Redweld Warrior
By Steve Gordon
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Prologue
"-and the record will clearly show that Jane Sommers was
sexually harassed while working at the firm of Tolcott, Teitelbaum,
Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch." The plaintiff's lawyer,
Mildred Aparn, was dressed in a formal black suit meant to match
the seriousness of the occasion. "During this period of time Ms.
Sommers was verbally degraded. She was called, by varying
employees and partners of the firm, a skirt, a bitch, a whore, a
slut, and other derogatory names which I will submit for the
record."
Jane Sommers sat at the small table behind her attorney. How
had it ever come to this? She could not force herself to look over
at the other side of the room, where the partners of Tolcott,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch sat, all stoney-
faced.
"Ms. Sommers was denied important work assignments that were
handed to male competitors in her office simply because she was a
woman. Her work consisted of lowly proofreading and diligence
assignments while a male associate at a comparable level was
drafting deal-making documents. When my client protested, she was
made to shelve books in the library and deliver packages to the
firm's Queens office. It was made clear to Ms. Sommers that if she
wanted to get ahead at the firm that she needed to play ball with
the associates. Usually, that meant having sex with Mr. Tolcott."
There was a small gasp from the audience. Tolcott, who had
been sitting there with a blank expression on his face, raised an
inquiring eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Ms. Sommers was treated beneath contempt at the firm. She
was made to perform useless assignments such as working long
weekends on projects that the partners knew to be canceled, and she
was even required to do the homework for the children of the
partners at Tolcott Teitelbaum. And as I have already mentioned
she was forced to shelve books in the firm library and deliver
packages around the city, as no other attorney at that firm, or
indeed in any respected firm in the country, would be required to
do."
Aparn wet her lips. "Ms. Sommers was given a receptionist who
verbally abused her, refused to do her work, and told callers that
she no longer worked there. When she complained, it was Ms.
Sommers, and not the secretary, who was reprimanded. Finally one
of the partners at this firm reached out and touched Ms. Sommers in
a sexual way, explicitly demanding sexual gratification as the
price for advancement in the firm."
"Jane Sommers is not a whiner. Nor is she a quitter. She
spent 15 months trying to make things work at the firm, despite the
fact that the system was stacked against her. What you're going to
hear during the course of this trial is her story, at the end of
which any reasonable person will be forced to conclude that the
firm tolerated an atmosphere where sexual harassment was not only
an acceptable but an encouraged way of doing business."
"This, now, will be Jane's story."
Chapter One: First Contact
Jane Sommers frowned, looking at herself in the mirror.
"Jane, you have everything going for you," said her best friend,
Denise Walzer.
Jane frowned, studying herself intently. She was 5' 8", thin,
with piercing blue eyes and straight dark hair that came down to
her shoulders. She was wearing a conservative beige dress but
wasn't very happy about it. "Maybe I should wear something that
stands out a little more. This just isn't me." Jane knew that in
an interview setting it was important to show that she was prim and
proper, businesslike and coldly professional. But even for
interviewing purposes Jane was not willing to entirely trade away
her humanity. She couldn't bear to give such an opposite
impression of herself, even if it cost her a potential job offer.
"This is you," Denise insisted. "At least, for purposes of
the interview, this is you." She studied her friend intently.
"This isn't about clothes, is it?"
Jane shook her head. "This is about making choices." Denise,
her best friend, always knew what was going on in her mind.
"Oh come on!" said Denise. "Jane, you're a top student from
Columbia Law School with straight A's. You have the looks, you
have the personality, you have the brains. You can do anything you
want. You have offers from four top firms, why are you so
gloomy!"
"I don't like them," said Jane. "They're stuffy, they're
pretentious, and I don't think I could thrive in an environment
like that." Jane had interviewed at firms where people walked
around with their noses stuck up in the air, where associates had
to make appointments to speak to partners, and where people spoke
to each other with the cold formality of formal royalty. Jane
wanted no part of that, and, despite her top record which gave her
the ability to work anywhere she wanted to, she found she had
trouble deciding whether she wanted to accept any of these offers.
The lure of public interest law was very strong-
"You could have opted for public interest," said Denise, again
reading her mind.
Jane grimaced. She did want to go into public interest work,
but... "I'm not ready for that yet. Unlike you, I have a load of
student loans to pay off. Believe me, I wish I could go straight
into the ACLU. That would be fascinating work." Fascinating
indeed! Jane loved the idea of litigating cutting-edge first
amendment work. But the pay just wasn't there, and she needed to
work in a lucrative setting for at least a few years to pay off her
debts; that was the price she had to pay in order to enjoy the
privileges of Columbia Law School.
"Then join me at Davis Polk! Don't interview at this scummy
place... What was the name?"
"Teitelbaum-, Tol... um, wait, let me check" She looked down
at a page in the employer directory. "Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing,
LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
Denise laughed.
"What's so funny?" Jane demanded. She knew it was a long,
tedious name, but the firm description sounded very enticing. The
firm resume spoke of a friendly, down to earth atmosphere, where
everybody got to know everyone else and people worked together
harmoniously not merely to get the work done, but to create a sense
of community, a sense of belonging for all associates, a feeling
that Jane hadn't gotten when she had interviewed with the larger
firms. At the same time the firm boasted of performing cutting
edge litigation work, which was right up Jane's alley. A couple of
years of trying cases at Tolcott Teitelbaum would give Jane the
experience she needed to make the jump to the ACLU, or another
public interest group. If Tolcott Teitelbaum was really such an
easy going law firm, it might just be the proper fit that Jane was
looking for.
Meanwhile Denise was still trying to get over the firm's name.
"I've never heard of a firm with such a longwinded name. It's
hysterical. Are you really interviewing with this two-bit firm?"
Jane flinched at the "two-bit" label, but calmly said, "The
reason I'm interviewing with a medium sized firm is that the
smaller firms are supposed to be places where one can get more
hands on experience more quickly in a nicer and friendlier
environment," said Jane. "It's a lifestyle choice. I don't want
to be a cog in a machine."
"But you have offers from top firms! You could go to Sullivan
& Cromwell! It's one of the top firms in the city! Sullivan &
Cromwell loves you!"
Jane put on her jacket. "But I don't love Sullivan &
Cromwell. Wish me luck."
Denise grimaced. "I wish you luck, but I think I'll regret it
later."
R. Bartlett Tolcott of Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi,
Kentrust & Kirch sat in a chair in Conference Room C in the
Columbia Law Library. Traditionally Tolcott had interviewed law
students in fancy hotel suites. Tolcott contrasted the idea of
such a regal setting with the drab surroundings of the law library.
Tolcott had tried to persuade the other partners to shell out the
funds for a good hotel room, but all of them, Kentrust especially,
had pointed out that it was ridiculous to pay for a hotel room when
the firm almost never recruited any students from Columbia anyhow.
Tolcott took the time between interviews to take resumes out
of his redweld, the accordion shaped folder that was the staple
office supply of law firms everywhere. The firm hadn't gotten a
candidate from Columbia in over three years. In fact, the last
Colombia graduate to come to Tolcott Teitelbaum had quit in just
under four months, a new firm record. Tolcott winced at the
memory. The young man had seem to fit in at first, but then he had
run into more and more trouble with the other associates and
partners. And then, all of a sudden and without warning, one day
the young man had run into Tolcott's office, just when he was in
the middle of a discussion with clients, and the young man had
yelled, "I can't take it any more!"
Tolcott focused on the resumes before him. As a rule, most of
the students who applied to Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi,
Kentrust & Kirch were in the bottom quartile of their class, and
nearly 80% of those were usually in the bottom ten percentile.
But one resume caught his attention. Jane Sommers. A
straight A student! What was a straight A student doing applying
to Tolcott Teitelbaum? If she had two arms and two legs she was
going to get a callback.
At that moment there was a knock on the door. "Come in," said
Tolcott.
Jane Sommers entered. She saw a slightly rumpled, middle-aged
balding man with white hair standing up to shake her hand.
"Jane Sommers," said Jane.
"Bart Tolcott," said Tolcott. "Good to meet you. Please,
have a seat."
Jane sat.
"So, what brings you to Tolcott Teitelbaum?"
Jane had her answer already prepared. "I'm looking for a
medium sized New York firm that will give me good experience as a
litigator."
"What other firms have you been seeing?"
Jane, reddening, told him. Obviously those firms were not
even in the same league with Tolcott Teitelbaum. But, for
honesty's sake, she added, "I even have offers from several of
them, including Sullivan & Cromwell. But I'm not too happy about
the prospect of going there."
"Why not?"
Jane made a face. "I'm looking for a firm with a more relaxed
environment, where people can be themselves. I'm looking for a
firm where I can get more responsibility more quickly. I hear that
people in the big firms spend their first two years photocopying."
"You hear right," said Tolcott, nodding approvingly. "At
Tolcott Teitelbaum we give responsibility very quickly. We don't
have first years sitting around on their hands doing proofreading
all day. You're interested in litigation? I'm not a litigator,
but-" he proceeded to describe in detail the work of the litigation
department. It was mostly commercial litigation, which was
standard for law firm practice. But Tolcott described how junior
people were given responsibility for their own cases. "Why, we had
a talented second year, and we let him run his own case."
"A second year?" said Jane, stunned. That would be almost
unheard of, even at Sullivan & Cromwell.
"Certainly. If you've got the talent, we give you all you can
manage," said Tolcott. "You didn't think you'd be taking
depositions until you're a fifth year, did you? That's not the way
we work."
"What about your training program?" That was very important
to Jane. She knew that in this modern day and era there was very
little training of new associates. Mostly they were left to sink
and swim on their own. It was important for her to know what sort
of training the firm provided for its junior associates.
"The training program." Tolcott blinked for a second. "Oh,
yes, we have an elaborate training program. The head of our
department, David Ailing, runs a critically acclaimed program where
he teaches the writing of motions and briefs. He's a professor at
Cardozo Law School, you know."
Jane looked both surprised and impressed. She didn't know
that full time professors could also be employed by law firms. But
she only said, "I'm impressed. What can you tell me about your pro
bono policy?"
"Our pro bono policy?" said Tolcott, raising an eyebrow. "Our
pro bono policy is one of the most acclaimed in the city. Between
five and ten percent of firm time is spent on pro bono."
"Ten percent," said Jane, raising an eyebrow of her own,
although not as high as Tolcott's. That was pretty impressive.
Firms with the best pro bono record only committed themselves to
5%-7% for pro bono. But ten percent! This really must be an
enlightened firm! "If you do that much pro bono work you must have
a specialty," said Jane, holding her breath.
"We do." Tolcott nodded. He glanced quickly at her resume,
seeing that she had worked at the local student branch of the ACLU.
"We do. We do a lot of... first amendment work." He looked at
her. She seemed very enthusiastic. "Do I take it that you'd be
interested in seeing more of the firm?"
Jane nodded. "Very much."
Bart tried to hide his eagerness. "Then let's set up an
interview. How about tomorrow morning? Or later today?"
Jane raised an eyebrow. This was highly unusual. Tolcott had
barely asked any questions of her, and, just a few minutes into the
interview, had invited her for a callback, and was so eager for a
callback, that he was trying to set one up for the same day!
Jane, not sure why she was suddenly hesitating, said, "Today,
uh, that's a little short notice."
Tolcott, realizing he was appearing a little overeager,
coughed diplomatically, and said, a little more casually, "Well,
how about sometime next week, like Wednesday or Thursday. Or, we
could call you to set up another time."
"No, Thursday is fine," said Jane, nodding.
Bart stood up, shaking her hand. "It was good to meet you."
The interview was over? Already?
She got up, looking at her watch. Less than fifteen minutes
had passed.
As Jane started for the door she noticed Tolcott gathering his
belongings. "Don't you have any more interviews?"
As a matter of fact, he did. Two more students, one of whom
with a straight C average and another who had only recently been
readmitted to the school because of disciplinary problems. "No,
I'm all done," said Tolcott. A real Columbia student! Finally,
the firm was getting a real Columbia student to interview with
them! Tolcott forced himself not to sprint out the door. He had
an urge to immediately call the firm, to tell the partners the good
news, and to warn everyone to be on their best behavior, even
though the interview would not take place until the following week.
Jane, not noticing his muted affect, smiled and made her way
out the door. "I look forward to seeing you again."
"Me too," said Tolcott. Then, after she had gone. "More than
you can know," he muttered.
"You got a callback? Great!" said Denise. "Did you like the
firm?"
"I haven't see the firm yet," said Jane. "But I liked what I
heard. Listen to this: 10% pro bono, in the area of first
amendment law!"
"I don't believe it!" Denise shrieked.
"It will be like working for the ACLU at law firm wages!" said
Jane. "And the responsibility! They let second year associates
try cases!" It was almost too good to be believed.
"Second years!"
"Um hum. And they have a great training program, and-" Jane
proceeded to relate the other details. "And this Mr. Tolcott seems
like such a darling, a warm, decent fellow. If all the lawyers
there are like him, I'm sure I won't have any problems."
"Maybe I was wrong," said Denise. "Maybe this will work out
for you. What are you going to tell Sullivan & Cromwell if they
call?"
"I'm going to tell them I'm thinking about it," said Jane,
giving a sly grin.
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch was
located in a tall office building on the corner of Broadway and
55th Street. Jane made a face as she got out of the subway. Most
law firms were located downtown on Wall Street, or in the East
40's, or even in the Rockefeller Center area on Sixth Avenue.
