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 that," said Jane. "Please don't forget."
"I won't," said Kapnick, walking out.
"What was that all about?" said Talman, suddenly looking
nervous.
"We're getting set to work on the prospectus," said Jane.
"We? You're going to be working on the prospectus too?"
Talman suddenly looked at his own work as if it was all second hand
junk. Evidently whatever assignments he was receiving didn't stack
up to working on a prospectus. How had Jane suddenly leapfrogged
ahead of him. Suddenly his insecurity closed down on himself like
a tight vise.
"I've been told that I'm going to be working on the
prospectus," said Jane, unaware of Talman's inner panic as she put
away a redweld. "I think I might have mentioned it to you before."
"That's funny," said Talman, as if it were news to him.
"What're they doing having a first year associate working on a
prospectus?"
"Practicing law?" Jane suggested.
Talman suddenly looked uncomfortable. Jane was getting good
work, better than his. Glancing at the can of air freshener on
Jane's desk, he suddenly got up, and raced for the door. But
before he made it out of the room Jane heard that distinctive
burping sound. And again, fainter and fainter, down the hallway.
It was pushing 6 PM before David Kapnick returned again. He
was munching on a ham sandwich, and he nodded to Jane. "It's time.
Come with me," he said.
Jane felt the thrill of having Talman's worried eyes focus on
her as she left the room. Finally, she was going into action.
"What am I going to do? Do I need any background
information?" Jane asked excitedly. It was finally beginning! She
was finally getting into the practice of law! Oh, it was corporate
law, not what she had initially been looking forward to, but at
least it was a step forward!
"You won't need any background information," said Kapnick.
"You'll just need your common sense."
Oh. That was sort of a let down for Jane.
Kapnick took her to the secretary's desk outside Dick Brant's
office. Brant was just putting on his coat as he walked out to
greet them. "David, great. And you must be Jane. Good to meet
you," he said, pumping her hand.
Dick Brant was a short, thin fellow with an almost totally
bald head. His head was perspiring, causing it to reflect against
the lights in the office. "Now David, you know what to do, right.
Draft the remittance section just as we discussed."
"Don't worry, Dick. Everything's in good hands," said
Kapnick.
"Good," said Brant, departing. "You're in charge!"
"Did you hear that?" said Kapnick. "Dick Brant said I was in
charge." He beamed, savoring the moment, raising his head and half
closing his eyes as if he were listening to some imaginary
applause.
"I heard him. Now, what do we do?" Jane was eager to begin.
"We?" Kapnick said the word with scorn. "What I'm going to
do is to draft this section of the prospectus. What you're going
to do is give this tall stack of papers to the secretary. These
are Dick's comments from the last draft."
"Check," said Jane. "What do I do then?"
Kapnick looked confused. "Do then? Why, proofread the
changes, of course. I'll be in Dick's office, if you need me."
Jane frowned. She sat down by the secretary's desk, and
steeled herself for the wait.
The secretary glared at her. "Don't sit on top of me."
An hour later the secretary brought out the changed pages.
Jane, sighing, started to work. She meticulously checked the
corrections against the new version. Some of the corrections had
more red ink on them than typeface. Often the corrections were
marked with many little arrows, each pointing in different
directions, some crossed out, others crossed out with the words
"Ignore", and some crossed out with the words "Ignore" lightly
crossed out surrounded by an even smaller "disregard ignore".
But Jane went through the changes carefully, and brought them
in to Kapnick when she was done. He was sitting in Dick Brant's
executive high back chair, his feet on the desk. He was reading a
comic book while eating a baloney sandwich.
Jane cleared her throat. "Here are the corrections."
"Eh?" said Kapnick, his mouth full of baloney.
"The corrections."
"Great. Wait for the second set."
"Is the secretary typing them now?"
"No," said Kapnick, putting down the comic book. "I'm working
on them."
Jane almost exploded. Here she was, a glorified proofreader,
working into the night, and she was just waiting for this fat boy
to get his act together. Her rage seemed about to explode when she
suddenly reasserted control, pushing it down. All that came out
was a sigh, as she slowly left his office.
An hour passed. And then another. Jane looked at her watch.
It was pushing 10 o'clock!
Jane went into Brant's office, fully expecting Kapnick to be
immersed in the travails of Archy and Jughead. But he was sitting
with his hands on his head, sweating over the provisions of the
document. "What?" he said, without looking up.
"How's it going?" said Jane.
"I don't know," said Kapnick. "It's going to be a while. I
have two more paragraphs I have to figure out."
"Oh," said Jane, making a hasty retreat. In the back of her
mind she wondered why Kapnick hadn't worked on this provision
during the day. Why did he leave things until the last minute?
Jane sat in a chair, and waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, she felt someone shaking her on the shoulder.
"What?" she said, startled. She must have spaced out. What was
happening?
It was Kapnick, complete in coat and furry hat. "I just gave
the changes to the secretary. You can go home when it's done."
Jane looked at her watch. It was almost 11:30! "Don't you
want to stay and see...."
"Tomorrow," said Kapnick. "Bye!" he added. He waddled out
the door.
Jane approached the secretary, sighing inwardly. "Will the
changes take very long?" she asked cautiously. Maybe she could be
out of there by 1 AM....
"Are you kidding?" said the secretary. She held up a large
wad of red inked pages.
"But I thought David was working on just a few paragraphs...."
Jane rapidly scanned the pages. Many of them were Dick Brant's
changes that Kapnick hadn't submitted to the secretary! Because of
his tardiness, Jane would be forced to sit there for hours more!
Jane was too weary to cry. She just slumped down in her
chair. It was going to be a long evening....
Jane stumbled into work the next morning. By the time she had
finished last night it was 2:30 in the morning. She collapsed in
her chair at work. She just sat there for a few moments, oblivious
to Talman's slurping of his juice and the lion sized lip smacking
sounds he made as he chomped open-mouthed on his muffin. But then
Kapnick came in.
"I'm very disappointed with you, Jane," he said. Even this
early in the morning there was a coke can in hand.
"Why?"
"You missed this phrase here," he said, pointing at a heavily
marked page.
One correction? One correction out of hundreds? But Jane
quickly sat up, scanning the page. "But the arrow putting that in
was crossed out," Jane protested.
"But see here, in small letters, where it says 'ignore
crossout'?"
"Yes," said Jane, slowly nodding. "But that mark itself is
crossed out."
"Yes, but look here," said Kapnick. He pointed to the other
corner of the page. In little words, it said, "Ignore crossout of
ignore crossout." A thin line connected it to the previous
comment.
"But this line connects to several other lines. How was I
supposed to know what this comment was in reference to?"
"You'll know... when you're a lawyer," snickered Kapnick.
"You also missed two commas on page 127. I'm very disappointed in
you, Jane." He smirked at her, as if he had just bested her in
some competition.
