us 'all being in this together', but that's the biggest crock I've heard in a long time. If I'm sued the $300,000 the insurers want, plus the fuck knows how much Hopalong Frozen Leg wants from me, none of them are going to mortgage their house to help me out. Conversely, if the universe tilts, resulting in one of them being sued, they're not going to get a cracker out of me, and that's how it should be. We're not the three frikkin' musketeers, we're individuals who need to watch our own backs. That point aside, this lot have failed to appreciate the distinction between their club being sued, and me, the person, being stitched up and nailed to the wall. Their club isn't themselves. It's where they go a few times a week to kick around a soccer ball and then get drunk. Their club gets sued? Their insurance company pays out, the club continues and life goes on as if nothing ever happened. I, on the other hand, am me. Just me. If I'm sued, it's me on the line, my financial future at stake and my career shot to shit.
All for one and one for all my left nut.
The high standards I expect from myself, the perfection (I suppose) I aspire to achieve, do little more than set me up to fail.
Yesterday, having had a meltdown of monumental proportions, I realise I am under a great deal of stress right now, regardless of my ability to deny the stress exists. By 'monumental' I mean, I cried. I haven't done that before about what's going on now. Then I pulled my shit together and went to work.
But enough of that deep and meaningful crap. Let's get to the reason for this entry.
I'm looking down the barrel of a lawsuit. Well, two actually. One from the dickhead who sat on an ice pack for an hour and gave himself frostbite, the other from the insurers of the sporting club I volunteered at the day I handed over the ice pack this nimrod requested. Dude must have rocks in his head, because before that icepack froze his sorry arse, rendering it numb and painfree, it would have hurt like the befuckers as it froze first, his flesh, and second, his nerve endings. But that's an aside....
'Wrong place, wrong time' is the phrase that sums up an event that now promises to affect the rest of my life.
In the eyes of the law, what is fair and just is irrelevant. A lawyer doesn't need to prove right or wrong. If he's doing his job, he finds a loophole, and in my case, apparently two exist and the lawyers have found them both: one in the Volunteer Protection Act of 2001, the other in the club's insurance policy.
No matter what, I lose out financially. I discussed this at length with a lawyer from Legal Aid, and while I was offered some sage advice, the upshot was that I do need a lawyer, and they can't represent me in a civil suit. I'll need to hire my own, and at upwards of one hundred bucks an hour, I'm fucked, regardless of what direction this case takes.
The club committee members are all mumbling about us 'all being in this together', but that's the biggest crock I've heard in a long time. If I'm sued the $300,000 the insurers want, plus the fuck knows how much Hopalong Frozen Leg wants from me, none of them are going to mortgage their house to help me out. Conversely, if the universe tilts, resulting in one of them being sued, they're not going to get a cracker out of me, and that's how it should be. We're not the three frikkin' musketeers, we're individuals who need to watch our own backs. That point aside, this lot have failed to appreciate the distinction between their club being sued, and me, the person, being stitched up and nailed to the wall. Their club isn't themselves. It's where they go a few times a week to kick around a soccer ball and then get drunk. Their club gets sued? Their insurance company pays out, the club continues and life goes on as if nothing ever happened. I, on the other hand, am me. Just me. If I'm sued, it's me on the line, my financial future at stake and my career shot to shit.
All for one and one for all my left nut.
posted by aibee at 14:49
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