But Broadway, in the mid fifties? Never. The only other firm
in the area was Mayer Brown & Platt (which, Jane had been told, was
a simply ghastly firm to work for). The office building that the
firm was located in was surrounded by empty facades, ratty looking
newsstands, an "Everything for $1 store", and a seedy looking
pornography bookstore.
Jane realized that if she wanted a fancy address she could go
to work for Sullivan & Cromwell. She reminded herself that the
reason she had come here was because she didn't want to work for
Sullivan & Cromwell, and physical location did not make or break a
firm.
She entered the building, searching the directory. Yes,
Tolcott Teitelbaum was on the fourteenth and fifteenth floor.
Fourteenth and Fifteenth? That would be lower down than all the
buildings around them! What did this say about the firm?
For a moment Jane considered going home. Maybe Denise was
right, maybe this firm was too far out of her league. But it
doesn't cost anything to look, she reminded herself. And the way
Tolcott described it, it was simply a dream firm.
Jane entered the elevator, and began the slow ride up, feeling
the anticipation and anxiety slowly build. But when she emerged
she immediately felt better.
She was in a very modern lobby, with the words "Tolcott,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch" etched in gold along
one wall. Actually, the length of the wall was too small for all
the lettering, so LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch were on the second
line.
The floor was highly polished marble, as were the walls,
except where sleek light fixtures jutted out. Elegant victorian
chairs abutted the receptionist's desk, and pretty floral
arrangements dotted the room.
As Jane approached, she saw a lady with curly blonde hair
sitting behind the desk, picking her teeth. Seeing Jane walking
forward, the receptionist immediately removed the fingers that had
been performing their dental hygienic function. "Can I help you?"
she said, giving a bright smile.
"My name is Jane Sommers, I'm here to see Mr. Kenneth, your
recruiting coordinator," said Jane.
"I know who he is," said the woman, giving her a look. She
picked up a phone, dialed. "What did you say your name was?"
Jane told her.
"Yes? Hi, Jon, I have a Jane Summer here to see you," said
the receptionist. "Yes? Very well." She put down the phone, and,
turning to Jane, said, "Just have a seat. He'll be here in a
moment."
Jane sat. She felt a little apprehensive, as she would during
any interview. She kept reminding herself that she already had
four offers under her belt. If things didn't go well she could
always go to Sullivan & Cromwell.
After a few minutes she looked at her watch. Five minutes
passed, and then ten. Bored, Jane sifted through the magazines on
the coffee table. There was a Time magazine that was three months
out of date, and a Newsweek that looked as if it had been chewed up
by a dog. The only current publication that seemed intact was a
recent issue of Popular Mechanics. Jane leafed through it, idly
browsing.
When she next looked at her watch she realized she had been
sitting there for twenty minutes. Bracing herself, she went up to
the receptionist again.
The receptionist looked up from the current issue of Time
magazine. "Oh, it's you. How was your interview?"
"Nobody ever came," said Jane. What kind of moron did they
have manning their reception desk? Things didn't look good for
Tolcott Teitelbaum's prospects.
"Oh, really?" The receptionist picked up the phone. "Jon, I
still have.... what was your name?"
Jane told her.
"-still waiting to see you. Yes? Yes. Thanks."
She put down the phone. "So sorry," she said, without
sounding very much so.
"Quite all right," said Jane, but the receptionist was already
turned back to her magazine, humming her own tune.
Jane took a seat again.
After a short moment, a harried looking man quickly entered
the reception area, and, walking over to Jane, extended his hand.
"Jonathan Kenneth."
"Jane Sommers," said Jane.
"Come with me," said Kenneth. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting,
but I was just on the phone with the carpeting people."
"I thought you were the recruitment coordinator," said Jane.
Maybe she had asked for the wrong person.
"I am the recruitment coordinator. But I'm also office
administrator," said Kenneth. "We have low overhead here at the
firm. We find it's most efficient for one person to hold two
overlapping jobs. You won't find any slackers at Tolcott
Teitelbaum."
Jane wasn't sure what the work of an office administrator had
in common with that of a recruiting coordinator, but she held her
tongue. "Nice office you have here," she said, staring at the
freshly painted walls and the clean carpets.
"Thank you," said Kenneth. He brought her to a door marked
Oliver Kirch JR. Jane noticed that the "Jr" was oddly capitalized.
Kenneth knocked on the door, and cautiously entered. His body
language, sort of a torso cringe, showed great apprehension, and
Jane idly wondered why.
But the friendly occupant of the inner office gave no clue.
"Hello," said the occupant, giving a broad smile. "You must be
Jane. I'm Oliver Kirch."
Jane looked at him. He was an ordinary looking, middle aged
white man, and seemed normal enough... except for his eyes. Oliver
Kirch had the biggest eyes Jane had ever seen, huge orbs which
seemed like searchlights that could be trained on any target. His
eyes seemed to slowly scan up and down her body.
"So... I understand you're going to Columbia. Interesting.
Tell me about it."
And Jane did, for the next fifteen minutes, answering the
occasional question, none of which were too tough. Kirch seemed
friendly enough, and would seem to flash a smile every time she
mentioned the word "Columbia". She wondered if he were an alumnus,
but when she cast a quick glance at his wall, she saw a diploma
from Washburn University, an institution with which she was
unfamiliar.
Then there was a let up in the questions, and he just stared
at her, with those great big eyes of his. Jane, shifting
uncomfortably in her seat, asked a few questions of her own.
"Tell me more about your client base."
"Oh, we have a wide range of diversified clients," said Kirch.
"We do work for all the major fortune 500 companies-"
"All of them?"
"Well, the ones that count," he gave a grin. "We do
acquisitions, proxy fights, banking work-"
Wait a minute. Jane was just starting to realize that she was
speaking to a corporate attorney. What was she doing interviewing
with a corporate attorney?
"What about your litigation work?"
Kirch blinked, momentarily closing his huge bug eyes. "Oh, I
wouldn't know about that. You're interested in litigation?"
Jane nodded.
Kirch looked at her resume. "That's right, it says that down
here. Well, we also have an excellent litigation department, with
the same sort of clients-"
"And what about the training program?"
"The training program? It's very extensive," said Kirch.
"That's all I know. You'll have to talk to the litigation people
further."
"Then what about pro bono?" Jane asked.
Kirch blinked again, momentarily closing those two huge
searchlights. "What about it?"
"Tell me about pro bono opportunities."
"Oh, we have a wide range of pro bono work at the firm," said
Kirch. "We're very well known for pro bono."
"What kind?"
"We do a lot of landlord tenant work," said Kirch.
Jane raised her eyebrows. Something was beginning to be a bit
fishy here. "Mr. Tolcott said you did a lot of first amendment
work."
Kirch nodded vigorously. "Oh, we do. Quite a lot."
"I'm very interested in first amendment work. What sort of
cases have you handled recently?"
Kirch frowned. "I'm not involved with that. You'll have to
talk to Dave Ailing. You'll be seeing him later. Do you have any
other questions?"
Jane didn't.
Kirch stood up to shake her hands. "We'd be very delighted to
have you at the firm. Call us if you have any questions." And for
one last time he stared at her, with those huge, creature-ish eyes,
as if she was some sort of laboratory animal. It made her feel a
little uncomfortable.
Jane would have felt even more uncomfortable when she had
stood up to leave if she had noticed Kirch's gaze falling down,
focusing on more personal aspects of Jane's suited form.
Kenneth was waiting outside for her, with four large packets
of papers in his hands. "Take one of these, will you?" he said,
sliding one into her arms.
Jane did. "What is it?"
"Paper. We're just going to drop it off at the copy center.
I've been meaning to do this all morning."
Wait a minute. Jane was here on an interview, and she was
being used to deliver paper to the copyroom? What was wrong with
this picture?
They dropped off the paper, and as they headed off, Jane
caught bits and pieces of conversation. She heard a messenger
saying, "I've got a package here for Mr. Kentrust."
One of the staff people said, "Where's it from?"
"Sak's."
"Deliver it in person."
"Why?"
"Mr. Kentrust wants to get all his packages in person."
Kenneth took Jane down the hallway to the next interviewer.
"Mr. Kentrust is one of the big partners here," he explained.
"Always appreciates personal service."
He brought her to a door marked "Bruce Teitelbaum." Inside
the spacious office a huge whale of a man sat. Even from behind
his desk Jane could see his enormous gut, rolling out and down over
his hefty belt.
Mr. Teitelbaum, on the phone when they came in, motioned for
her to sit down. "Really?" he said, to the phone. "Ho ho ho ho
ho!" he chuckled, sounding very jolly. "Listen, I have to go. I'm
interviewing a prospective." A pause. "Columbia." Another pause.
"No, I'm not kidding. I have to go. Bye."
Teitelbaum made eye contact, getting up to warmly shake Jane's
hand. Jane couldn't help but notice that a huge layer of blubber
rolled down his body as he struggled to stand up.
"Ho ho ho, good to meet you, Jane," he boomed.
They made light pleasantries for several minutes. When it
became Jane's turn to speak, she said, "Tell me more about your
litigation department."
Mr. Teitelbaum raised an eyebrow. "Litigation? I'm the head
of the corporate department."
Actually, he was the head of the corporate department in only
the vaguest sense of the word. Tolcott actually ran the corporate
department; Teitelbaum, a more elderly man in his early 60's, spent
most of his time "rain making", or soliciting clients for business.
He usually didn't spend his time with the little people, and in
fact didn't even know the names of most of the junior associates in
his area, but he turned on the charm for Jane. He wet his lips.
She looked kind of cute.
But Jane wasn't focusing on the subtle signs of Teitelbaum's
lust. She was still absorbing the shock of the discovery that she
was interviewing for a corporate job. Corporate law? Forget it.
She could go to Sullivan & Cromwell for that. Jane cleared her
throat. "I'm sorry, I thought I was interviewing for the
litigation department." She got up to leave.
"Litigation? Wait!" said Mr. Teitelbaum, so alarmed that he
almost managed to stand up, before he was pulled down by his
enormous weight. "Of course if you're interested in litigation
that's what we'll have you do. It doesn't matter who interviews
you."
"It doesn't?"
"No," said Mr. Teitelbaum. He exhaled visibly as Jane took
her seat. "We're a small firm, not very compartmentalized."
"I see."
"We'll have you meet with Dave Ailing next. He's the head of
the litigation department. How does that sound?"
"Fine," said Jane, smiling.
David Ailing III had a large corner office. He was a tall,
thin, graying man. But he had a bright smile and he vigorously
shook Jane's hand. "Come in, come in... I've heard so much about
you."
He sat down behind his desk. "We have a secret," he said,
smiling slyly.
"We do?" said Jane, wondering what he was talking about.
"Something in common," said Ailing. "Can you guess?"
"Uh... No," said Jane, shaking her head. What was he talking
about?
"I'm a fellow alumni," said Ailing, grinning.
"You went to Columbia?" said Jane, giving a broad smile.
"No, Barrings High School," said Ailing. "Four of the best
years of my life."
"That's nice," said Jane, her smile fading. A little voice
inside her told her that this man was a bit of a nut.
David Ailing was a bit eccentric, but he was also brilliant.
A top graduate of NYU and Fordham, he had been Editor in Chief of
the Law Review and had clerked for a federal judge, one of the only
attorneys at Tolcott Teitelbaum to have clerked. But on the other
hand he had also been fined for "streaking" or indecent exposure on
two occasions in his earlier youth, and even in recent times he
sometimes took to dressing as a hobo on the subway and playing the
harmonica loudly, much to the annoyance of the other riders. For
if there was one thing that David Ailing loved it was music; he had
added software to his computer to enable him to use it as a musical
keyboard, from which to play electronically synthesized music.
Ailing cleared his throat, and looked at Jane mischievously.
"I understand you're interested in first amendment work. Did you
know I handled the Gergen case when I clerked for Justice McKenna?"
"Really?" said Jane, her eyes sparkling. The Gergen case was
the trailbreaking first amendment case of the late 1970's. "Tell
me about it!"
That was all Ailing needed. For the next half hour he
proceeded to launch into a detailed anecdote. "-and McKenna was
clueless. He turned to me in chambers and said, how do you think
we should handle this?"
"What did you do?" said Jane, hanging onto every word.
Ailing smiled. She was hooked.
After nearly an hour had passed, Ailing looked at his watch.
"Well, time's passing. Is there anything you'd like to ask about
us?"
Jane realized that he had asked almost nothing about her. But
they had seemed to click almost instantly, the minute she had
stepped through the door. That was the important thing. But she
asked, "Tell me more about your litigation practice."
"Oh, we do cutting edge litigation work," said Ailing. "Big
name clients, always coming up with original issues. It's an
exciting, challenging practice. You'll love it."
Jane nodded, accepting that as a given. "And training? What
about the writing program?"
"The writing program?" Ailing raised an eyebrow. "Who told
you about that?"
"Mr. Tolcott," said Jane.
"Well, we call it the training program," said Ailing, warming
up to the subject. "Because it's not just about writing, you see,
it's also courtroom strategy...." He proceeded to describe the
subject in detail. In midlecture he stopped, and raised a finger.
"Wait," he said, turning away. He wheeled a computer on a stand
over to her. "And now, a number."
He pressed a button, and a menu appeared on the screen.
LITIGATION
MEMOS
STRATEGY
BRIEFS
MOTIONS
FILINGS
"It's all here," said Ailing. "Anything a lawyer could ever
need. On the tips of your fingers, on CD-ROM!" He pressed a
button, and an animation of a lawyer in the courtroom started to
speak. "We have all kinds of demos!"