Jane sighed. She had proofread until 2:30 in the morning, and
this was the thanks she got. "All right, what do we do now?"
"Do? Well, tonight we have more work."
"Why not today?" Why did everything have to wait until the
last minute?
"Dick Brant has to look over the changes. He'll be done,
oh... around five o'clock."
Jane sighed. Another day of sitting around and doing nothing.
Well, she resolved to put her time to good use. Maybe she could do
some pro bono. She resolved to talk to Mr. Teitelbaum about it.
Jane looked at her watch. It was almost 10 AM. Mr. Teitelbaum
would still be at breakfast. And with his hectic schedule, if she
didn't catch him quickly after that he would be out for lunch. No,
better to talk to Mr. Tolcott. She went to his office.
Tolcott was sitting back in his chair, his head back, his eyes
closed, and his shoes and socks were off. Dana, his secretary, was
massaging his feet.
"Huh?" said Jane involuntarily.
"Shh!" said Dana softly. "You'll wake him." She was dressed
in a tight skimpy dress, one that showed more of her body than it
concealed. Which was undoubtedly the purpose, Jane thought, as she
noticed Dana bending over Bart in a suggestive manner.
"Jane," said Tolcott softly, in that monotone voice. He
didn't even open his eyes, but he said, "What do you want?"
"Uh, ah...." Jane was at a sudden loss for words. "I'm
looking for information about... about pro bono opportunities."
"Pro bono," said Tolcott, speaking the words slowly, as if
they were an alien concept. "Pro bono."
"Yes." Jane inwardly pushed herself. Why did all her courage
seem to sap in his presence? She forced herself to speak again.
"What sorts of pro bono opportunities does the firm sponsor?" Jane
wanted to know. She knew they had once talked about first
amendment work, but....
"All kinds of pro bono," said Tolcott.
"Can you be a little more specific?"
Tolcott let out a deep sigh. Wearily he opened his eyes.
"You'll have to talk with Kenneth," he said woodenly.
"Thanks," said Jane. She made her way to Kenneth's office.
Kenneth was on the phone, arguing loudly with someone, but he
motioned Jane to come in.
"No... No, we're not going to pay you," said Kenneth, into the
phone. A pause. "We didn't get him through you. That's why we
don't have to pay the headhunter fee." Another pause. "You think
you're the only firm recruiter in town? We used someone else!"
Pause. "Listen, you say you recommended him and you should get the
recruiting fee. But I told you, we found him through someone
else." Pause. "I don't care. We'll use another headhunter in the
future. Goodbye!" He slammed down the phone.
"Hello Jane," he said, giving a gentle smile. "What can I do
for you?"
Jane stated she was interested in finding out about pro bono
opportunities.
Kenneth look startled. "Why are you coming to me for?"
Jane explained that Tolcott had referred her to him, and she
wanted to know what kind of pro bono the firm did.
"Bart sent you here? He must have been pulling your leg,"
said Kenneth.
Jane tried to keep a straight face. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I keep statistics on pro bono, but I don't coordinate
it."
"How much pro bono did the firm do last year, then?" Jane
asked. She was starting to get a nasty feeling in the pit of her
stomach.
"How much?" He paused. Kenneth flipped through a few pages
of a chart on the side of his desk. He turned to his calculator,
hummed while he pressed in a few numbers, and made a number of
notations on a piece of paper. Then he looked up. "Zero, I
think."
Zero? Zero!!! It was all a sham, then.
"Then what were those calculations you were doing....?"
"Oh. I was just finishing some of my payroll computations.
Doing two things at once, you know, most efficient."
Jane left Kenneth's office, soundly dejected. She slunk back
to her office... just in time to find Talman, meeting with his
tailor.
An elderly Asian man was measuring Talman's arms with a tape
measure. He was a short man, though not nearly as short as Talman,
enabling him to take Tim's measurements without bending down very
much.
Jane raised an inquiring eyebrow. Talman caught her glance,
immediately frowned.
"It's my tailor," Talman said defensively. "I have the shirts
made in Hong Kong."
"Why don't you buy them in a store like everyone else?" Jane
wanted to know.
"You see these?" said little Tim, holding up his cuffs. Jane
noticed his initials on them. "This means they're custom designed
to perfectly fit my body. No off-the-rack one size fits all
clothes for Tim Talman!"
Jane wondered whether he was worried whether men's shirts came
in sizes as small as his, but she held her tongue.
That evening Jane had another night of dilatory proofreading.
Kapnick kept her going until midnight. He, however, managed to
leave by 9:30, only dropping off most of the changes to be
proofread right before he left. Jane asked him why he could not
submit the changes in stages, especially as most of the changes had
been prepared hours in advance by Dick Brant.
"I need to refer to some of the changes," said Kapnick
defensively. "I may make changes to Dick's changes."
"But if you do that, we'll submit those as new changes," said
Jane. "Better to let the night secretary make all the changes she
can from the start."
"No, we're not going to do it that way," said Kapnick. And
they didn't.
Jane stumbled into work the next morning, knowing that today,
Thursday, was the last day of this transaction. How much more
could there be? She went looking for Kapnick, but he wasn't in his
office. She immediately tried the lunch room, but only found
Ivanova.
"What you doing here?" she demanded. "You not eat, you go."
Jane went. Her next stop was Dick Brant's office, and, sure
enough, Kapnick was there.
"-I'll start looking over these documents in the middle of the
afternoon," said Brant. "My mind will be fresher then."
"When are we going to go the printers?" Kapnick asked.
"The usual. Tell them to expect us about 10 PM."
10 PM! They would just be starting to go to the printers at
10 PM! Why was everyone at this firm such massive procrastinators?
Was this a way of running up billables? Or was everyone here just
inefficient? By necessity Jane kept those thoughts to herself.
"Ah, Jane, there you are," said Brant. "It's good you're
here. We'll need your best proofreading skills for this one."
Her best proofreading skills. Jane promised to deliver,
purging any lack of enthusiasm from her voice.
"Good. Let's get to work, then," said Brant. He reached for
his coat and hat. "I'll be in Bloomies. If anyone's looking for
me, I'll be back around 2."
Sure enough, it was ten o'clock at night before they started
moving. Jane's proofreading tasks started around five. "Why do we
always start so late?" she asked.
"Dick spends a lot of time being meticulous with the
document," said Kapnick. "Every phrase, every article of
punctuation, has to be just right. He wants each prospectus to be
not merely functional, but also a work of commendable prose."
Jane took a deep breath. That was fine for Dick Brant. But
what about her? "And when am I going to get to do anything more
than proofreading?"
"You have to work your way up the ladder," said Kapnick
unpityingly. "But proofreading is a good way of learning about the
document."
