One year, two months, and seven days ago, I retired from a 35+ year career with the Arizona Courts. It essentially spanned my entire adult life (so far), from age 23 when we first moved to Tucson and didn’t have kids, to age 59 in Flagstaff after our two boys had long since moved out and moved on.
My career included two types of courts (Superior and Municipal), two different cities, three different courthouses, two different groups of co-workers, and more job titles and job duties than I care to count or remember.
My career saw my husband and I through raising our boys and helping them through college. It saw me through some health issues and my husband through even more. It provided a mostly decent income with mostly decent benefits. It is providing a small pension that allows me a mostly decent retirement.
My career was a blessing, and it was a pain in the ass.
I’ve worked in a variety of settings ranging from the inside of a hot, noisy computer room (back in mainframe days) to the insides of two different jury assembly rooms (one with glass walls resembling a fish bowl, where I used to take naps on the floor while pregnant with our first son). I’ve worked in the back corner of a building where there were no windows but there was a telephone that rang incessantly from a speaker in the ceiling, and I’ve worked in a 9th floor private office with a window overlooking downtown and a microwave & mini-fridge outside my office door (and I could nap privately while pregnant with our second son.)
I’ve worked in an old, decrepit courthouse that was a furniture store a million years ago, which had a break room with a couch I was warned against on my very first day. I’ve worked in a big, beautiful, brand new, 20+ years-in-the-making, state-of-the-art courthouse which had a full kitchen in the break room. I’ve also worked from home at my kitchen table during the beginning of the Covid pandemic.
I’ve had co-workers that left in tears and never came back. I’ve had co-workers (two that I know of) who stole money from the court while on the job. I’ve had a boss we called Sybil (not to her face, and with no disrespect intended towards the real Sybil.)
My brother was one of my co-workers for several years in Tucson. They called the two of us, “The Campbell Kids,” because we were from Wisconsin and, apparently, we were wholesome? Or maybe it was our Midwestern work ethic? Or maybe because we ever so slightly resembled the kids on the mug?
I’ve ridden the bus to work, biked to work, walked to work, trudged through several feet of snow to get to work, carpooled to work, and ridden with my brother to work while I was pregnant, so it’s lucky I never threw up in his little black Mustang!
I’ve traveled for work trainings to San Francisco, Seattle, Atlanta, Las Vegas, Phoenix (frequently), and Bisbee, Arizona. I also traveled once to my old courthouse in Tucson for training after I was working at the court in Flagstaff!
None of the jobs I had at any of the courthouses were easy. They were all mentally demanding and draining. There was always more work to do than time to do it. There were always hostile “customers.” In Flagstaff especially, we had high turnover and were perpetually short-staffed. We were usually expected to cover multiple positions besides our own. We always said if we could survive working there, we could work anywhere, and many co-workers left for less stressful jobs elsewhere.
I’ve been sworn at on the phone and across a counter more times than I care to count or remember. I’ve had to explain and/or defend court procedures to auditors every few years. I’ve had to explain and/or defend court procedures to angry people having one of the worst days of their lives.
I’ve gotten a good whiff of the in-custody defendants brought over from the jail, watched them trudge through the tiny lobby in handcuffs, and tried to avert my eyes from the line of gray smudges created by their heads rubbing on the white wall behind the back row of seats in the courtroom (but once you see it, you can’t unsee it.) Good times!
I’ve dealt with out-of-state parents of university students who parked on city streets overnight between November 1st and April 1st and got $48 parking tickets. I’ve dealt with people given citations for running a red light, driving under the influence of alcohol, or assaulting their girlfriend. I’ve dealt with every excuse for getting out of jury duty that you can imagine, and some that you could not imagine.
I’ve dealt with drunk defendants and seriously mentally ill defendants. I’ve dealt with judicial administrative assistants who thought their judge was a king. I’ve dealt with sovereign citizens and defendants who were not lawyers but liked to think they were. I’ve dealt with customers threatening to sue me and/or the court. I’ve dealt with customers who were so disorderly we had to have them arrested right there in the courthouse. Good times!
I’ve dealt with projects that had to be done immediately (or yesterday), projects that ultimately were abandoned, and projects that took almost a decade. I’ve worked weekends and holidays (and the 4:00a.m. shift on July 1st for over a decade.)