A half hour later Jane was thoroughly impressed. She loved
computers, and it was obvious to her that Tolcott Teitelbaum used
high-tech equipment in their practice, even better than the old LAN
system at Sullivan & Cromwell. They were cutting edge, all cutting
edge!
There was a gentle knock on the door, and they saw Kenneth,
gently clearing his throat. "Mr. Ailing, I've simply got to move
this young lady on."
"But we were having such fun," said Ailing, looking like a
child. He got up, shook her hand. "Jane, I know you'll be a great
addition to the firm. If you have any questions, give me a
call."
"How was it?" said Denise, frowning skeptically. "Was it
good?"
"Was it good? It was great!" said Jane. "The head of the
department, Mr. Ailing, is a real sweetheart. He's done a ton of
first amendment work, we got along great, it was like we knew each
other for years-"
"Whoa," said Denise. "What about pay? What about benefits?"
"Benefits? They each have their own multimedia computer with
the latest litigation software," said Jane. "You should see their
training program. It would put Sullivan & Cromwell to shame. D,
they give individual attention there; I can feel it's the right
place."
"What about pay?"
Jane shrugged. "It's about the same as Sullivan & Cromwell."
"The same?"
"In the first year. Then I imagine it goes up a little more
slowly afterwards." Jane was kind of vague on that, but what did
it really matter?
"How much?"
"I didn't ask. Let's see, if S & C goes up, say, $17,000 a
year, Tolcott Teitelbaum probably goes up $12,000 or $13,000."
"Don't be so sure," Denise cautioned.
"Oh, who cares about the money anyway? D, this is where I can
be happy. I can feel it," said Jane. She jumped up and down a
little, practically brimming with excitement.
Denise shook her head. "You're going to turn down Sullivan &
Cromwell for Tolcott Teitelbaum. What's wrong with this picture?"
"Nothing. It's perfect." Jane nodded. "I'm going to call
them right now." She moved to pick up the phone.
"Jane, you worked so hard. Is this really where you want to
go? Think!"
Jane thought. She had worked hard, first in high school in
order to get into college, and then even harder in college in order
to get into law school. Her parents had wanted her to get an MBA,
to go to business school to become some great investment banker,
but Jane had displayed little interest in that idea. She had
considered joining the peace corp or a worthy charity, but her
parents would not have heard of it. So they had compromised; Jane
would go to law school, but she would not become a corporate
lawyer. Originally she thought that she would work in public
interest upon graduation, but the realities of the need to pay off
her school debts soon changed that. So her parents told her that
if she was going to work in a firm (which secretly was their idea
all along) that she should work at the best, at the top.
But Jane didn't want to work at the top, she wanted to work in
a humane workplace, a firm with a good work environment and a
strong social consciousness. And now, by a brilliant stroke of
luck, she had found such a firm. Jane reached over to pick up the
phone again. Why delay the inevitable?
Denise sat on the phone. "Don't. Do me a favor? Sleep on
it? Think about it, a few days, at least?"
Jane, somewhat reluctantly, agreed.
The next day Jane received a phone call. It was Mr. Tolcott.
"Jane? This is Bart Tolcott. How are you?"
Jane admitted that she was fine.
"We were wondering if you have any questions."
Jane started to say no, but then she asked, "Yes. I was
wondering, if I come to the firm, what department will I work in?"
Tolcott took a deep breath on his end. "You'll be primarily
a litigation associate."
"Primarily?"
"Well, our philosophy at Tolcott Teitelbaum is that everyone
helps out where they're needed. But I'm sure that someone of your
caliber would be doing litigation almost exclusively, if that's
what you wanted."
Jane nodded. "Ok. Sounds good." And then she reached a snap
decision. "I'll do it."
"Really?" Tolcott was speechless. "That's great! Welcome
aboard! We're going to be glad to have you."
"I'll be glad to be a part of the team," said Jane. She made
a few polite pleasantries, and hung up.
When she told Denise, she nearly flipped. "Jane, you told me
you were going to think about it for a few days!"
Jane shrugged. "I changed my mind."
Denise sighed. "Well, maybe it's for the best. How many
people did you meet in your department, anyway?"
How many...? Come to think of it.... "One."
"One? Jane, are you out of your mind?"
"He's the chairman of the department," said Jane defensively,
thinking of Mr. Ailing. "He's the most important one. And he's a
great man."
"Ok, how many associates did you talk to?"
"Associates?" said Jane. She frowned. "Come to think of it,
they never got me around to see associates. But I saw them in the
halls. I'm sure they're friendly enough."
Denise buried her face in her hands, started to weep silently.
Jane pulled her hands apart. "I've just got a feeling about
the place, ok? It's going to work out, it really will."
"Did you turn down Sullivan & Cromwell yet?"
"This morning."
Denise remained inconsolable.
Chapter 2: The Fall
One year later.
One year later, Jane Sommers stepped through the glass doors
of Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch. She had
aced her third year of law school with flying colors, and
immediately had plunged into the bar review course without a pause.
Studying for the bar had been a hectic time for most, but not for
Jane. She eagerly plowed through the material, absorbing the
smallest details of New York law. The actual bar exam was
anticlimactic, to say the least: for Jane, it was little more than
a minor exertion, a barrier, something between her and her goal:
handling major cases in a high powered law firm.
"Jane Sommers for Mr. Kenneth," said Jane, stepping up to the
curly haired receptionist.
"Who?" said the receptionist, taking a finger out of her ear.
Jane repeated herself.
"Oh, you're the new associate from the good school," said the
woman. She extended the hand that had been industriously working
on her ear. "My name is Sally. Welcome to the firm."
Jane shook her hand without a qualm. "Is there a restroom I
can use here?"
There was. Jane calmly washed her hands, and quickly
returned. Mr. Kenneth was waiting for her. "Welcome. Come to my
office."
Kenneth had a small office that was stacked with many
different kinds of lamps. "I apologize for the mess. Once I get
done with recruiting this morning, I have to rewire this bunch."
He handed her a stack of papers. Here, please fill these out."
Jane started filling out the forms. They asked every
conceivable question about her past: her family, her education,
her background... and then there were other, more personal
questions.
"Mr. Kenneth?" said Jane.
"Hm?" said Kenneth, looking up from where he was rewiring a
lamp. "Call me Jon."
"Jon, why do you need to know my weight, eye color, hair
color, and measurements?" Jane wanted to know.
Kenneth waved a hand. "Oh, that's all routine. In case
you're injured in an accident, forbid the thought, this will make
it easier to identify you."
"Hm," said Jane, scanning down the list further. "What about
this question asking sexual preference? Will that make it easier
to identify me as well?" The question had a number of answers:
lesbian, gay, bi, trans, hetero, abstinent, or other. Well, it
seemed they covered all the bases. But what was "other"? Jane
held her tongue, and, after a pause whether she considered if she
wanted to answer the question at all, checked heterosexual. But
then she only found herself raising her eyebrows even more at the
next question. "I can understand you wanting to know if I have a
spouse. But a girlfriend or boyfriend? What business of yours is
that?"
"We have to know who to identify in the case of an emergency,
said Kenneth soothingly. "We also offer benefits to domestic
partners at the firm. That is why we ask."
"Oh? Oh, really?" said Jane. "That's a different story."
She checked "single", and moved on. In a short time she had
finished all the questions.
"Excellent," said Kenneth. "Just a minute." He was
manipulating one of the lamps. Jane wondered why he was doing the
job of a mechanic. "Ok," he said. He got up. "Time to go to your
office."
Jane's office was big. It was large and rectangular shaped,
with big, opened windows that looked out on the street below.
There were two desks, one on either side of the room, each facing
the other. A young man sat at one desk.
"Jane, I'd like you to meet one of your fellow first years,
Tim Talman."
"Timothy A. Talman II," corrected the young man, as he stood
up to shake Jane's hand. He said "the second" as if he were
visiting royalty, but what Jane noticed as she stood up was his
height, or lack thereof; Talman was short, just a little over five
feet tall. He was impeccably groomed however, with carefully
combed straight hair. On his cufflinks was written, in small
letters, TAT, presumably, Tim A. Talman. Jane wondered why Tim had
his initials written on his shirt. So they wouldn't get lost in
the cleaners? It was kind of odd.
Tim Talman was descended from four generations of lawyers, so
it was only natural for him to join the esteemed profession. His
parents had had high expectations for him, but were disappointed
when he could not get into a better firm than Tolcott Teitelbaum;
still, he would be a lawyer, a lawyer practicing a law, and so
carry on the tradition. And surely the other lawyers at the firm
would notice his superior quality and promote him quickly, for Tim
was a natural leader, born to direct and supervise others. Jane
would be his immediate competition, but, sizing her up, Talman was
not very concerned; she was, after all, just a girl.
Kenneth frowned. "Tim, didn't we put you at that desk?" He
indicated the desk at the other side of the room.
"I wanted this desk," said Talman. "What time did she
arrive?" He spoke to Kenneth about Jane in the third person, as if
she wasn't even in the room.
"Uh, 9:30," said Talman.
"I arrived at 9:20," said Talman. "I have seniority."
"Whatever," said Kenneth, shrugging. It didn't matter to him.
Jane opened her mouth, wondering if she should object. But it
was the first day, and she decided it wasn't worth making a stink
about a desk. All the desks were probably the same, right?
She nodded, and went to her desk.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Kenneth promised. "I have to
check on the third member of your class." He left.
"So, you're one of the three," said Tim, giving her an
appraising eye. "The woman from Columbia."
Jane frowned. She didn't like being typecast. There was a
certain sneering way in which he said "woman from Columbia". But
she only said, "Yes." Jane turned to her desk, started to open the
center drawer. It was stuck. She tried pulling harder.
"You must have gotten top grades," said Talman. "I was a
straight A student myself."
"That's nice," said Jane, tugging harder at the drawer.
"Where did you go to school?"
Talman mumbled something, and Jane, not really interested, did
not follow up. She kept tugging at the drawer.
"That won't open, you know."
Jane turned to Talman. "How did you...."
"I almost sat at that desk, remember? The center drawer
doesn't work."
"Which is why you switched desks." Jane gave him a well
earned glare. Already she was beginning to dislike him. Well, at
least she wouldn't be working for him.
"Hey, I got seniority," said Talman defensively.
At that moment Kenneth reappeared. "Everyone still with us?
Good. Then time for your tour."
They started going down the hall. The first door they came to
was Mr. Tolcott's.
"He's busy, you can't go in," said his secretary. She got up,
extended her hand. "My name is Dana."
Talman's eyes bulged, and they weren't the only things
standing out. Dana was wearing a very revealing low cut shirt
combined with very tight brown pants. Jane didn't make a face as
she shook Dana's hand, but inwardly she disapproved of such casual
attire. She wondered why Mr. Tolcott and the other partners stood
for it.
"Come back later. Bawrt will see you then," she said,
apparently mispronouncing his name.
They came to a large yet familiar partner's office. Mr.
Teitelbaum. Mr. Teitelbaum was on the phone.
"-ho ho ho," said Mr. Teitelbaum, as he industriously cleaned
his nose. He looked up at the visitors, gave a friendly wave. "Ho
ho ho," he chuckled again into the phone.
"It seems everybody is very busy today," said Kenneth.
Their next stop was Mr. Kirch's office. He greeted them, and
trained his huge eyes on Jane. "How are you doing, Jane?"
Jane admitted that she was well.
They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, and then Kirch
dismissed them, saying to Jane, "I look forward to working with
you."
Jane thought this was a little strange. She didn't know that
Mr. Kirch did any litigation work. Why would she be working with
him?
They met one or two other partners, and then they went through
the ranks of associates. Jane's unease only grew when it became
apparent that the only associates they were meeting were the
corporate associates. She was in the litigation department; what
was going on here?
But one interesting fellow they did meet in the corporate
department was a midlevel associate named David Kapnick. He talked
to them with a steady stream of dialogue, all the while chewing on
a candy bar and drinking a can of soda. "-mmph, we do very...
gulp, gulp... complex work here," he said, attempting to do two
things at the same time while not doing a very good job of either.
"So you're from Columbia," said Kapnick. "What was your GPA
in your first year of law school?"
Why was everyone asking her grades? "Um..."
"Whatsa matter, didn't do so well?"
"Well... about a 3.9," said Jane after a cautious pause.
"No way," said Kapnick. "What about your college GPA? High
school?"
"What is this, an interrogation?" said Jane, smiling
nervously. "Why don't you ask Tim here?"
If there were two things in this world that David Kapnick
liked, it was eating food and grilling people. His first habit had
contributed mightily to his waistline, which was now growing at a
rate of an inch or two every year. His problem wasn't that so much
that he ate fatty foods (which he did), but that he was always
eating; he once said that the law made him hungry, and if so he had
entered a profession which was guaranteed to give him a ravenous
appetite. As for his second habit, he was always interrogating
people, always measuring them up, always seeing where they fit in
on his scale of perfection. Usually most of them didn't measure up
to the Kapnick standard, but Kapnick continued to grill them
anyway, especially the women. Especially the cute women.
"Why don't I ask Tim? Well, Tim here isn't the hotshot woman
from Columbia," said Kapnick.
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," said Jane softly.
She immediately filed Kapnick's image within a mental file labeled,
"Brash, Male, Jerk".