At almost ten o'clock at night they descended upon Brant's
office. He was sitting there, staring at the document, his hands
in his face. He muttered, "Should it be the, or these?" He
considered a line of text, reading it aloud. "THE documents were
filed with the trustee. No, THESE documents were filed with the
trustee... oh, I can't decide!" Suddenly Brant looked up, seeing
them enter. "Yes?"
"We're ready to go to the printer."
"You totally derailed my train of thought!" Brant calmed down
a bit, and sighed. "Sorry, it's the pressure. All right. Let's
go to the printers, I'll pick up where I left off when we get
there."
The printer's offices was located on the southeastern edge tip
Manhattan, right in the heart of the fishpacking district. It was
totally deserted at this time of night, of course, and only the
gloomy, dark alleys reeking of dead fish greeted them as they
emerged from the cab.
"This is the printers?" said Jane, looking around cautiously.
"Look," said Kapnick, pointing. A small sign over a set of
stairs leading into the basement of one of the buildings read
"Superior Printers."
They were greeted at the door by a large woman wearing...
well, the best way to describe it was a caveman's outfit. Or a
cavewoman's outfit. It was a one piece dress that seemed to be
made of... fur. Or large hairs. Jane wondered if fatigue and the
lateness of the hour was causing her to imagine things. But no,
the woman was dressed in a one piece outfit that seemed to be made
of long hairs.
She greeted each of them, giving each a small hug, which Jane
also thought was strange, but the conference room she took them to
was normal enough, a large round table with writing pads for each
of them.
"We're processing your latest changes. They'll be done
shortly," said the Cave Woman. She had told them her name, but
Jane just thought of her as the Cave Woman.
"What do we do in the meantime?" Jane asked, putting down a
redweld filled with handmarked changes.
"We check the last version of the document against the
previous," said Kapnick. "Let's start by reading it word for
word."
"Word for word backwards, from the end," said Dick Brant.
"That's an excellent way to catch errors."
"Let's begin, then," said Kapnick. He turned to the back of
the 150 page document, and said, "I'll take the last version, you
take the one before that. Transcript."
Jane turned to the last page of the version she had been
given. "Transcript."
"The."
"The."
"Documented."
"Documented."
It was going to be a long, long night.
Dick Brant's latest changes came back nearly an hour later.
Once Jane and Kapnick had finished checking them they noticed that
Dick Brant was grabbing his head, muttering to himself.
"Should there be a comma there?" he said, sweating profusely.
Drips of perspiration formed on his shiny head. "What about this
parenthetical? Is there any better way to say that? And what
about this 'and'? Should it go in, or should it stay out?"
It went on like that for hours. Dick Brant kept reading and
rereading passages he had written, making little punctuation
changes here and there, occasionally striking out an entire word
and replacing it with a similar one.
Jane and Kapnick were kept busy, however, by reading different
versions of the document back to each other.
"Securities."
"Securities."
"The."
"The."
"Purchase."
"Purchase."
In over three hours of steady work they had progressed from
page 150 to page 135. Finally at around 2AM Dick Brant grabbed his
head and moaned, "MY BRAIN IS BROKEN!"
Kapnick and Jane looked up.
Brant's shiny head glistened in the light of the conference
room. "MY MIND ISN'T WORKING!" he moaned again.
Kapnick wet his lips diplomatically. "The document's in
pretty good shape. Perhaps we should call it a night-"
"No!" said Brant. "There could still be mistakes! Mistakes!"
He looked at them, and resolution hardened in his eyes. "Back to
work! Everyone back to work!"
Kapnick and Jane went back to work reading the document back
to each other. At around 4AM the Cave Woman brought them tea and
cookies, but neither noticed. Brant kept on submitting succeeding
drafts of his document, making minor changes in each round.
Finally at around 5AM he grabbed his head and shrieked, "Oh,
I can't do this anymore." He collapsed, his face in his arms, and
Jane thought she heard sniffling noises.
Kapnick winked at Jane and nodded. They were done.
They took a cab home. Kapnick lived in the upper west side,
so Jane shared a cab with him. Dick Brant lived in Scarsdale, and
took his own cab.
"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" said Kapnick. Without
waiting for an answer, he said, "Listen, you don't have to come in
first thing in the morning tomorrow."
"Thanks," said Jane, relieved.
"Just be in by 10 AM."
"Ten o'clock!"
"Just in case."
"Just in case what?"
"Just in case something needs to be done."
And so Jane was in the office at 10 AM. There was no work to
be done, of course, and so a bleary-eyed Jane whittled away the
day, doing little but day dreaming.
Kapnick showed up at work at 12:30, just in time for lunch.
He was in such a pleasant mood that he invited Jane to join him at
lunch. He was sitting with Heidi Blakelock and Amanda Warwick.
"-and so Dick was just sitting there, looking dazed, and so I
finished drafting the section," said Kapnick. Evidently he was
finishing up a story about the night before. Jane wondered when
Kapnick had had the chance to do any drafting since he had been
proofreading with her most of the night.
"And Jane here fell asleep during the night," he said, giving
her a bit of an elbow.
"What?" said Jane, her tired mind suddenly racing. And then
she remembered. "Yes, we took a five minute break between drafts,
and I closed my eyes until the next draft came out-"
"Dick Brant didn't like that," said Kapnick.
"What? At the time we didn't have any work to do-"
"He thought it was unprofessional."
"He thought?" said Jane. "Did he say-"
Suddenly Warwick saw Tolcott out of the corner of her eye.
"Baawt!" she said. "Excuse me," she said, getting up quickly.
"A little slack there, Jane," Kapnick snickered.
Jane was bewildered. Why was Kapnick doing this? Yes, he was
a slob, with piggish eating habits, and he did seem to enjoy
lording his power over her, but she had never seen this side of him
before, the side that enjoyed exposing her to personal humiliation
in front of others.
"All right, this lunch's a rap," said Kapnick. He picked up
the bill. "Ok, who are we charging this to?"
What did he mean?
"Gary Company," said Blakelock, getting up.
"I'll charge mine to... let's see... Maine Metals," said
Kapnick. "Who has Amanda been working for lately?"
"Dunno," said Blakelock, heading out the door.
"Then I'll bill hers to Gary Company as well," said Kapnick.
Jane was stunned. Kapnick was billing his lunch to their
clients! Jane understood that meals were only to be billed to
clients when attorneys were working late, or working while eating.
But no work had gone on here.
Blakelock gave Jane a small wave of the hand. She wanted her
to follow.
Heidi Blakelock had a small office on the other side of the
floor. It was filled with all sorts of legal books stacked on top
of each other, and piles of papers flowed over from her desktop
onto the ground.
"So I hear you were at the printers last night," said
Blakelock diplomatically.