I’ve participated in several active shooter trainings and learned how to avoid/deny/defend. Once (that I know of) a man walked right in through the metal detectors with a gun and was halfway to a courtroom before security officers stopped him. Fortunately we had security officers at that time. For many years in the old, decrepit courthouse, we didn’t. We also didn’t have fire alarms. But we did have asbestos in the bathrooms and an old, decrepit roof we feared would cave in when the snow load got too heavy. Good times!
The old, decrepit courthouse sometimes flooded during summer monsoons. It took several years and multiple floods before the carpet was finally removed. We were allowed to decide what color to paint the cement floor underneath it because no money was going to be spent on new carpeting since we were moving to a big, beautiful, brand new courthouse soon. Some people wanted hospital gray and some wanted ocean blue. In the end, we lived with an ocean blue cement floor for seven years before moving to the big, beautiful, brand new courthouse.
We had mice in the old, decrepit courthouse - real ones and a stuffed one that would randomly show up in a desk drawer when you were least expecting it. Good times!
We also had a piñata in the shape of a bull. A mascot of sorts. I don’t think he had a name. We weren’t entirely sure how long he’d been around or who had brought him in or why. Unfortunately, our bull piñata was not allowed to move to the big, beautiful, brand new courthouse with us. He was too faded, and too dirty, and didn’t match the ambiance of the new digs.
The last time I saw our bull piñata, he was sitting on a shelf inside the vault, all by himself. I like to think he went down with the old, decrepit courthouse when it was demolished a year after we moved into the big, beautiful, brand new courthouse. Unfortunately, I’ve heard rumors that once we abandoned the old, decrepit courthouse, the old, decrepit roof finally caved in and the building was overrun with rats. Unfortunately, I’ve also heard rumors that the cops used the inside of the old, decrepit, flooded, abandoned courthouse for target practice, so I try to avert my thoughts from what might have happened to our bull piñata.
I’ve worked with more people over my 35+ year career than I care to count or remember. Some of them have since passed away. Many of them I didn’t keep in touch with, but there are some I wish I had. There are also some I was happy to never see again!
But most of my previous co-workers were dedicated, hard-working, wonderful people. We got to know each others troubles and joys. I saw pictures of their vacations. I held their babies. I heard stories about their grandchildren.
I’ve gone on moonlight hikes with some, walked on lunch breaks with some, went bowling with some, and had a pool party with some. We’ve had office parties and potlucks with incredible food and an in-house dancer for entertainment. I’ve gone to Jazzercise with one, and one attended both our sons’ weddings.
We’ve hugged when one of their family members or mine had health concerns. Some were with me in the hospital in Tucson when my husband had brain surgery. Some visited me in the hospital in Flagstaff when my husband had cardiac arrest.
Despite being retired for one year, two months, and seven days, I’m still in contact with many of my previous co-workers / friends on a regular basis. We talk on the phone or walk or have coffee or a meal.
It feels so good to gripe about the tough parts with the only people who will ever truly know what it was like – the people who experienced it right along with me, remember what we accomplished under extremely difficult circumstances, and understand the utter exhaustion at the end of every day. Good times!
It feels even better to be able to laugh about the tough parts. Laughter turns the tough times into the good times. Now that it’s over, I wouldn’t change a thing. Well… maybe a few.
I’ve kept three physical mementos to help me remember the tough/good times: an extra brick from the stack used to build the big, beautiful, brand new courthouse, a key to a now non-existent cash drawer in a now non-existent, old, decrepit courthouse, and a footstool I used in all three courthouses.
On the day I turned in my resignation in Tucson (to move to Flagstaff), my boss said to me, “Ok, now get the hell out of my office and let me deal with it.” On my last day of work in Flagstaff, they had a retirement party for me with flowers and cake and gifts and Mexican food.
I’ll never forget either one of those days.
There were years in both places that I thought often about quitting, but somehow I managed to stick it out for 35+ years. Sitting here now, it feels like Just a Blink.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. What is your favorite co-worker story? What was the hardest or strangest part of a job you’ve had? Any other court employees / retirees out there?
Thanks for passing Just a Blink of your time with me!
Respectful comments are welcome. Let’s inspire each other with a little wisdom and a lot of humor, patience, and kindness.
And now I’m catching up with your earlier posts. This one brings back lots of memories because as a self-employed Title Searcher I often had to visit courthouses to read the files (before everything was online). I still prefer to go in person when I can.
Hi Cherie! I enjoyed your writing about work. Thanks for sharing!