"Come now, come now," said Kenneth, sensing the tension in the
air. "You'll have to excuse David, he's such a kidder. Let's
move-"
Suddenly, there was a scream from down the hall. "NO!!!"
they heard.
And then, "I WANT THAT DEAL CLOSED TODAY! NO... FUCK YOU! IF
IT'S NOT CLOSED TODAY, YOU CAN GO SCREW YOURSELF!" And then there
was a slam, as if a phone were crashed down on a receiver very,
very hard.
"What was that?" said Jane, a little stunned.
"One of the partners, Harry Kentrust," said Kenneth. "He can
be very... vocal sometimes."
"Very vocal, from two hallways down," Talman commented.
"On with the tour, shall we?" said Kenneth. They entered
another associate's office. "Jane, Tim, I want you to meet Heidi
Blakelock."
"Call me Heidi," said a tall young lady, giving a friendly
smile. She had an angular face, with a prominent square jaw,
piercing green eyes, and full, fleshy pink lips. Something looked
odd about her hair; it was thinning a bit, and tied up in back, but
there was definitely something... well, something not natural about
it, something Jane could not put her finger on. "Welcome to the
firm, Jane," she said, smiling again. "It's good to have another
gal in the ranks. There are all too few of us here." She flashed
Jane a quick smile.
"It's good to be here," said Jane. She immediately sensed
that Heidi was a regular, down to earth kind of woman, and realized
that this could be a good friend; Jane smiled warmly back at her.
Heidi definitely seemed like a class act. Now, why couldn't Heidi
have been her roommate, rather than Talman? But Jane knew the
answer to that one: she and Talman were the new ones, while Heidi
was a second year associate.
Kenneth introduced them to several other associates, but all
of them were in the corporate department. Jane began to get an
uneasy feeling. When were they going to meet the litigation
people?
Kenneth next took them to the library. They walked into what
looked as if it had once been a small storage room, with empty
boxes stacked haphazardously against the wall, and then past four
small shelves of books, and then they stopped. Jane frowned; where
was the rest of the library?
Kenneth knocked on a little door. "John? John?"
"What do you want?" said the voice through the door.
"I have the first years here. I'd like you to come out and
meet them," said Kenneth, with just the beginning of a hard edge to
his voice.
There was a pause. "All right." The door opened, and a large
cloud of cigarette smoke wafted out to them. Jane immediately
started coughing.
A heavyset, balding man stepped out of the room. "Welcome to
the firm," he said dryly. "My name is John Moss, chief librarian."
Jane looked around the small library. She didn't see anybody
else. She wondered if there were any other librarians.
Introductions were made all around.
"So, this is your first day?" said Moss.
Jane and Talman nodded.
"When are we going to see you down here in the stacks?" Jane
thought it was funny for him to call those four little bookshelves
stacks.
Jane shrugged. "Whenever we get our first research
assignment."
"No," said Moss. "I mean, when do you start working for me?"
"What?" said Jane, wondering if this was some sort of bad
joke.
Kenneth immediately interposed himself between the two. "One
of the prices we pay for having a small, congenial atmosphere is
that everyone is asked to pitch in and help out. Junior associates
are asked to help out in various capacities. You two have been
assigned to the library. It's only a few hours a week, and you'll
find that it's a great way to familiarize yourselves with the books
we have here in the library."
Jane was speechless. Talman didn't look surprised, but
neither did he look very happy.
"I'll call you when I need you," Moss suggested. "I think
we'll have some shelving to do later today." He went back into his
office, his hands resting on a discarded magazine. "We're really
shorthanded here." Then he closed the door.
Jane and Talman exchanged glances. What kind of a firm was
this? Attorneys shelving books? Were they joking?
"What's next on our tour?" said Kenneth. "Ah yes, the file
room."
"Is he for real?" Jane whispered.
"Afraid so," said Talman. "But just wait till you see the
file room."
The file room was located in a small interior office. As soon
as they entered, an angry looking middle aged man glared at them.
"What are you doing here?"
"Ivan, these are two of the new associates."
"You already brought the new associate in today!" Ivan
snapped, glaring at them.
Ivan Smallbridge was not a happy person. As a child, bigger
and larger brothers had used him as a punching bag. He joined a
street gang when he was 12, prowling the streets and ignoring his
studies, only straightening up and starting to fly right in high
school. There he worked hard to maintain a solid B+ average and
worked hard to get a respectable 1050 on the SAT's, but then he had
gotten arrested for drug use, a foolish, weak foible. He had
received probation, but with his record was not admitted to
college, and spent several years working in stockrooms and supply
houses. And then several years ago his Uncle Ernie had gotten him
this job at Tolcott Teitelbaum. But although the pay was better as
a fileroom clerk, this profession was hardly Ivan's idea of life
fulfillment; and as a result he was unhappy, and frequently shared
his unhappiness with others.
Kenneth smiled thinly. "That associate you met earlier was
Sam Bertow, the other new associate. These associates you haven't
met yet."
"Well, you've interrupted my work, so let's get it over with!"
Ivan turned to them. "I'm Ivan Smallbridge, Chief File Room
Archivist. Behind me is Alberto, my assistant. Who are you?"
Introductions were made.
"Here are the rules!" said Ivan, handing them a sheet. He
started to read from it. "Always make an appointment before coming
to the file room. When you come to the file room, do not go beyond
that white line," he indicated a line of tape on the floor. "Call
out, Chief Archivist, I politely request your assistance. Wait.
When I escort you to the shelves, spend no more than two minutes
looking at the file. If you're going to look at a file for any
longer than that, you must check it out. If I find that you've
taken something from the files without checking it out, you will be
severely punished!" He glared at them, for good measure. "Make
sure you do not damage the files, or the redwelds they come in. I
don't want to see any wrinkled redwelds! Are we clear?"
Jane and Talman nodded.
"I said, are we clear?"
"Clear." "Crystal."
Ivan nodded satisfactorily. "Are these the ones who are
working for me?"
"No, Sam Bertow is working for you. You met him earlier this
morning," said Kenneth.
"Um," said Ivan. "Very well." He dismissed them. "You may
go now."
When they had exited, Kenneth said, "He seems like a martinet,
but he does his job very well."
Jane said nothing.
Next Kenneth took them to the kitchen.
"This is our associate dining area," said Kenneth, indicating
a small, darkly lit room where several rickety tables were. Cans
of paint and little pieces of wood littered one corner of the room.
"Associate dining area? Where do the partners eat?" Jane
wanted to know.
"In their offices," said Kenneth. He quickly added, "They're
very busy. They seldom have the time for the leisurely lunches
afforded the associates."
Suddenly an elderly woman waddled into the room. "What you
doing here?" she said, in broken English.
Kenneth explained that these were the new associates, and
introduced them. "Jane, Tim, this is Ivanova, our kitchen
personnel."
Ivanova looked Jane over as if she were a side of beef.
Sniffing, she said, "You come here, you make no mess in my
kitchen."
Jane and Tim promised that they wouldn't.
"That good. You not make mess, we get along fine."
Next Kenneth took them to the copy room. "Gentlemen, I want
you to meet Joe Staton and Moe Bilrobden, our copy room service
persons."
Joe was a short, thin, not-too-friendly person who nodded
slowly. Moe was a tall, thin, sad looking person who just glared
at them.
"And that, I think, is the end of our tour," said Kenneth. He
snapped his fingers. "Wait. You probably want to meet your other
fellow first year. Come with me."
They walked up a flight of stairs. "This is where the
litigation department is housed," said Kenneth. They walked to a
small interior office. On one side of the room were stacks of
office supplies. On the other was a small desk, where a young man
sat.
"Sam Bertow, I'd like you to meet your fellow first year
associates, Tim Talman and Jane Sommers."
They all shook hands.
"Tim and Jane are working in corporate."
"What?" That was too much for Jane. This entire tour had
been nothing short of preposterous, and Jane had wisely stayed
silent. But this was too much to bear.
Kenneth looked surprised. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not in corporate; I'm in litigation."
"That's not what your file indicated," said Kenneth. "You
must be mistaken."
Jane felt her blood pressure rise. "Believe me, I'm not
mistaken." Her mind racing, she immediately thought of the one
individual who was most responsible for hiring her. "I'd like to
speak to Mr. Tolcott, please." Her amiable friend, Mr. Tolcott,
would straighten out this misunderstanding. Or so Jane felt. She
started to get a bad feeling....
Bart Tolcott had a corner office on the floor where most of
the corporate attorneys resided, including, apparently, Jane. He
sat in his office, one hand resting on his head, the other circling
something on a piece of paper.
"Jane," he said, in a dull monotone voice. Tolcott looked as
if he were tired, or depressed about something. What was wrong?
Was he sick? Was he ill?
"Mr. Tolcott-"
"Call me Bart," he said, in the same monotone.
"Bart, then," said Jane, giving a false smile. "Kenneth here
tells me that I'm to be in corporate."
Tolcott covered his face in his hands momentarily. A long
moment passed. When he looked up, Jane was still there.
Tolcott turned to Kenneth. "Leave us, please." Then he said,
"Jane, please turn off the lights."
What? What was going on here? Jane turned off the lights.
It was a sunny morning, and the room was still fairly well
illuminated. Jane cast a glance at Tolcott's desk. He had an
associate questionnaire before him. And it looked like Jane's!
Jane immediately got to the point. "Why am I being put in
corporate? I thought we had agreed that I was to be in
litigation."
"I think we said partly litigation," said Tolcott.
"No, you said primarily," said Jane.
"We simply don't have the room in the litigation department
right now, Jane."
Jane couldn't believe her ears. Then she had been lied to!
"But you told me-"
"Based on what I knew then. But that was almost a year ago,"
said Tolcott, as if that explained everything.
Jane bit her lip. Wait a minute, they had put someone new in
litigation, another first year. "What about Sam Bertow?"
"What about him?"
"He's in litigation, isn't he?"
Tolcott raised an eyebrow. "He is?"
"You didn't know?"
"No," said Tolcott, shaking his head. "I don't know what goes
on in the other departments. We're very autonomous here."
Riiiggghht. Suddenly, Jane's whole world was turning upside
down. She grimaced for a moment, and then said, "What about your
promise to me?"
Tolcott sighed. "Listen Jane, when we get the first opening
in litigation, I promise that we'll move you. You'll be the first
to move in. In the meantime we'll see what we can do about getting
you some litigation assignments."
"Some?" said Jane. She still couldn't believe this was
happening. Why was the litigation slot given to Bertow and not
her?
"You'll be a... a corporate/litigation associate. Doing a
little of both. And it will only be temporary, just for a few
months, until we find you an opening in litigation. And it may not
even be that long."
"Well...." Jane sighed. Her bargaining power wasn't very
strong at this point; perhaps it would be best to accept this
compromise and push for more later. "Very well." It wasn't as if
she had much choice in the matter. But she hoped this
"misunderstanding" wasn't going to be a harbinger for the rest of
her experience at Tolcott Teitelbaum. Jane peeked a glance at the
questionnaire before Mr. Tolcott. It looked like he had circled
several of the responses she had provided. What was he interested
in?
Tolcott, catching her glance, put his hands over the paper.
Jane turned to go, but another thought struck her. "And one
more thing."
"Yes?"
"This library business. You never told me that I was going to
be a library assistant."
"It's an excellent way to familiarize yourself with the
materials in the library. We're a small firm and we ask everyone
to pitch in. It's just a few hours a week, and I'm sure you're
willing to pitch in and do your fair share, aren't you?"
He was really serious! Jane was tongue-tied. But Tolcott
spoke so matter-of-factly, making it sound as if any objection she
made would be unreasonable. What was with him anyway? He seemed
so depressed! Was he always like this? What was wrong with him?
Did he need a doctor?
All those thoughts swirled through Jane's mind. But one thing
she was certain of was that this conversation wasn't leading
anywhere. She'd better leave before she'd be forced to make more
concessions; if she stayed in Bart's office much longer, she'd be
doing janitorial work.
Jane turned to leave the gloomy office, but was struck by one
more thought. "Do you want the lights back on?"
"Keep them off," came the monotone response.
As she got back to her office (which she now knew was in the
corporate department), Jane caught up with Kenneth.
"Ah, Jane, good, there you are. I want you to meet your
secretary, Vic Carbone."
They shook hands. Carbone was a middle aged white male with
a large paunch who looked as if he had seen better days. A
cigarette dangled carelessly out of the corner of his mouth. "Hey,
lady," he grunted, by way of greeting.
"You can call me Jane," said Jane, trying to get off on the
right foot.
"Uh," he grunted, walking away.
Jane and Tim spent the next two hours at their desk. No work
came their way, but Jane didn't mind, not at first. She had a lot
of information to digest.
She had been deceived, that much was clear, even on the very
first day. They had lied to her about her working conditions, and,
most importantly, what department she would be in. What interest
did she have in doing corporate work? Zero. She would be
miserable, there was no doubt about it. But what do to now? She
had accepted this firm's offer, and she was there. There wasn't
much that she could do.
Jane sat at her desk, silently feeling sorry for herself.
Around lunchtime there came a tap on their door. It was
Kenneth. "There you are!" he said, as he were surprised that they
had not been tempted to defect and go work for another firm while
he was gone. "We were trying to organize a lunch for you, on your
first day, but it just fell through. You should go and get your
own lunch."
Jane got up. Nothing was surprising her any more today. She
looked at Talman, and shrugged. He shrugged back.
They collected Sam Bertow, the other first year associate, and
went to a small restaurant downstairs in the lobby.