"It was nothing like David described," said Jane. She noticed
that Blakelock's hands were playing with her hair. Well, playing
was perhaps not the right word. She was touching the very edges of
her head, careful, it would seem, not to disturb a single strand.
Her hair always seemed arranged in the exact same way, pulled back
so that every hair was in place. Blakelock's hair style never
changed, not even slightly. Jane thought that was a bit odd,
though she wasn't quite certain why.
"You mean Dr. Lunch was telling a whopper?"
"Doctor Who?"
"Doctor Lunch. That's David's special name," said Blakelock.
"He has a great fondness for eating. Hadn't you noticed?"
Jane wasn't sure how to answer that. "Well, I noticed that he
had a tendency to leave food around...."
"He's a slob. He marks his territory, like an animal, leaving
bits and pieces of himself everywhere," said Blakelock.
Jane related what had happened during the previous nights.
Blakelock nodded. "Makes sense."
"Makes sense? In what way?"
"Dick Brant is notorious for never being able to make up his
mind. Even if he has days and days to prepare something, he'll
always be working up to the last minute, agonizing over every last
comma. Don't fret it Jane, he acts that way with everyone."
Jane heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, someone who
understood!
"But doesn't Dick's dithering cost the client untold hundreds
of dollars extra?"
"Thousands extra. That's the idea," said Heidi, winking. She
quickly changed the subject, however, and they soon were talking
about other members of the firm, and then the conversation turned
to the subject of Mr. Tolcott.
"Bart's really great," said Blakelock. "If you get him in an
active mood, he can teach you a lot."
"He always looks so... depressed," said Jane, for want of a
better word.
"Oh, you just haven't caught him at the right time. He can be
a great teacher."
A teacher of what? Jane thought silently.
Blakelock caught the look. She pursed her lips. "You've
heard the rumors," she said flatly.
"Rumors?" said Jane.
"About Bart. About Bart and... women."
Jane, eyebrows raised, said nothing.
"It's true that he's more positively inclined towards some of
the women here, like Amanda," said Blakelock. "But I don't think
anything's going on. Maybe he and Dana-"
"His secretary?" The notion seemed to shock Jane.
"Notice that she always wear butt-tight clothing?" said
Blakelock. "She knows that Bart likes to admire the scenery." She
abruptly changed tact. "Still, he can be a great teacher, and I've
learned everything I've learned about the law from him. And he's
never made an improper move around me!"
"Um hm," said Jane, not really listening anymore. She kept a
noncommittal public face, but she burned inside.
"A lecher! A dirty old lecher!" Jane exploded.
It was Saturday, and with a good's nights rest she found much
of her old strength returning.
"Hang on," said Denise over the phone. "He hasn't done
anything to you, has he?"
"No," Jane had to admit. "But everyone says that Bart is a
dirty old lecher!"
"I think you've had greater problems with Dick Brant and this
David Lunchnick fellow," Denise observed.
Jane burst out laughing. "That's Kapnick, David Kapnick, and
his nickname is Dr. Lunch."
"Oh." Denise shifted her tact. "Really Jane, I'm really
surprised that all you associates are doing heavy duty
proofreading. In my firm we have paralegals do proofreading, or,
if there's a lot to be done, we give it to the proofreading
department."
"You have a proofreading department!" Jane was stunned. "They
told me that by proofreading I would learn about the document."
"And have you?"
"I've learned where that crazy Brant likes to put his commas,"
said Jane. "Other than that...."
"Well, look on the bright side," said Denise. "You're just
starting out. It couldn't get worse, could it?"
The following Monday was payday. Jane eagerly tore open the
envelope that was sitting on her desk. The faint hints of a grin
were immediately replaced by a frown: federal income tax, state
income tax, city income tax, social security tax... by the time it
was all deducted, her pay was whittled down to a diminutive figure.
And speaking of diminutive, Tim Talman was also frowning as he
looked at his paycheck. "Something's wrong here."
"What?"
"I think we're getting underpaid." He rapidly took out his
calculator, and did a quick set of calculations. "Yep."
"What?"
"Our gross pay on an annualized basis is $5000 less than we
were promised."
"$5000 less?" Jane couldn't believe her ears. She did the
math herself, however, and quickly found out that Talman was right.
They were being underpaid! What was going on here?
It must be a clerical error. But they both resolved to set
matters straight as quickly as possible, and they both went
immediately to Kenneth's office.
Kenneth was on the phone, but waved them in.
"-what do you mean, we didn't pay you for those books? Those
books aren't on our shelves; you've made a mistake!"
There was a pause.
"Yes, come and see, they're not there!"
Another pause.
"No, you can't come anytime you like. You have to make an
appointment in advance. What's wrong, don't you trust me?"
Pause.
"Well, try and repossess them! See if I care!" And he
slammed down the phone.
Kenneth took a deep breath, calming himself. "And what can I
do for you two?"
Jane took a breath herself, getting ready to explain in a calm
and rational manner-
"We're not getting all our money!" Talman wailed. "Look! We
were underpaid!"
"Underpaid? Hm, that's not likely," said Kenneth, raising a
Spockian eyebrow. He calmly took Talman's check, and did some
computing on his calculator. After a few minutes of humming to
himself he said, "Look's right to me."
"How can that be? That's $5000 less than the figure in the
employer directory-"
"Ooh, the employer directory," said Kenneth, as if that
cleared everything up. "Now I understand. No, you mustn't rely on
the employer directory."
"What?"
"That's merely an estimate of what first year salaries are to
be," said Kenneth. "You mustn't rely on an estimate. Most
unofficial."
"That's not unofficial," said Talman. "That's implied
contract-"
"Afraid not," said Kenneth, with a knowing smile. "Somewhat
coincidentally, the firm just happened to test this proposition in
litigation some years ago. The firm, needless to say, won."
He was met by a stunned silence.
"Come come! Your salaries right now are already higher than
90% of the US population. Don't let us be greedy now."
Greedy? Jane found that ironic. If anyone was being
greedy.....
They left Kenneth's office, firmly demoralized. Jane walked
back to the office, her head slunk. Talman followed behind her,
making burping sounds all the way. This time the firm had cheated
them both.
Jane spent the next few days doing odds and ends, small
research assignments and bits and pieces of proofreading. It was
three days after they had discovered the "adjustment" to their
paychecks before Kenneth stuck his head in the door again.
"How are you all doing?" he said, giving a false smile.
"Ok," said Jane. "What's up?" He wanted something, that was
obvious. Kenneth never dropped by just to chew the fat.
Kenneth casually ran his hand through his thinning hair.
"We're going to be doing some interviewing over the next few days.
We'd like your cooperation in the process."
"Sure," said Jane, shrugging. Then, as Kenneth departed, Jane
turned to her desk. The officer workers said they had fixed the
center drawer. Jane gave a mighty tug.
