April 7, 2010

  • Selfless

    Meeting time.

    I sit at the head of the conference table as my vassals stream in and fill the seats before me. There is a low hum of restrained but obligatory greetings amongst them. Nobody risks being branded as the obsequious brown-noser by saying hello to me. Just as well. The last person to say good morning to me makes copies and coffee now.

    When every black suit has pulled together to form a solid rectangular outline around the table, the room automatically quiets and the hushed murmurs stop altogether. I take a sip of my coffee. It has too much sugar in it.

    “Well, what do we think of this new case? Shall we take on Mrs. Vane’s case against her employer for sexual harassment?” I spoke and wait for it.

    “It’s a fairly simple case to make,” someone starts.

    “We’ve done plenty of sexual harassment cases already with no sweat,” someone continues.

    The new intern finally spoke. “That’s true, but Mrs. Vane’s case seems kind of…” Bingo.

    “Kind of what Mr. Veene?” I ask, careful not to affect his answer with a suggestive tone of voice.

    “Well, kind of bogus Mr. Dough. Not to be blunt, but she seems to be pulling a case out of nothing. All her boss did was say that dresses are very flattering on her. Your neighbor could say that to you and you wouldn’t blink an eye except to say thank you. Added to the sum of money she’s suing for, and it looks like she has a motive for a very early retirement.” 

    “A very good observation Mr. Veene. The points you make are exactly right and should be obvious to the common man.” Silence. “So why did everyone else want to pursue this ‘bogus’ case then?”

    The room is silent and nothing moves except for my eyes sweeping across their downcast faces. Those two who spoke before are scared now.

    “I suppose we don’t have to take this case if it has no grounds…” one of them says.

    “WRONG!” I slam the table as I shoot up from my seat. Everyone looks surprised at my apparently contradictory actions. “This case is simple to present to the court. He once asked her out to lunch. His tone was very suggestive. Perhaps her coworkers have witnessed him giving her lewd looks. He made obscene gestures at her. She will find it impossible to work under male managers from here on out. These simple additions make a case substantial and the fact that most of her supposed early retirement takes the form of legal fees only adds to our motivation for taking on the case.”

    The new intern is embarrassed. My lips involuntarily curl upward.

    “Litigation is our salvation. Don’t forget our motto,” I add.

    The meeting continues for an hour as we extrapolate a solid story for Mrs. Vane and her boss. I am very good at my job, and the associates know it. That’s why these subservient examples of mediocrity stay to appreciate my lessons on how to be a great lawyer.

    I drove home in my 1985 custom made Cadillac. No red lights crossed my path today. I remembered how an ex-girlfriend of mine used make me play silly games with her, such as requesting a kiss from me every time the light turned red on us. I told her if anything happened while I was distracted from the road, I would be liable for all kinds of trouble. What a foolish girl. Of course we didn’t last long—none of them do. They always call me petty or cold-blooded or any of those flattering titles bestowed upon us lawyers. Unfortunately, simpletons lack the facilities to understand genius. Fortunately, genius lacks the patience to entertain simpletons for long.

    I pull up right in front of my building and see a dazed old man loitering around the sidewalk. The doorman should know better than to allow this to happen. I’ll have to speak with the building manager later.

    As I get out of the car, the scraggy thing scuffles towards me. He has a beard that reminds me of dirty snow and a face with the deep wrinkles of having weathered both sun and wind. His shoes can only be described as being in a used dog toy’s condition. Disgusting. I already know what he wants before he reaches a hand out and I raise mine to stop his voice from tainting my ears.

    “Listen, sir. Some of us have homes and don’t appreciate being badgered every time we enter or exit our house. This building has a strict no loitering policy. Now please leave the vicinity or you will be forced to leave.”

    “Beg you pardon mista, but ’ould you ’ave some extra change?” He completely ignored what I said and asked me anyway like a girl scout selling cookies.

    “If I give you some change, will you promise that I will never see your face again?”

    “I just need a li’ol change is all.” I reach into my coat pocket and find a stray quarter. I am absurdly generous today. It could have something to do Mrs. Vane’s case. A quarter doesn’t seem too terrible of a donation when compared to the quarter million invoice to be sent out within the next few months. I toss the quarter towards him and quickly walk away, chiding myself for being so irrationally selfless. I make a face at the doorman to show him my displeasure at having to negotiate with beggars when it is his job to keep the doorway clean, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he is pointing behind me at my car parked on the street.

    That vagrant! What the hell is he doing to my car? I spin around to see the man deposit a quarter into an expired meter.

Comments (4)

Comments are closed.

Post a Comment