It turned out that Bertow and Talman knew each other, if only
in passing. They had both gone to law school together.
"Which is?" said Jane.
"Rochester Law School," said Bertow. "Most of the people here
are from Rochester, you know."
"I didn't," said Jane. So what? What significance did that
have? People were people, regardless of where they went to school.
Jane didn't subscribe to the ivy snobbery that people from one
school were better than another.
"Yeah, you're the only Ivy they've had here, for a long time.
And a woman...." said Talman suggestively.
Jane grew irritated. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's just that, well, you know...."
"I don't, so why don't you spell it out?" Jane snapped. She
could be forgiven for her bad mood, having recently learned that
the firm she thought she was working at had turned into another
firm entirely, and that the department she had been promised a job
in had been awarded to someone else.
"We don't exactly have tons of women in the corporate
department," said Talman, as if he were hinting as something
bigger.
"That's not true," said Bertow. "As a matter of fact, the
corporate department has a senior associate who's on the verge of
making partner."
"Yeah. One. Amanda. But we hardly ever see her," said
Talman.
"You seem remarkably well informed about this firm," Jane
remarked.
"Well, you know, I know some of the alumni who came here,"
said Talman.
Jane changed the subject. "Sam, how did you get an offer in
the litigation department?"
Bertow shrugged. "I just asked for it. Then I got it. Why?"
"Jane's bitchy because she thought she was going to get
litigation," said Talman, giving an irritating grin.
Jane glared at him. "Bart has promised to transfer me into
litigation...."
Talman laughed. "Well, you're a woman, he might."
"What does that mean?" Jane demanded angrily.
"Well... it's well known... that he gets along... very well
with the women associates," said Talman.
"That doesn't make any sense," said Bertow. "If he shows
favoritism towards women, why didn't he put Jane in litigation?"
"Well," said Talman, looking around to see if other members of
the firm were near (none were), "maybe he shows favoritism, but
only when he can get the favors returned, see?"
Jane refused to believe her ears. Mr. Tolcott, a... lecher?
She refused to believe it. He seemed a bit depressed today,
but.... "He seems depressed today," she remarked.
"Today?" Talman laughed. "He's always depressed!"
"Always?"
"That's the way he's always been. He suffers from clinical
depression. Why do you look surprised?"
"It's just that when I interviewed...." Jane stopped, in mid
sentence. Only now was she beginning to realize just how much she
had been had.
Talman and Bertow exchanged glances. It was obvious they were
dining with a rube.
Jane frowned. Another thing had been bothering her. Most of
the lawyers she had met had been white. Especially white males.
"Are there any minorities at the firm?"
Bertow and Talman looked at each other. "Well, we do have a
number of minorities," said Talman, attempting to joke. "But they
all work in the copy room."
"I noticed," said Jane. "But the firm does not have a single
Black, hispanic, or Native attorney?"
"I'm a Native attorney," said Talman. "I was born in New
York." He gave another irritating grin.
Bertow said, "I think the firm used to have one or two black
lawyers-"
"One," Talman chipped in.
"-but that was only while their hiring practices were being
investigated by the EEOC."
"What happened to the black attorney?" Jane wanted to know.
"He subsequently left," said Talman.
"Was encouraged to leave," corrected Bertow.
"Really?" said Talman.
Bertow nodded. "But you know, the firm does have one minority
attorney."
"Who?"
"Mr. LaGossi," said Bertow.
"Really?"
"Yeah. He was born in Mexico," said Bertow.
"I thought he was of Italian descent," said Talman.
"He is. His parents came from Italy and spent a few years in
Mexico, where he was born, before moving to the United States. But
the firm lists him on all its disclosure forms as Hispanic, because
he was born in Mexico," said Bertow. "This way the firm can say
that it has a minority partner."
Jane listened in silence. She looked at her watch. It was
1:30. After four hours at this firm, there was nothing that would
surprise her anymore.
But she was wrong. The surprises were only beginning.
Back at the office, Jane and Tim sat at their desks, waiting
for work. Tim was browsing through a copy of the Wall Street
Journal. Jane had borrowed a hammer, and was putting up her
diplomas.
"It's really something what Metatech is doing," said Tim.
"Um," said Jane, not really listening. How had she ever ended
up in such a situation?
"What do you think about that corporate maneuver Metatech
made?" said Tim, looking at her slyly.
"Corporate maneuver?" said Jane. What was he talking about?
She hammered in one of the nails, and hung the diploma up.
"You mean you don't know?" said Tim. "It's been in the paper
for weeks."
Jane shrugged.
"They just did a double stock split," said Tim. "Don't you
read the Journal?"
Jane had to admit that she didn't. She finished hanging the
second diploma.
"Hey, why are you putting those things up?"
"I'm proud of my education. I've worked hard for it," said
Jane simply. Wasn't it normal to put up one's diplomas at work?
Talman walked over and read the diplomas up close.
"Columbia... Summa Cum Laude... Columbia... Magna Cum Laude...
what's the matter, you had to do it twice?"
"One is college, one is law school," said Jane wearily.
"Impressive," said Tim. "But they're all in another language.
I've never seen that. Why aren't they in English?"
"That's Latin," said Jane wearily. "You know, like on your
prescriptions?"
"Oh." Then, a pause. "They should be in English." Talman
suddenly looked pained, as if something internal were making him
feel uncomfortable.
Suddenly Jane thought she heard a small sound. It sounded
like a burp, almost. But not quite.
Since Jane didn't have the Journal, she was stuck reading the
employee's manual for Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi,
Kentrust & Kirch.
Tolcott Teitelbaum is renown for having a small, informal
atmosphere, where everyone is treated as a respected
worker, and we greatly value harmonious relations among
our employees. Lack of respect is not tolerated at our
firm, and we strive to have
Jane looked up. There was an odd smell in the air. It was a
dirty, malodorous smell... she looked around, and suddenly she
heard several small burping sounds, coming from Talman, who was
staring intently at his newspaper. Only they weren't burps, for
his mouth was closed.
Great, she thought. Jane tried to concentrate on the manual,
but the irritating smell permeated the room for some time. She
thought about getting up and going for a short walk around the
offices, but she was afraid she would be spotted and drafted into
menial labor by John Moss, the librarian. She glared at Talman,
but he refused to make eye contact.
A short while later Mr. Kirch came into the office. "Hi," he
said, staring at them both with his large eyes. "I have an
assignment for one of you."
Jane opened her mouth but Talman was quicker. "I'll take it,
I have seniority," he said.
Kirch shrugged. "Come to my office. I need you to draft a
repurchase agreement."
"What about me?" said Jane. She regretted it the instant she
said it. It sounded like she was whining, or begging, and she
wanted to do neither.
"Oh, why don't you see Teitelbaum or Tolcott," said Kirch,
departing.
Picking up a notepad, she went to Teitelbaum's office.
Teitelbaum was the head of the corporate department. He should
have something.
She poked her head into Mr. Teitelbaum's office, found it
empty.
"What are you doing there?" said a grizzled voice behind her.
Jane jumped. A large lady with a stoney glare was right
behind her. "I'm looking for Mr. Teitelbaum."
"Bruce is out to lunch."
Jane looked at her watch. It was 3:30. "Do you expect him
back soon?"
She shrugged, walking away.
Well, that left her with one option: Bart Tolcott. For a
moment Jane considered offering herself to the litigation
department. She remembered the rapport she had enjoyed with Mr.
Ailing during her interview (had that really been a year ago?).
But Bart might be upset if she went behind his back to get
litigation work. Better to go through channels. For now, at
least.
She found Mr. Tolcott in his office, his head resting on his
hands, a pile of documents in his lap. A discarded redweld lay at
his side. Bart looked up at Jane. "Jane," he said emotionlessly.
Maybe he is depressed, Jane thought. But he had seem so
lively when she had first met him. What was really going on here,
she wondered. But she only said, "Hi, I've come looking for work."
Tolcott looked bored. "There's nothing right now."
Jane turned to go, but she had a new thought. "What about the
writing program?"
"Eh?" said Tolcott.
"When does the writing program begin?"
"The writing program?" Tolcott covered his head in his hands.
Then, looking up, he said, "Later. Listen, I think I have an
assignment for you now."
Jane listened attentively, pen in hand.
"I want you to research the... misappropriation of funds in
a...." He mumbled something in a low voice, and then turned back
to his papers.
"What? What was that?" said Jane anxiously. "Whose
misappropriation of funds?" What was he saying? Why wouldn't he
speak up?
Tolcott sighed, looking up again. "Never mind who. Find out
about the misappropriation of funds from a partnership." He looked
back down at his papers again.
Jane started to leave again, and then stopped. "What do you
want me to find out about it?"
Tolcott sighed, only louder this time. "Find out what the
statute of limitations are."
Jane kept thinking. "Under what law?" What body of law would
this be in, Federal? New York? Another state?
"New York law." He wasn't any more helpful than that. Jane
decided that her time was up, and she left.
She immediately headed to the library. Moss was not to be
seen. She knocked on his door.
"Who is it?"
"Jane Sommers," said Jane.
There was a pause, as if he were considering for a moment.
then the door opened. A cloud of smoke emerged. Jane coughed.
"Oh, it's you," said Moss. "The books to be shelved are on
the little cart."
"I'm not here to shelve books," said Jane irritably. "I'm
here to do a research assignment."
Moss shrugged. "Go ahead." Why was she bothering him?
"I'd like a little help," said Jane. "I'm trying to find out
the statute of limitations for misappropriation of partnership
funds under New York law-"
Moss put up his hand to stop her. "Wait. First things first.
What's the client matter number?"
"Client matter number?" Jane hadn't even thought to get that.
"I... I don't know."
"Get the client matter number, then come back," said Moss,
reaching up to close the door. "And don't knock so loudly next
time." The door swung shut.
When Jane returned to Tolcott's office, she found him sitting
in the dark, his eyes closed, his head slumped back on his chair.
"Bart," said Jane, in a small voice.
"What is it?" he droned, without opening his eyes.
"I need to know the client matter number," Jane whispered. She
felt like she was disturbing his sleep.
"99999-99999," said Tolcott. Then, he said, "Dana!"
As Jane left, Bart's secretary walked in. She carried a
writing pad and swayed slowly as she walked, wiggling with every
step. "Oh, I forgot a pen."
"You won't need one," said Bart. "I have something very
important I need for you to do, and I need total concentration.
Close the door." The door slammed shut.
Jane returned to the library, and roused John Moss.
"Oh, it's you again," said Moss. This time he was sitting at
the front desk, reading a magazine.
Jane told him the client matter number.
"Non-billable, eh? Now, what's the question again?"
This was nonbillable? This wasn't for a client? Then
whatever purpose could this serve? Well, an assignment was an
assignment. "I need to know the statute of limitations for the
misappropriation of funds from a partnership."
"A limited or general partnership?"
Jane's mouth hung open. She hadn't realized it made a
difference. Well, time to go back to Bart for another question....
Back downstairs she found Bart's door closed. Dana, the
secretary, must still be in conference with him. Jane started to
knock on the door, her hand poised to knock. Then she stopped,
thought better of it, and returned to the library.
"Well?" said Moss.
"Let's find the answer for both."
They walked over to a shelf of books. "What you want is the
New York Statutes," he said, pointing to several rows.
Moss started to walk away, but Jane said, "Wait! Can you be
a little more specific? There are over twenty volumes here."
Moss glared at her. "Did you really graduate from law
school?" he snickered. He could see already that this girl wasn't
up to par.
"That's right, I just graduated, and I need your assistance,"
said Jane, her eyes narrowing.
Moss chuckled. "You want the partnership volumes, dingbat."
He turned away, still chuckling.
Jane, ignoring the comment, started looking through the
volumes. She spent some time with them, but couldn't see anything
about statutes of limitations. She opened her mouth as if to ask
Moss another question, but then stopped. She would figure it out
herself.
In a short time she did just that. Locating the main index,
she looked up statutes of limitations, found the appropriate volume
(civil procedure, not partnership law), and found the answer
quickly. But then Jane frowned. This statute could have been
modified by caselaw. She turned to the New York digests, and got
down to work.
At around 7 PM Jane looked at her watch. She still had a
large number of cases to sift through. Did Bart want the answer
today? In her hurry to get the assignment, she had neglected to
ask.
Jane returned to Bart's office. He was sitting back in his
chair, smoking a cigar, working on a crossword. She cleared her
throat, and Bart looked up at her.
"I've found the statute, but the cases are taking a longer
time. Do you need this tonight?"
Bart raised his eyebrows. "Who told you to look at cases?"
There was no good answer to that. "Well, I...."
"What did you find in the statute?"
Jane told him. It was a simple, one sentence answer.
"Fine," said Bart. "Tomorrow, do a memo on it." He turned
away.
A memo! A memo, for a one sentence answer? If this wasn't
make-work, Jane didn't know what was.
Her shoulders slumped, Jane collected her jacket and coat, and
went home. She noticed that Talman was already gone.
Jane trudged west, out towards ninth avenue. She had just
moved to a small, dingy third floor studio apartment facing the
street. Jane hadn't felt right about moving into a fancy building,
not when she still had all those student loans to pay off, so she
had elected to go "economy class". The first day she had moved in
she had found mounds of ant bodies in the cupboards. She had
cleaned them out and sprayed the area, but she still had found a
thriving traffic in her sink, on her countertops and even,
occasionally, in the fridge and freezer.