"Ow!" She had pulled a muscle in her arm. The drawer,
however, still refused to budge.
Over the course of the next few days Jane noticed young men
and women dressed in formal suits being taken around the firm. As
she walked through the halls she heard snatches of conversation.
"We believe that associate training occurs best at a medium
sized firm."
"-the firm has an extensive writing program-"
"-equal opportunity employer-"
"-Mr. Tolcott is our pro bono coordinator-"
Jane almost burst out laughing. As it so happened Mr.
Teitelbaum was waddling down the corridor with a young female
applicant. Jane hastily changed it into a cough. "Aha--Cough
cough," she said. "Cough!" she said again, under Teitelbaum's
watchful eye.
Mr. Teitelbaum escorted the woman down the hallway, his eyes
firmly planted on her rump.
Later that day, Kenneth brought a young man in to see her.
"I'd like you to meet Jane Sommers, one of our attorneys from
Columbia Law School."
One of them? The only one!
Kenneth continued, gesturing to Jane. "This is Mr. Roger
Barriston," Kenneth said. "He's our applicant, I mean, an
applicant from Columbia," he said, doing little to contain the
excitement in his voice. It wasn't everyday that the firm was able
to persuade a Columbia student to actually come out to see the
firm. "Now Jane, you take good care of him," he said, closing the
door behind him.
Tim looked over at Jane, and then at Barriston. "Would you
like me to step outside?"
Jane nodded.
Tim quickly got out of his chair. Jane minutely heard some
tell-tale noises left in his wake as he headed towards the door.
When Talman popped open the door to leave he found Kenneth,
apparently pausing outside. Talman quickly closed the door behind
him.
Kenneth's spying on me, Jane realized. So much for the
private interview. She cleared her throat, pointing to the young
applicant. "So, Roger, what brings you to Tolcott Teitelbaum?"
"I'm looking for a firm with a dynamic corporate practice,"
said Barriston mechanically. It sounded as if he had said the same
thing fifty times before.
"Well, there's no practice no more dynamic than the corporate
department's," said Jane with a cheerfulness she did not feel.
"Our pro bono coordinator, Mr. Tolcott, could tell you that."
The conversation went on at length, and Jane asked all the
standard questions about the young man's interests, experience, and
education. Finally the time came for him to ask the questions.
"Are junior associates given much experience?" he asked.
Jane thought of her long nights on proofreading patrol. "You
bet. My first month here I was put on a prospectus." She had
purposely selected the rather vague statement "put on", which was
ambiguous enough to mean anything from drafting the document to
sitting on it.
"A prospectus! Did you get much drafting experience?"
Jane thought of all the punctuation she had added to the
documents. "You bet." It seemed a shame to lie to the young man;
he seemed to be such a nice fellow. But Kenneth was standing right
outside, watching, listening... what could she rightly do?
"Would you recommend this firm to others?" said Barriston.
Jane thought quickly. She tried to remember what hostages and
prisoners of war did, when they were forced to send videotaped
messages back to their homelands that were prepared by their
captors. Sometimes they tried to sneak in secret messages of their
own. "Of course," Jane said, rolling her eyes and then staring at
the ceiling.
"What was that?" said Barriston.
"What was what?"
"That thing you did, with your eyes?"
What a fool! Well, this is what she got for trying to help
him. No good deed went unpunished. "It's... it's nothing. I had
a speck in my eye."
"Oh," said Barriston. "How are the people here? What's it
like working for them?"
"Oh, it's really quite great," said Jane, tapping quickly on
the desk. She knew morse code, and kept tapping no, no, no,
followed by SOS, SOS, SOS!
But if Barriston knew morse code, he didn't let on. "What's
the thing you most dislike about working here?"
Well, let's see, Jane thought to herself. Tolcott's
womanizing, Talman's flatulence, Kapnick's slobbery, her indentured
servitude in the library, Dick Brant's inanities, her insolent
secretary... which to choose from? And how to answer the question,
with Kenneth hovering just outside her door?
So Jane just tugged at her center drawer. "I wish they would
get this fixed," she grinned, with a jocularity she didn't feel.
Barriston frowned, obviously dissatisfied with her answer.
"No, really."
Jane had had enough of this. Lying was one thing, but this
was one question that she couldn't get started on. Escorting him
to the door, she said, "You can ask Mr. Teitelbaum. Kenneth, we're
ready for you," Jane said, just before she opened the door.
Kenneth stood there, looking somewhat abashed.
"So, are we ready to move on?" he asked, quickly recovering.
After that they mostly left Jane alone. They occasionally had
Talman performing some of the interviews but never Jane. Either
they had been dissatisfied with some of her dissembling or else
they hadn't been able to persuade any other applicant from a top
school to come back and interview at the firm. But occasionally
Jane did see a Tolcott Teitelbaum attorney walking by with an
applicant, pointing at her.
Jane knew what they were saying. "Look! Look! We have
somebody from Columbia."
The prospectives were never permitted to come too close, for
fear that they might be contaminated by Jane's lack of team spirit.
The fall wore on. Jane kept busy with more proofreading
tasks, and at the best of times she was occasionally permitted to
fill out small forms. And life went on. One time she came into
Tolcott's office to ask him a question, and found him facing away,
talking to his secretary.
"Dana, could you bend over and get that for me?" he said,
pointing to a stack of papers on the floor.
As she bent over, giving Tolcott a prime view of her buttocks,
he reached over and gave her a pinch.
"Bawwwwrrt!" she said indignantly.
Jane waited for an explosion.
But Dana only grinned, saying, "Don't you squeeze the Sharmin-
" suddenly, looking up, she noticed Jane.
Bart, reading the surprised expression on her face, didn't
turn around, but said, "Jane," in that chilling monotone.
How did he always know when it was her? But Jane just asked
her question quickly and went out. If Dana was willing to put up
with this slobbish behavior that was her business. But Jane would
never tolerate that.
And Bart seemed to know that. He looked at other women in the
office like they were sacks of beef, but he maintained a respectful
disinterest where Jane was concerned, almost as if he knew where
she stood.
Jane returned to her office and got down to work. She found
it easiest to take books from the library and make use of them back
in her office, because if she camped out in one of those small
library cubicles, Moss was liable to come by and attempt to dragoon
her into shelving some of his books.
So Jane worked at her desk and was reasonably productive. But
one day she noticed a chill in the air. As first, she didn't pay
very much attention, but when she started shivering a bit, she put
her hand on the airduck by the window. It was blowing out cold
air! Talman didn't seem to mind; he just sat at his desk, doing
his work, ignoring everything around him.
But Jane was freezing. She left her office, determined to go
and complain about it to Kenneth.
But she ran into Mr. Kirch first. "Mr. Kirch, who do I go to
complain about the heat?" Jane asked.
"The heat?" said Kirch. He fixated on her with his big eyes.
"What about it?"
"There is none. The air that's blowing in is cold."
Kirch stepped into her office. "It's not so cold."
"Well... it's pretty cold."
Kirch trained those bug eyes on her again. "Get used to it."
He walked away. Jane, shivering a bit, put on her overcoat and got
back to work.
After a few days her work dried up. Jane went to Bart, but he
had nothing for her to do. Jane went by Mr. Teitelbaum's office,
but he was always out, either on a meal or in some client-inspired
golf game. She also stopped by Ailing's office occasionally; but
although he always promised her work, he never delivered.
Finally on a Wednesday at 5 PM she heard a tap on her door.
It was Manuel Francois, a senior corporate associate.
"Jane?" he said. "Hi, I have an assignment for you. A
company we represent is selling some of its assets, and I need your
help."
This sounded like a substantive assignment! Talman
immediately looked alarmed.
"Come to my office, and I'll explain," said Francois.
Jane eagerly followed him, ignoring the burping sounds coming
back from the office she had quickly departed.
She took a seat when she reached Francois' office.
"We've got to comment on this agreement that the other side
produced, and we've got to give our comments by tomorrow morning,"
said Francois, waving a thick pile of papers. "I'm going to read
it tonight."
"What do you want me to do?" said Jane. At last, liberation
from the nights of proofreading!
"Here is a 25 page term sheet that summarizes the deal. Match
up all the terms and provisions with this 250 page document," said
Francois.
Jane looked at both documents, and then gulped. "When do you
need this by?"
"Tomorrow morning! I already said that!" Francois snapped.
Suddenly, he no longer seemed very friendly. "Got it?"
Jane got it.
Well, at least she could work at home. She sat down, and
slowly poured through the term sheet. It contained pages and pages
of minute terms of the agreement.
Then she started looking through the agreement. But Jane
quickly threw up her hands. This was impossible! By the time she
had read the entire document, it would already be the following
morning.
So she concentrated on trying to match up the terms. Some
were easy, such as definitions. But matching up key provisions
proved to be more difficult. For example, the term sheet stated
that payments for assets purchased was to be made in intervals, but
the actual agreement called for half of the payment to be in a lump
sum and the other half to be distributed according to a complicated
formula. Jane spent a half hour trying to decide whether the
agreement's provisions complied with the spirit of what was being
suggested in the term sheet. Eventually she flagged it, as an
issue to raise with Francois.
It was hard enough when Jane was able to locate comparable
provisions in both documents. It was worse when Jane was unable to
find any comparable terms at all. Some provisions in the term
sheet simply could not be found in the agreement. Perhaps if Jane
had had a few days to slowly and carefully read the voluminous
document... but Francois wanted her report first thing tomorrow
morning.
Jane took a quick break at 11 PM to eat a hasty dinner. Just
then her parents called, wondering how she was.
"I can't talk," said Jane. "I have work."
"Work? At 11 o'clock?" said her mother. "Don't they know
it's late?"
But her father thought it was good. "This is how you're going
to get ahead, Jane."
"By doing term sheets?"
"By doing hard work. That's the way you'll stand out. You'll
see," said Mr. Sommers.
"Uh huh," said Jane. "Mom, Dad, gotta go. It's going to be
a long night."
"Promise me you'll get some sleep," said Mrs. Sommers.
"You bet," said Jane. "Love you, bye," she said robotically.
Jane put down the phone. A pile of thick papers was directly
in her view.
1 AM: Jane slowly compared all the representations and
warranties. Work was proceeding at a snail's pace.
2 AM: Jane was a little more than half done. She was looking
for a passage she thought she had seen before, but couldn't find
now.
4 AM: Jane blinked. She found herself staring at a page.
What was happening? She must have spaced out. She had to force
herself to concentrate. Need to concentrate....
Jane stirred, suddenly looking at the clock. It was nearly 6
AM! She had fallen asleep for nearly two hours! Francois would
never forgive her for that. Hurriedly, she returned to work.
By 9 AM she had just about finished. There were a number of
things that she had gone over quickly, and a goodly number of other
things that she just hadn't located, but Francois would just have
to be satisfied.
Clad in the same clothes she had worn the day before, she
scampered into work. First thing, Francois had said. First thing
in the morning.
First thing in the morning was 9:30 AM at Tolcott Teitelbaum.
Jane sat in Francois' office, waiting.
And waiting. Jane used the opportunity to do a last minute
review of the documents. She opened her redweld, and got down to
work. It was 10:25 AM before Francois made an appearance.
"What are you doing here?" he said, frowning.
"You said... you said you wanted to see me first thing-"
"I'll call you when I want you," said Francois. "Don't camp
out in my office!"
"Sorry," said Jane, making a hasty exit.
"Don't leave," said Francois. "If you're already here, you
might as well talk to me! Don't be an idiot!"
"Sorry," said Jane, shrinking back.
"And don't cringe when I talk to you!" said Francois.
"Sorry," said Jane.
"And stop saying you're sorry!"
"S... ok," said Jane.
"Now, what did you find?" said Francois.
Jane made her presentation. "I located this.. and this... and
this..."
Francois scanned a page, and pointed at a paragraph. "I don't
see this reference," said Francois, looking annoyed.
"Well, if you would please turn to page-"
"WHY DO YOU SAY PLEASE?" said Francois, as if Jane had
insulted him.
"Um... just a figure of speech. I'm s... can we go on?" Jane
asked. She ran through the rest of the material. Then, taking a
deep breath, she said, "And here is the stuff I wasn't able to
find." She went over the list.
Francois looked over the list, and his scowl only deepened.
"Why didn't you find all these things?"
"I don't know... I think many of them aren't in the
document...."
Francois flipped through the agreement rapidly, turning to one
page, and then another. Finally after a moment of silence he
jabbed his finger at a paragraph. "Here! It's right here, plain
as English, for anyone to see!"
Jane peered over at the paragraph, trembling a bit.
"How did you miss that?" Francois wanted to know.
"I'm new at this... I worked most of the night... I fell
asleep...."
"YOU WHAT! YOU FELL ASLEEP!" Francois thundered.
"Just for an hour or two! Honest!" said Jane.
"You fell asleep," said Francois.
"I was working all night...."
"I worked most of the night. Do you think I fell asleep?" He
glared at her, as if she would melt away. Jane withered a bit, but
stood her ground.
"No... it's just...."
"Maybe I should report this to Bart." He glared at her for a
long moment. Jane continued to withstand the glare. Finally he
said, "All right. Just forget it," said Francois. He grabbed the
papers out of Jane's hands, and snapped, "Dismissed."
Jane returned to her office in a daze, and was shaken up for
much the rest of the morning. What if Francois complained to Bart?