Jane collapsed in bed, more emotionally than physically
drained from the day's events. She was just beginning to think
about calling Denise when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
It was her parents. They wanted to know how her first day had
gone.
Max Sommers was Vice President of North Jersey Savings and
Loan. He was a tall, proud man who felt comfortable in a suit and
tie. He had an avid interest in the business world and all things
financial, and encouraged his only child to do the same. But Jane
was more interested in justice, and helping the disadvantaged, and
more than once they had political arguments on the subject. Often
loud ones. Dad was a hard-right republican while Jane was a
progressive liberal. She just could never understand how he could
turn his back on the needs of the poor and the less fortunate. Her
father had nearly stopped speaking to her when Jane had announced
that she would not go to business school. Law school had been the
grand compromise, but lately it looked as if the grand compromise
was not working out quite so well.
Jane's mother, Matilda Sommers, was a financial analyst for
the Clearwater Savings Bank. It was not entirely surprising that
both parents worked for banking institutions, since they had
initially met each other at a regional banking conference. Mr.
Sommers had often joked to Jane that without the banking system she
would never have existed.
But Mrs. Sommers was more tolerant of Jane's interests. She
empathized more with her daughter, and was not quite as
disappointed when Jane decided to go to law school, and not
business school. She wanted her daughter to succeed, and was
always eager to provide advice, but sometimes, as Jane found, in a
grating and condescending way.
"So how was the first day, dear?" Mrs. Sommers asked.
"Awful!" said Jane, immediately exploding. "I hate my firm!"
"How can this be?" said Mr. Sommers. "Jane, you seemed so
excited about going there."
"First, they put me in the corporate department," said Jane.
"After they promised me litigation, they put me in corporate!"
"In corporate?" said Mr. Sommers. "Jane, don't look a gift
horse in the mouth. You can be a very successful corporate lawyer-
"
"But I don't want to be a corporate lawyer!" said Jane.
"That's not what I came to this firm for. And the people there are
mean!"
"Mean? In what way?"
Jane struggled to put it into words. "The support staff are
abusive and abrasive. The firm has almost no minorities, no women,
and Mr. Tolcott is clinically depressed. I'm expected to be an
assistant librarian-"
"What?" said Mr. Sommers.
"-and I hate this place so much! I wish I could just quit."
"Now, now," said Mr. Sommers. "You're just not giving it a
chance. It's only been one day. Now, if you tell yourself that
you hate it, you will hate it. You have to keep an open mind."
"Open mind? Dad, the place is awful!" said Jane.
"Listen, dear, you have to learn how to get ahead there. This
Mr. Teitelbaum you've told us of. He's the head of your
department. He can help you," said Mrs. Sommers.
"How?" said Jane.
"You have to talk to him, cultivate him. Make him your men-
tor." Mrs. Sommers said the word with a strong stress on the
second syllable. "I've read books on the corporate culture. If
you have a men-tor, you can get ahead quickly."
"Uh huh," said Jane, now thoroughly depressed.
She made some small talk with her parents and then hung up a
few minutes later, feeling drained. Jane changed out of her old
clothes and made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She
opened the silverware drawer to get a knife to spread the peanut
butter when she saw little ants crawling all over.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Jane wanted
to cry.
The next day Jane got in bright and early, eager to dash off
that memo for Bart and to move on to a new and challenging
assignment. But when she got to her desk she realized something
that she hadn't noticed the day before.
She had no computer. How was she to word process her work
without a computer?
Jane walked around the other offices, which were largely empty
because of the earliness of the hour. In fact, none of the other
associates had computers. Besides the secretaries, only the
partners had computers!
She was just realizing this when she almost bumped into
Kenneth.
"Oh, hello Jane," said Kenneth. "My, you're in early."
"I'm here to get a quick start on a memo," said Jane. "But I
just realized I don't have a computer."
"Yes, the firm felt that computers would only clutter up the
already small work space allotted to the associates," said Kenneth.
"The partners have computers, but truthfully most of them don't
know how to use them, and they just gather dust."
"But what am I to do?"
"You?" Kenneth chuckled. "My dear, you have the luxury of
having a secretary to do your work. Just write it out on paper,
and give it to Vic. He's a great typist."
"Uh huh," said Jane. She returned to her office, her
shoulders slumped. She started writing on a legal pad. By the
time she was done, the secretaries had arrived in the office, along
with the rest of the staff.
"Whatcha doing?" said Talman, alarmed that Jane had work.
What was it? Was it better than his? He stood on his toes to get
a better look at the papers on her desk.
"Just a memo," said Jane.
"For whom? On what subject?"
Talman relaxed when he learned the particulars. Jane wasn't
doing any high profile work.
Jane didn't ask how Talman's repurchase agreement was going.
Quite frankly, she didn't care. Jane got up and approached her
secretary. Vic was smoking a small one at his desk. He was
apparently reading from a magazine filled with women's lingerie, if
reading was the right word. He seemed more engrossed by the
pictures, touching parts of them and occasionally moaning stock
phrases such as, "Oooh, I'd like to buy that one for my birthday."
But he had the decency to put the magazine down when Jane
approached.
"Hey babe," said Vic.
"Please call me Jane," said Jane, putting a chill in her
voice.
"Don't sweat it," said Vic. He picked up the magazine again,
and turned a page, puffing furiously.
"Listen, I need a memo typed," said Jane.
"Um?" said Vic.
"Could you type it for me?"
"I'm kinda busy," said Vic.
"Do you think you'll have time to do it?"
"Yeah, dump it here," said Vic, not looking up.
When she returned to her office she found that they had a
visitor, none other than David Kapnick. Mr. Kapnick carried a can
of soda in his hands.
"So, how are the most junior ranks doing today?" he asked.
Talman put his thumbs behind his suspenders, and leaned back
in his chair. He was very short, even sitting down, and so he
always tried to sit straight to maximize his height. Sometimes
Jane caught him putting a cushion under his chair in an attempt to
make himself appear taller. "What's up?"
"Have you got any work yet?"
"Yeah, I'm working with Kirch on this repurchase agreement.
It's a really hot deal," he said, casting a glance at Jane.
"And you?" said Kapnick. He put his soda can on Jane's desk.
"What're you up to, good-looking?"
Jane told him the topic of her memo.
Kapnick, bored, quickly changed the subject. "So are you guys
married?"
He received two negative responses.
"Engaged? Fiancee's?"
Again, two negative responses.
"So, when's the last time you've gone on a date?" said
Kapnick. He had mysteriously produced a piece of cake out of
nowhere, and was now munching it avidly.
"Why... why, last week," said Talman, a bit cocky.
"Really? Did you get any?"
"Well, you know-"
"Errrrr!" said Kapnick, imitating a buzzer. "Sorry, you've
just made it into the virgin's semifinals. What about you, Jane?"
"What about me?" said Jane.
"When was the last date that you were on?"
"I don't think that's any of your business," said Jane softly.
Who was this clown to be asking her these questions?
"It means you haven't gotten any in a while," he smirked.
"What about you?" said Talman challengingly.
"Me? Happily married, three years. I get it any time I want
to," said Kapnick. "But we were talking about Jane. Jane, have
you ever been out on a date?"
"Of course!" said Jane quickly, despite her vow not to answer
any of these idiotic questions.
"Have you ever had a steady boyfriend?"
"Of course," said Jane. Where was this leading to? Why was
he asking all these noisy questions?
"So Jane... when was the last time you've... gotten involved
with a fellow?"
"None of your business," said Jane hotly.
"That long, hm? Well, don't worry, we'll see what we can't do
to get you a piece of the action." Whistling a soft tune, he left
the room.
"Is he always like that?" said Jane.
"He likes to needle people," said Talman.
Jane looked down on her desk. She saw a half eaten piece of
cake, and a half finished coke can. "What about this?"
"Oh, he always does that. That's how he marks his territory."
Jane swept the food into the garbage. "I am not his
territory."
After a short while Jane got up. She went over to her
secretary's desk.
"Here it is, Babe," said Vic.
"My name is Jane, or Ms. Sommers," said Jane acidly.
"Oh ho ho! Forgive me, your highness," said Vic. He made a
mock bow while seated in his chair.
Jane took the memo back to her office. She reviewed it
carefully. Of the seventy two words in the memo, twenty one had
typographical errors. Circling the errors, she returned the memo
to Vic. "Please fix these errors."
Vic glared at her, but said nothing.
When she returned to her office she saw that Talman was
putting up his diplomas. First went his University of Rochester
diploma. Then went his law degree.
"The New Law School," said Jane. "Is that from around here?"
Talman looked hurt. "Don't pretend like you've never heard of
it. Everyone gets their catalog. It's right here in Manhattan.
Don't be a snob."
"Sorry," said Jane. She hadn't meant anything by it.
But then Talman put up another diploma. It read
This Certifies that
Timothy Amherst Talman
is a recipient of the Gilbert's student award
for high academic achievement in the study of law
Jane, sensing that Talman was overly defensive about his past
education, wasn't going to say anything, but he caught her spying
his award.
"I was a Gilbert's scholar," he said proudly.
"I see," said Jane.
"High academic achievement. That's what it says," said
Talman, casting a glance at her diplomas.
"Eh, it just means that he got two A-'s in one year. Two
thirds of all New Law graduates have them," said Kapnick, who had
quietly returned.
"You think those two A-'s were easy?" said Talman, his face
reddening.
"Um hum," said Kapnick. "With half the class getting A's and
A-'s, only a diseased sea monkey couldn't get two A-'s in two
semesters." And just as suddenly, he walked out.
Talman glared after him, and then turned his gaze on her.
"It's quite nice.... really," said Jane, for loss of what else
to say.
Suddenly she looked at her desk. There was another coke can
there. How had that gotten there?
Jane returned to her secretary, who handed her the fixed memo.
Jane quickly looked it over. Eighteen of the twenty one errors had
been corrected, which wasn't bad, but four of those which had been
fixed were still wrong. And two new words were misspelled. How
had that happened?
She handed the memo back to Vic. "Listen, could you-"
"I'm tired of seeing this fucking memo!" he roared. He
crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into her face. "Fix it
yourself, bitch."
Jane contained her rage. She picked the memo off the floor,
and walked away.
Who should she turn to? Mr. Teitelbaum, the head of the
department? That would be the logical solution.
Jane made her way to Teitelbaum's office. She peeked her head
in to find his secretary there. "What do you want?"
"Is Mr. Teitelbaum around?" said Jane.
"He's out eating," said his secretary.
Jane looked at her watch. It was 10:30. "Lunch?"
"A late breakfast, if you must know."
Jane sighed. Who could she talk to? Mr. Tolcott? Immediately
she vetoed the idea. The man was a basket case. Who else?
Kenneth. Jon Kenneth. In addition to being the recruitment
coordinator, he was also the office administrator, wasn't he? He
would be able to help.
Jane went to his office, gently tapping on his door. Kenneth
was on the phone, but he nodded for her to come in. When he got
off he said, "Jane. What can I do for you?"
"It's my secretary," said Jane. "He refuses to do my work."
Her voice cracking, she said, "He threw a paper in my face, and he
called me a bitch."
"Whoa! Let me get to the bottom of this," said Kenneth.
"I'll talk to Vic immediately."
"Thank you," said Jane sincerely.
"I'll call you back later today. We'll get this thing ironed
out."
Ironed out? All Jane wanted was a new secretary. But she
nodded dumbly and left the office. In the meantime she still had
to finish that memo. What could she do?
Jane walked around the secretarial stations. A number of
secretaries were sitting about, chatting to themselves.
"Hi," said Jane, putting on her best smile.
The secretaries stopped talking and looked at her like she was
some sort of alien. "Yeah?" said one of them.
"I'm Jane Sommers, one of the new associates. I was wondering
if one of you could help me, I need this document corrected-"
"Why don't you have your secretary do it, hon?" said one of
them, chewing on some gum.
"He's, ah, occupied at the moment-"
"Wait for him to become unoccupied. We're busy."
They glared at Jane and she felt their stares on her back,
even as she slowly walked away.
All right, she thought, then I'll have to do it myself. She
looked around for an empty terminal. Finally she noticed that one
secretary's desk was empty. Cautiously Jane sat down at the
terminal.
"And what do you think you're doing?"
Jane looked up to see the secretary who sat across the way.
"I'm just... borrowing this terminal-"
"This here's Daisy's terminal," said the secretary.
"Is Daisy here, maybe I could ask her-"
"Daisy is out today. But she's real particular about who
touches her terminal, see what I mean?"
Jane was beginning to. Slowly nodding, she got up. She would
have to wait until Kenneth assigned her a new sec... wait a minute!
There were computers in the library!
In moments Jane was sitting down at one of the terminals. She
steeled herself to ignore the fact that the keyboard was all gummy
and blackened with dirt, and the old orange and white screen
flickered mightily. It was a terminal, and it worked! She
immediately punched up WordPerfect, putting her redweld on the
floor as she waited for the image on the screen to reappear.
"What are you doing here?"
Jane looked up to see Moss. "Using this terminal."
"This terminal is dedicated for LEXIS and WESTLAW research,
not wordprocessing." LEXIS and WESTLAW were the online legal
databases that all law firms had access to.
"Then why do you have wordperfect on the hard drive?" Jane
asked.
Moss considered. "Um... that's a superfluous program."
"Listen," said Jane, getting a little hot under the collar.
"I need to use a computer. Nobody is using this computer right now
for LEXIS or WESTLAW. If anybody wants to use it, I will leave,
ok?"