What would be Bart's reaction? Jane's head was spinning. When
noon time arrived, she decided to eat lunch at her desk. She went
out and bought herself a tuna salad, but then realized that she
didn't have a fork. What would she do? Jane grimaced at the idea
of eating with her fingers. But the only place where she could get
a fork would be... the kitchen.
On second thought, maybe eating with her fingers wouldn't be
so bad....
It took only a few moments for Jane to relent. She entered
the kitchen on tippy toes, carefully looking left and right as she
entered.
People were chattering away at lunch. David Kapnick had a
number of ham sandwiches in front of him. "Jane," he burped.
"Come and join us. I was just telling the guys again about the
night at the printers."
"No thanks," said Jane. She noticed Ivanova giving her a hard
look. "I'm just here to pick up a fork." She opened a drawer,
took out a plastic fork, and slowly walked away.
"Hey! You!"
Jane turned to see a beefy finger pointed at her. She froze
as she felt all eyes in the lunchroom focused on her. "What you
doing?" Ivanova demanded.
Jane lifted the fork, displaying the evidence. "Getting a
plastic fork." Why was she being treated like a common criminal?
Ivana shook her stubby head. "No, the drawer."
Jane looked at the drawer. It was closed.
"What?"
"You close the drawer. Don't leave it sticking open."
What was this? Jane looked more closely at the drawer. It
was indeed open, nearly two inches so. Jane slowly pushed the
drawer closed.
"That better," said Ivanova approvingly. "You lucky you not
in Russia. We teach young people some good manners there."
"I'm sure," said Jane, leaving. She heard the sounds of
laughter behind her as she left. In retrospect, she should have
eaten with her fingers.
The work progressed in a kind of dreary and slow way, with
periodic late night proofreading assignments broken up by small
research projects.
One time Jane was working late on a research assignment in her
office when she found herself unable to concentrate. Talman, who
had been working on a large offering of securities, was sitting at
his desk, drumming his fingers. Dadum dadum, dadum, dadum. The
sound was driving Jane mad.
Jane was tempted to go and study in the library, but she was
afraid that if she hung around there too frequently that Moss would
start nagging her to shelve books again. She could get Talman to
stop by making some short jokes in his direction, but she was in no
mood for a confrontation with her diminutive roommate. So instead
she went to one of the empty conference rooms, down the hall.
Jane started working, and for a few minutes she made good
progress. Then a glimpse of something caught her eye. She looked
up, out of the window. The building was shaped in an odd way, with
projections on the east/west sides, and the conference rooms at
Tolcott Teitelbaum were located at these projections. But what
this also meant was that anyone sitting in a conference room could
look into the windows of a good number of the other attorneys.
Right now Jane found herself looking into Bart's spacious
office. His curtains were closed, but they were of the sheer,
nearly see-through kind. There were two people in the room, one
sitting, one standing. Jane could see someone, standing in the
office, taking off his or her shirt... definitely a her. Her chest
swayed slightly, as the person in the chair reached out to pinch-
"What are you doing here?"
Jane turned around. It was Mr. Kirch.
"M-me?" said Jane, suddenly reddening. "I'm working on this
research assignment-"
Kirch scowled. "You're wearing out the conference room. If
you stay here, keep things neat." He turned and left, seemingly
oblivious to the scene outside the window.
Jane gathered up her belongings and quickly prepared to leave.
Kirch had said she could stay here, but she suddenly felt unnerved.
Better to study back in her office. Before she left she cast a
glance back at Bart's office.
She saw no signs of motion, and at first she though the room
was empty. Then she caught a bit of motion on the ground, a small
motion, like a body rolling over. Or two bodies rolling over.
Jane quickly left.
As she returned to her office she noticed that Bart's door was
closed. And Dana-
Dana was sitting at her desk, wearing a tight jumpsuit and
looking a little downcast.
Dana was sitting at her desk????
Then just who was it that Bart was in there with?
Jane finished her research. When she was done, she realized
she needed to report to Bart. She looked at her watch. Two hours
had passed. That should be enough.
She went to Bart's office. Bart was sitting amiably at his
desk, chatting with Heidi Blakelock. Could Heidi have been the one
with Bart? Jane refused to believe it. Heidi? No, not Heidi?
After all, anyone could have come and gone in the past two hours.
Jane cast a sharp glance at both of them. They both were
fully clothed, of course, and Heidi's hair was perfectly in place,
as always. But Bart's wasn't; his seemed to stick up a bit on the
sides. Perhaps his hair had become unkempt while he had been
rolling around on the floor.
"Jane," came that familiar monotone voice.
"Sorry, don't mean to interrupt," said Jane, casting a
sidewards glance at Heidi.
"What do you want?" Bart asked.
"Here," said Jane, handing over her report. Bart didn't seem
visibly different, although Jane didn't know what he was like after
he had sex, so she had no way of knowing.
Bart took it without comment. Jane turned to leave. Suddenly
she felt a pair of eyes on her buttocks. She quickly turned around
again, but Bart was staring at his desk. She must have imagined
it.
And all this time Heidi had been quiet, not saying a word, not
even saying hello as she had entered Bart's office. Jane made the
short trip back to her office without further event.
Chapter 3: Winter
September turned into October, October turned into November,
and, ever so slowly, November turned into December. Jane found
herself counting the weeks. In fact, she was not just counting the
weeks, but the days and hours too. At any given point in the day
she could recite just how many days, hours, and minutes she had
worked at the firm, based on her timesheets.
"It's a depressing exercise," her father had scolded her.
"Instead of focusing on the time you've served, like a prisoner,
you should be directing your energies to improving yourself."
"Improving myself? How?"
"You say they have you working in the library. Use that time
to read up on some of their corporate law texts."
Jane sighed, rolling her eyes. "Dad, they have me shelving in
the library. I don't exactly have the time to pick up a treatise
and start reading."
"Whatever. Pick out books that you'll read later. It will be
good for you," said Mr. Sommers.
"Dad, you want me to pick up a treatise, and read it cover to
cover?" Jane was aghast.
"Sure! It's a good way to get a proper grounding in the
field," said her father approvingly.
"And Jane, you also need a men-tor," said her mother,
pronouncing it in that stilted way. "I've been reading these books
on office politics, and they all say that you need a men-tor in
order to get ahead. A men-tor, Jane, don't forget that. Say, what
about that fellow who hired you? Could he be your men-tor?""
"Bart? My mentor?" Jane had images of asking Bart for a
favor... and then an image of him asking her for one. "No thanks."
"What about Mr. Teitelbaum?" Mrs. Sommers asked. "Isn't he
the head of your department?"
"Well, yes," Jane admitted.
"Go to him, Jane. Try to cultivate him. Use some of that
natural born charm you have," said Mrs. Sommers.