"All right," said Moss grudgingly. "But tell me this: how
come every time I see you in the library you're always here to do
legal work? When are you going to come and work for me? You're
supposed to help out, you know."
"Later," said Jane, ignoring him. Maybe he would go away.
He did, and Jane was left in peace. Fortunately she was
familiar with WordPerfect. Thank goodness she didn't have to ask
anyone a question.
An hour later, Jane was done. She had thought it would have
taken no time at all to retrieve and fix the document from the
firm's networked system, but once she had made the minor
corrections that were necessary to fix the memo she realized that
she needed to print out the document on letterhead, which was
official firm stationery. So she went searching for letterhead
paper, but the secretaries, already leery of the new associate,
were of no help.
"Can't anyone of you tell me where to find letterhead?" said
Jane.
The secretaries were sullenly silent, but one of them
inadvertently betrayed the information with her eyes, abruptly
glancing about to the left. Jane quickly went and found the
letterhead, and loaded it into the printer.
When she returned to the computer, however, she found that
Moss had just finished signing her off. "What?" she said
incredulously.
"You left the computer in WordPerfect mode," said Moss. "You
should always sign off when you leave. How was I to know when you
were coming back?"
Jane sighed, and returned to WordPerfect and retrieved the
document again. Then, ready to print, she sent the document to the
printer.
When she reached the printer a secretary yelled at her, "Are
you the idiot who put letterhead in the printer without telling
anyone?" She held up the first page of a document that was
printing out (inappropriately) on letterhead.
Jane didn't answer her, but merely retrieved another piece of
letterhead, moved to an empty printed, loaded it in, and announced,
"I am printing letterhead on this printer." She was met with the
taciturnity of hostile stares, so Jane quickly raced back to the
computer before Moss could sign her off again.
Moss hadn't made the rounds again, so Jane set the document to
print again, being careful to send it to the different printer.
When Jane returned to the printer, she found the memo, already
printed out. She looked at it, slowly nodding her approval. And
then she stopped.
None of the changes she had made was registered in this
document. How could this be?
Jane immediately figured it out. When Moss had exited
WordPerfect, he had neglected to save her document.
Jane logged on again, fixed her document, and then she
prepared to print, and then... she stopped. Jane walked out to the
printer, loaded it with letterhead, went back, and printed the
document.
When she returned to the printer, she saw a flashing sign on
the notice panel.
PRINTER JAMMED
Jane sighed. She must be strong, she told herself.
A half hour later, Jane triumphantly descended the stairs back
to her floor. She made her way to Bart's office, carrying her
memo. By her estimates she had spent almost as much time producing
the memo as performing the research, and certainly more time
printing it out than simply writing it.
Jane approached Bart's office slowly. Suddenly she heard
Dana, his secretary, yell, "Baaaawwwwt!", and the hairs on the back
of Jane's neck stood up on ends.
Then she heard the monotone voice. "Yes."
"Your wife on the phone."
Bart was in his office, looking bored as he worked on a
crossword puzzle. "Thanks," he said, sounding uninterested.
Then, "Jane."
Jane turned around.
"You printed this on letterhead."
"Yes?" said Jane.
"This is the letterhead for opinions," said Bart. "Not the
letterhead for memo's."
"What's the difference?"
"The letterhead for opinions has the name of all the partners.
Memo letterhead only has the Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi,
Kentrust & Kirch name on it," he said, all in one breath.
"Do you want me to fix it?"
"Never mind," Bart sighed. He put his head in his hands.
Jane, feeling very inadequate, walked away. She went to the
kitchen. Maybe she could get a cup of water there.
She found Ivanova, the kitchen lady, cleaning a mop in the
sink. Jane, peering over, also saw a number of cups and plates in
the sink. She was washing both at the same time! Jane looked at
the long, blackened mop strands brushing against the firm's cheap
plastic plates. Blackened dirt and small roach bodies mingled with
the firm's kitchenware. The same kitchenware that people ate off
of!
"Whatsa matter? What you looking at?" Ivanova demanded.
"Oh, nothing," said Jane, feigning cheerfulness.
"You come to my kitchen, you not be standing around. You
come, you eat, you go. You see?"
"I see," said Jane, resignedly. When she got back to her
office, she found she had a message from Kenneth. Good. At least
one mess would get cleaned up today.
She went to Kenneth's office.
"Ah, Jane, sit down," said Kenneth. He paused a moment, and
then said, "I had a chance to talk to Vic."
"Good," said Jane. "When do I get my new secretary?"
Kenneth put up a finger. "Not so quick. Vic has a number of
grievances against you."
"Against me?" Jane was flabbergasted. What could he possibly
be talking about?
"He said that you were impatient, and demanded that he redo
the same document, over and over." He looked sternly at Jane, as
if she were a small child who had been willfully disobedient.
At first Jane was at a loss for words. Then she said, "But...
the document had many errors."
"Jane, you have to realize that no one's perfect," said
Kenneth. "You probably make mistakes too."
"Of course," Jane sputtered. "But am I supposed to turn in
documents with twenty spelling errors?"
"Let's not exaggerate." Kenneth waggled a finger at her.
"Vic has a problem with your attitude."
"My attitude? What is he talking about?"
"You see? There it is. The self-assurance. The cockiness.
The polite arrogance."
"The polite arrogance?" said Jane.
"Yes," said Kenneth. "By being overly polite, you convey an
impression of condescension."
Jane shook her head. This was getting confusing. "Listen, I
just want a new secretary."
"I don't think we're ready for that yet."
"Huh? I am!" Jane never had any doubt that this was the only
solution.
"You're only in your second day here. I can't change your
secretary every day. I want you to try to work it out with Vic."
"The man is incompetent," said Jane. "Worse than that, he's
a sexist. He called me-"
"We've all said things in the heat of the moment that we
didn't mean," said Kenneth. "Now, I've told Vic that you were
going to try to get along better with him. From what I've heard he
gives Mr. Kirch flawless service. If you don't want to have a
reputation of being someone who's difficult to get along with, I
suggest you try to work with him."
Jane opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.
"Is this your final word on the subject?"
Kenneth put an arm on her shoulder, guiding her to the door.
"Let's just try to get through one day at a time, shall we?" He
gently closed the door behind her.
Jane stood in the hallway, unsure what she should do. In a
bit of a daze, she wandered around the halls, deep in thought.
Then she heard a sound. "Hey!"
Jane looked about. Sam Bertow was calling her. She had just
happened to walk by his office.
"What's happening?" he said, smiling to her.
Somewhat hesitantly, she entered his office. Before she knew
what had happened she found herself explaining the incident with
Vic, how she was so upset about it, and how nothing had been
resolved. In fact, the situation was now worse.
Bertow listened dispassionately. Finally, when she was done,
he said, "I think I see your problem."
"You do?" Finally, someone who understood!
"You have a persecution complex."
"What?" Another moron. Jane knew she shouldn't have said
anything.
"You're saying it's all Kenneth's fault, all Vic's fault. But
what about your actions? What about your fault?"
"You're saying that it's all my fault?" Jane was incredulous.
Bertow held up a restraining hand. "No, my point is the
opposite, that it's never entirely one person's fault. Vic, I'm
sure, is largely at fault. But you have to share the blame too."
"Why?"
"What did you do to precipitate his response?"
"What did I do?" Jane frowned, trying to answer the question.
She thought for a moment. "Well, I was born a woman."
"What does that mean?"
"He's a sexist pig! He does good work for Kirch, the male
partner, but treats me like dirt because I'm just a junior woman."
Bertow frowned. "I hope you're wrong. I wouldn't like to
think that anyone at this firm is a sexist."
"Yeah, he would have called anyone a bitch, even a guy." Jane
shook her head wearily. It was going to be another one of those
days.
Back at her office, Jane looked about for a pen. She couldn't
find one, so tried to look through her drawers. When she reached
her center drawer, she gave it a mighty tug, but it wouldn't budge.
Jane frowned. The maintenance people had promised that they would
have it fixed by this morning. Jane looked at her watch. It was
nearly one o'clock now. Time for lunch.
Talman was already gone. She went out, bought a quick lunch
on the street, and brought it back to the office. Then Jane
realized she had nothing to eat it on. She needed a plate.
Jane went to the kitchen. A number of attorneys were eating
their lunch, but Jane, feeling very new, didn't make eye contact.
She just looked for something that she could use as a plate. Maybe
some napkins, in the drawers? She started opening up some of the
kitchen drawers.
"What you looking for?" said Ivanova, who had silently waddled
over behind Jane.
"Something to use as a plate," said Jane, before she realized
what she was saying.
Ivanova opened one of the cabinets, where the hard plastic
plates were stored. "You use one of these. Is very good."
Jane opened another drawer. Paper plates! She was saved.
"Um, that's ok. I'll use one of these." She grabbed one, quickly
scooting away.
Shortly after lunch David Kapnick appeared, poking his head
into the door. "Anyone home?" he said, knocking facetiously. In
his other hand he held a can of Coke. A trademark pose.
"Tim's still out at lunch," said Jane. She was busy
struggling with her center drawer. The maintenance people had told
her that they had come and fixed it again, but it still wouldn't
budge. Maybe they needed to come fix it a third time.
"I've come to see you, Miss Smarty Pants," said Kapnick. "I
hear that you're available for work. We need a skilled junior
associate for a major project."
"Major project?" said Jane eagerly. Maybe things were
looking up.
"We're putting together a prospectus for filing with the SEC.
The Weaver Corporation is issuing a new series of securities. Are
you interested?"
"Sure am!" said Jane. Two days ago she would have scoffed at
the idea of doing corporate work. But any work was better than
sitting around and doing nothing. And this did sound like a major
project. "Where do I fit in?"
"Oh, we'll have you working on the prospectus, of course,"
said Kapnick. He took a brief drink of Coke, and then put the can
down on her desk.
"But I don't know anything about-"
"You learn on the job," said Kapnick.
"What about the training program?" Jane asked. Shouldn't she
be in training for this first?
Kapnick looked confused. "What training program?"
"You know, the writing program. The one that's in all your
brochures."
Kapnick bit his lip, withholding a belly laugh. Keeping a
straight face, he said, "Um, there's been some modification in the,
ah, writing program. We're trying out a new philosophy, 'learning
by doing'."
Jane sighed. Another deception. She felt like such a fool.
Now she understood why Denise had wept when she turned down
Sullivan & Cromwell. "When do we begin?"
"I'll let you know. I'll be back in a little while." And he
walked out of her office.
Jane looked at her watch. It was 2 PM. And then she looked
down at her desk. Kapnick had left his Coke can. Sighing, she
discarded it.
One hour passed, and then two. Talman sat at his desk, busy
drafting his repurchase agreement. Every so often he would look up
and leer at Jane, as if to sneer "You have no work, but I do."
Finally by 4:30 she had had enough. Jane got up and began the
search for David Kapnick.
She passed by Bart's office, just as one of the senior
associates, Amanda Warwick, marching into his office, let go with
a shrilling sound "Baaaawwwwwt!" Jane ignored it, but kept onwards
towards a direct path to Kapnick's office.
Kapnick was sitting in his office, drinking another Coke and
eating a piece of cake. Jane couldn't help but notice that the
young mid-level associate was already starting to develop a
partner-sized gut.
"What's up, good looking?" said Kapnick.
Jane glared at him. What right did he have to talk to her in
that way? But she let it slide off her back, for now. "You said
that you were going to come back-"
"Oh yeah. Dick hasn't made up his mind yet-"
"Dick?"
"Dick Brant, the partner in charge of the project. He hasn't
made up his mind yet what he wants to do," said Kapnick, chewing on
the cake as he talked.
Jane looked at his watch. "Are we going to be doing anything
today?"
"Don't know," said Kapnick. "Just hang on and wait." He
brought a pile of cookies into view. "Would you like one?"
Jane shook her head.
Kapnick opened a drawer. "How about a piece of cake? Some
candy? I have a platterful."
"I'm sure you do." Jane went back to her office.
"You look kind of dejected," said Talman, with mock sympathy.
"What's wrong, no work yet?"
"I'm on a project, but I don't know when it's going to start,"
said Jane.
"A project? With whom?" said Talman, instantly alert.
"Kapnick," said Jane. The jolly fat man.
"And who else?" said Talman.
"Dick Brant," said Jane. "You know anything about him?"
"What's the project?" said Talman, ignoring the question. He
seemed very interested now.
"We're doing some sort of issuance of securities-"
"A prospectus? You're working on a prospectus?" Suddenly
Talman's blood pressure doubled. He stood up, and started bouncing
on his toes, something he did when he was worried about his height.
Or anything else.
Jane nodded in response to his question.
"What's the client?"
"Whoa, take it easy," said Jane, a little put off by his
intensity. "It's just an assignment."
"I'm just interested, that's all," said Talman. "You working
with Dick Brant, and all." He looked slyly at her, calculatingly.
"What's special about Dick Brant?" Jane asked.
"He's one of our big securities guys," said Talman. "Very
impressive." How come Jane got to work with Dick Brant, when he
didn't?
"Um. If only the work would begin."
Talman looked up at her, a little bit of panic in his eyes.
And then they both heard a small lurching sound, coming from
Talman's side of the room.
Jane sighed as the familiar but noxious odor started to fill
the room. There was really no polite way to tell Talman to try to
control his gaseous emissions, but this was getting to be a little
much, even on the second day. Every time Talman became a little
nervous, or even felt slightly threatened by Jane in any way, he
would go pppffft! And Jane would have to suffer through the smell
for the following hour.
She pondered how to deal with this particular dilemma for the
next few minutes, as the smell delicately wafted across the room.
The darkest odoriferous dregs of Talman's alimentary canal filled
her lungs with every breath, working their way into her
bloodstream.
After several hours had passed Talman yawned, gathering up his
papers and coat. "Still waiting?" he said snidely.
Jane said nothing. She looked at her watch. It was nearly 7
PM. What was happening? She had heard no word from Kapnick. Jane
got up and quickly headed for Kapnick's office.
The light in his office was off. And his coat was gone. Jane
searched out and quickly found the office with the name DICK Brant
stamped on the outside. This was empty and dark, too.
Jane trudged home, her mind full of violent thoughts.
"I hate it! I hate it, I hate it, I cannot begin to tell you
how much I positively despise that place!" Jane shouted into the
phone.
"Take it easy," said Denise, on the other end of the phone.
"You're speaking so loud, that it sounds like you're in the room
with me. Now, what happened?"
Jane explained, from the beginning, how she had been promised
litigation, but had been shunted into corporate, how she had been
abused first by her secretary and then Kenneth, how she was
expected to work in the library, how Mr. Teitelbaum, the head of
the department, was always out, and how Mr. Tolcott seemed to be
clinically depressed.
"Denise, I cannot begin to describe what a stifling,
repressive atmosphere that place is. I want out!"
Denise was incredulous when she heard the details. "You
actually have to work for the librarian? And they didn't give you
the work they promised you?"
"And they're sexist, all of them! My secretary calls me a
bitch, Kapnick calls me a babe, and all the men get the good work.
For some reason they found room to put Sam Bertow in litigation,
but not me. And while I sit around waiting for work, Tim Talman
got work on the very first day." Jane grit her teeth as she
recounted the last.
"And you think it's all because you're a woman?"
"It sure looks that way, doesn't it? Denise, I want to leave
at once."
"Hold on," said Denise. "I admit, your firm doesn't sound
like peaches and cream. But you can't simply just leave."
"Why not?"
"You've only been working there for two days. How's it going
to look to a potential employer that you've only been working at
your current job for less than a week? What's that going to show
about you?"
"About me?"
"Sure, a new employer won't know about your firm. He'll think
you'll have problems adjusting. Maybe you'd quit your next job
after two days. No, Janie, you have to wait." Denise was the
voice of calm and reason.
But Jane was neither calm nor reasonable. "You want me to
wait! How long must I wait?" For Jane a wait, any wait, was much
too long. Each day at the firm was filled with torment and
indignity.
"Traditionally people don't switch before being out a year, so
I hear," said Denise.
"A year! I can't stand being at this place for a week!"
Jane's eyes suddenly focused on the far wall of her apartment. A
small colony of termites were nesting on one of her shelves.
Denise put some force in her tone. "Hold it. For a few
months, at least. If things are still this bad in the late spring,
then we'll start looking. But doing anything sooner would only be
counterproductive. Even if you wanted to switch, I don't think you
could. So just grit your teeth and bear it."
"I already am," said Jane, grinding her molars together.
"Grrr."
The next morning Jane slowly took off her coat and put it on
the associate hook on the back of the door to her office. It was
an associate's hook because it was smaller than the hook on the
back of the doors of each one of the partner's office. The big
ones were the partner hooks, but Jane wouldn't rate that, not as a
mere associate at Tolcott Teitelbaum.
Then she turned around, exchanging greetings with Talman, who
was already there, munching on a quick breakfast. Jane slowly
moved to her handbag as she listened to Talman going "gulp gulp
gulp" as he swallowed his little cup of juice. He slurped and
chomped so loudly that mornings always sounded like feeding hour at
the zoo.
Jane removed a small can from her bag, and put it on the edge
of her desk, not hard, but loud enough to get Talman's attention.
The sound did get his attention, and he looked up at the can, which
glinted in the artificial light of the office's long fluorescent
bulbs. He quickly blushed, then looked away.
It was a can of air freshener.
After checking her phone for messages (there were none) she
went to Kapnick's office. Kapnick was munching on a large bagel.
"Umm, there you are," he said, talking as he chewed. Kapnick, like
Talman, made slobbering noises when he chewed food, but unlike
Talman, Kapnick kept his mouth wide open when eating, permitting
Jane an uninterrupted view of his oral cavity.
Kapnick had seemed to be looking for her. "I was looking for
you," said Jane. "You left yesterday without mentioning whether
there was any work to be done."
"Um, sorry about that, I forgot," said Kapnick. He put his
bagel down and absentmindedly commenced an impromptu inventory of
his left ear with his index finger. "We are going to be working
today, though."
"Fine, let's begin." Jane was eager to get to work; perhaps
when she was immersed in legal details, she would not notice so
much the horrors of her work environment.
"But probably later in the afternoon. Dick still hasn't made
up his mind how he wants to do the deal." Kapnick removed the
finger from his ear, sniffed it, shrugged, and returned to his
eating.
"Wait. You just told me how Dick wants to do the deal?" said
Jane, confused. "Isn't that the client's responsibility?"
"Well, yes, but Dick has to put the wording together. He's
very meticulous, he doesn't like to rush things. But I know we're
going to be working today because we have to go to the printers by
Thursday, and with today being Tuesday we really have to get our
act together. So I'll be in touch."
It sounded like there wouldn't be any work until the mid-
afternoon. It was a good thing that Jane had decided to check with
Kapnick; she knew that Kapnick rarely felt any sense of urgency
when it came to keeping her informed.
Jane decided to go around and scrounge for work. Who to go to
first? Or rather, who would she least like to avoid working for?
It was a tough choice. Wandering about, almost at random, Jane
made a stop at Mr. Teitelbaum's office. Mr. Teitelbaum was
actually in, for once; or, to be precisely accurate, he was on his
way out. He had his coat on, and was rummaging in his closet for
something.
"Mr. Teitelbaum?" said Jane. Most partners were on a first
name basis, but she got the feeling it was a little different with
Mr. Teitelbaum. Mr. Teitelbaum was Mr. Teitelbaum and no one but
no one under 35 called him Bruce.
Teitelbaum looked up. "Oh, Jane! Hello, ho ho ho!" he
boomed, his belly vibrating slightly. "Now where did I put these?"
He turned back to the closet.
"Where're you going?" Jane asked. Maybe it was for a business
meeting. Maybe he would take her with him.
"I have to meet a client," said Teitelbaum. "Ah... here they
are." He emerged from the closet with a set of clubs. "Almost
thought I lost these."
"Mr. Teitelbaum-"
"No time, Jane," he said, before she had finished the third
syllable. He walked by her, actually patting her on the head on
the way out like he would a good pet. "I hate this constant
schmoozing with the clients, but the burden's always on my back to
keep the money flowing into the firm so we can keep up the salaries
for young squirts like you. Ho ho." He walked out the door.
Jane was at a loss for a moment. Evidently her audience was
over. Frowning, she made her way to Bart's office. Dana was not
at her desk; perhaps she was making herself look beautiful in the
ladies room.
Bart was sitting at his desk, staring into space. "Jane," he
said dully, not even looking at her.
"Hi Bart," said Jane nervously. "I've come to see if there's
any work to be done."
A weary set of eyes focused on her. "I thought you were
helping Dick Brant with the Weaver offering."
"I am, but I have a few hours of downtime."
Bart looked out the window, and offered no answer. It seemed
to be an effort for him to do anything, to say anything, to do
anything, to feel anything. It was almost as if the practice of
law had sucked the life energy from Bart's bones.
They both watched for a minute as a small bird nested on the
ledge outside the window. It pecked about, moving a leaf here,
then there. Here, then there. Here... then there.
Finally Bart turned back, and still seeing Jane there,
realized she wanted something. Thinking back to their discussion,
he finally said, "I'll tell you if anything comes up."
"Swell," said Jane, leaving. Would she be like that after
practicing law for 20 years? Or had Bart always been mentally ill?
Jane left his office, feeling she would never know a definitive
answer.
Where to go now? Jane immediately made up her mind to go
upstairs to the litigation department. Maybe Mr. Ailing would have
some work for her.
She found Mr. Ailing at his computer console, yelling,
"Wahoo!"
Jane tentatively peered over his shoulder. An image of a
golfer was lining up to swing a club.
"I went 200 yards that time," Ailing beamed. Without looking
up he said, "Jane! How's it going?"
"Ok," said Jane. "How are you doing, Mr. Ailing?"
"David," said Ailing. "David to my friends. What's up?"
"Not much," said Jane. "I was just wondering if there was
anything I can do to help."
Ailing paused for a moment. "I don't think so," he said,
fiddling with his mouse. "But how much do you know about golf?"
The computer golfer swung again, and the ball sped across the
green. "Yes!" Ailing yelled.
"I was thinking more about the law," said Jane.
"Law? What about it?" said Ailing, lining up the mouse for
his next swing.
"If there was any litigation work I could help with," said
Jane, trying to be persistent.
"Sure! There's tons of it," said Ailing.
"Really?" said Jane. Bart had told her there was a shortage
of litigation work. That was supposedly the reason why he had
stuck her in the corporate department.
"Yeah. We can really use your help," said Ailing. He hit the
ball again. This time it landed on the green. "Time for the
putter!"
"So what can I do now?" Jane asked.
"Now?" said Ailing, looking up for the first time. "Nothing
right now. I'll give you a call, Jane. Really, I will."
"Thanks," said Jane gratefully, making a slow exit. Well, she
had made some progress, at least.
But Jane was so wrapped up in her thoughts as she walked by
the library on the way back to her office she didn't even notice
that she was under the watchful glare of the chief librarian.
"Halt!" said Moss, jumping from behind his desk, as if spring
an ambush. He saw some cheap labor in his sights and wasn't about
to let it go. "Jane, are you working right now?"
"Well... I'm on a project...." said Jane vaguely.
Moss immediately cut through her deception. "Good! That
sounds like you have no immediate deadline. I need your help
shelving books."
"Now, wait a minute-"
"Didn't Bart tell you this was your job? Shall we go to Bart
and talk about it?" Moss knew how to apply the pressure.
Jane shook her head. "I can help you. But only for a little
while."
Moss grinned. He had her now. "None of your lip, young lady.
Just get down on your knees and shelve those books."
John Moss, overburdened librarian, proceeded to sit at his
desk, coolly smoking a cigarette, supervising Jane at work.
"No, no, that's an F. Second, not an F. Supp. Are you blind,
girl? And that other volume goes in the reference collection.
Can't you read the lettering on the side?"
Jane turned around to face her supervisor. "You say you're
shorthanded. Aren't you going to help?"
Moss leaned back in his chair, folding his arms triumphantly.
"What do you think I'm doing now?"
Jane continued to shelve the books under Moss's watchful
tutelage, ever encouraged by his helpful comments and constructive
criticisms. "No, no, you've got to put them in the proper order.
Can't you do this any faster? It's going to be time for my lunch
break soon."
Jane turned around. "I've been shelving heavy books for over
an hour. My arms are getting tired."
Moss imitated a girl's voice. "My arms are getting tired,
I've been working an hour." Resuming his normal tone, he said,
"Get with it, lady. I have to shelve books all day."
"I'm a lawyer! Why do I have to shelve books?"
"It helps you learn about the resources available in the
library," said Moss, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Think of it
as part of the training program," he said, smirking broadly.
Evidently, tales of Jane's gullibility had been spreading around
the firm. It was a good thing the firm had acquired this meek
girl; Moss had a lot of menial tasks in the library that needed to
get done.
Jane continued to shelve books. But there were piles and
piles to sort through. Evidently the books had not been shelved
for days. What had Moss been doing all that time? Smoking and
reading his magazines, probably. Finally she looked at her watch
and stopped.
"Hey, nobody gave you permission to stop," said Moss.
"I did," said Jane. "I've been working for two hours
straight. Enough is enough."
"Listen, girl, enough is enough when I say it is!" thundered
Moss. "Now get back down on your skirts and get back to work!"
Who was this menial girl to be giving him orders?
Jane dropped the book she was holding. It fell to the ground
with a clatter.
"Hey, we got that at a foreclosure sale, but we paid good
money for that book!" Moss protested.
Jane slowly advanced on Moss, until she was almost touching
his chair. Moss, not overtly impressed, just sat there, his arms
folded.
"I've just finished the training program," said Jane softly.
"If you want further help today, I suggest you call on my roommate.
And if you ever address me as "girl" again I will complain to the
partners and do everything in my power to get you fired." And with
that she started to walk out.
Moss laughed after her. "Power? Lady, you ain't got no
power! You're just the junior girl! I'll still be here shelving
books when you get fired, and dumped on the street."
Jane did an about face. "You mean, when I'm practicing law at
another firm you'll still be here shelving books," she corrected.
Moss's face fell flat. He didn't have a ready response for
that.
Jane left, and as soon as she got out of sight of him she
found herself trembling little bit. But a great part of her felt
good. She had fought back. It was an exhilarating feeling.
The feeling was shortlived. Jane sat at her desk for the
better part of the day, not doing very much of anything. The piles
of paper on Talman's desk seemed to grow. He, at least, was
getting work. Finally late in the afternoon David Kapnick stopped
by.
"Jane, there you are," he said. "We're getting to work soon,"
said Kapnick.
Jane looked at her watch. It was nearly 4 PM. "When?"
"Another hour. I'll come by for you."
"Please do t |