Jane sighed. "He's never in! He's always out to lunch!"
"What do you mean?"
"He's always out eating!"
"Then try him in the mornings."
"I do! But then he's having a late breakfast."
"Have you tried him in the late afternoons?"
Jane muttered something.
"Jane, you're going to have to give it your best," said Mrs.
Sommers. "I sense you're not really trying. If you want to get
ahead in the office, you're going to have to try harder. That's
what I read in "Looking out for #1"."
Late in the afternoon the following day Jane idly made her way
to Mr. Teitelbaum's office. She heard him go "Ho ho ho", and then
the sound of a phone hanging up. He was in the office, and he
wasn't eating. Perfect.
She entered his office. "Mr. Teitelbaum," she said. No one
called him Bruce.
"Jane," said Teitelbaum. "What can I do for you-"
Suddenly the phone rang.
"Just a moment, Jane." He picked up the phone. "Teitelbaum."
Then, "Uh huh... Uh huh... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY'RE GOING TO SUE
US?" he exploded. Jane had never seen him so angry. "The DA
doesn't have any evidence! There was a firewall between me and
him. There's no evidence he told me anything-" he listened again.
"I DON'T CARE! YOU GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER, GET THE DAMN DA'S OFFICE
ON THE PHONE, AND-"
Jane slunk out. She sensed this was a bad time.
Late in the afternoon of the next day Mr. Kirch showed up in
her office. "Doing anything, Jane?"
Actually, Jane was conducting a paperclip inventory on one of
her side drawers, and periodically trying to tug her center drawer
open, but she only said, "I have some free time."
"Good," said Kirch. "Tomorrow there's going to be a meeting
of the board of directors of Reid Industries, and I need your help.
Come to my office."
At last, to be in action again!
Jane grabbed her notepad, ignoring the burping sounds coming
from Talman's desk.
"The meeting is 9 AM tomorrow morning, the 25th floor of the
Chrysler building, don't be late," said Kirch, speaking as rapidly
as possible. He handed Jane a large stack of papers. "Here. Read
these and get ready for tomorrow."
Jane groaned slightly as Kirch landed the entire weight on her
hands. She looked up as if to ask a question but Kirch was already
looking away. She was dismissed.
Jane returned to her office. Then she remembered the question
she was going to ask: what was the purpose of reading all these
papers?
Talman immediately bombarded her with questions. What were
these documents? Who were they for? What was she going to do?
"Quite frankly, I don't know," said Jane, wishing he would
leave her alone.
Talman sifted through some of the documents. Slowly a broad
smile formed. And then he started to chuckle.
Jane ignored it at first, but as his smile grew broader and
broader and his laughter became too pronounced to be ignored, she
said, "Ok, ok, what? What is it?"
"You're the new minutes girl!"
"Minutes girl!"
Talman danced a little jig around the office. "I wondered who
they were going to pick!"
"Pick for what?"
Talman put a hand on her shoulder. "You, Jane, are the new
official minutes taker for Reid Industries. You will get to go to
frequent meetings of the Board of Directors and the Subcommittees,
sit there, listen to their fascinating deliberations, and take
minutes."
Jane's eyes narrowed. She took a step back, so that Talman's
hand fell off her. "What's the catch?"
"Catch? There's no catch, unless you mind sitting through
hours and hours of monotonous debate about cue-tip procurement and
paperclip inventories." He chuckled gleefully.
"Oh," said Jane.
"Ha ha," said Talman. "I have to tell the others," he said,
quickly leaving.
Jane sighed, returning to her desk. She looked at her watch.
It was 4:30. She looked at the stack of papers. Well, she had
better begin.
The next time Jane looked at her watch it was 7 PM, and she
was only one third of the way through her stack. This stuff was
plenty confusing. It was as if these were all summaries from other
reports, without any context to tell what any of it meant. For
example, one report referred to the Rule 14(a)(4) report, but there
was no reference to what statute the rule referred to. Another
report referred to the "ongoing problem with source and supply",
but while there was a long discussion of the problem in the
document, there was no direct clue as to what the subject matter of
the source and supply was.
Jane got up and walked to Mr. Kirch's office to ask a
question. His room was already dark. Well, that was one less
option.
When she got back to her office, she noticed a half eaten ham
sandwich on her desk. That was quick! How had Kapnick managed to
slip in and slip out in the space of just a few seconds....?
Sighing, Jane carried the unfinished meal back to Kapnick's office.
His light was dark. Doctor Lunch was out.
Sighing again, Jane dropped the sandwich on Kapnick's chair.
She hoped he wouldn't look when he sat down the following morning.
Jane decided to go home. It was always gloomy working while
other people were around, but it was even more depressing to be
working when most people had already gone home. So she took the
materials with her and went back to her apartment. It was cold
outside, and snowing, and Jane slipped and slided all the way home.
Several hours later she was still pouring over the documents
and they still didn't make any sense. It was as if someone had
taken small passages from a long book, written cliff notes on those
small parts, and deposited them in Jane's lap.
Suddenly the phone rang. A welcome respite.
It was her parents.
"Hi Mom, hi Dad," said Jane mechanically.
They wanted to know if Jane had given any thought to
furthering her career since they had last talked. Jane admitted
that she was still considering the matter, that she had tried
talking to Mr. Teitelbaum, but that Mr. T had been upset because
the firm was being sued for unethical practices. Jane concluded by
explaining that she was working right now, though, and was a little
busy, and couldn't get into the matter further.
"You're working now? At home? At this late hour?" said Mrs.
Sommers. She seemed oblivious to the fact that one had to work
late in order to get ahead or even to stay afloat.
"Yes, Mom," said Jane. She explained to her parents about the
board meeting that was to occur, emphasizing the dull and routine
nature of what was to take place.
Her parents were hysterically enthusiastic. "This is great,"
said Mr. Sommers. "This will give corporate bigwigs the chance to
see you in action!"
"But Dad-"
"And if you cultivate them, one of them could be a powerful
men-tor," said Mrs. Sommers. "Jane, don't you see how great this
could be?"
"Mom, Dad, I'm just going to be sitting there quietly, taking
notes," said Jane.
"Yes, but you'll be in the same room with powerful people,"
said Mr. Sommers. "Opportunities will arise, Jane. Take advantage
of them!"
"Uh huh," said Jane dully. If this was such a great
opportunity, why had Talman treated it like such a kick in the ass?
Jane had to admit that she was a little pleased with herself
the following morning. She was walking to work, as always, but
this time she wasn't going to the Tolcott Teitelbaum building, as
she jokingly called it. She was going somewhere else. it might be
a monotonous task, one that would bore her to tears. And later she
would be returning to Tolcott Teitelbaum. But for now she wasn't
going to the firm, and that was enough to make Jane pleased.
Without noticing that she was doing so, Jane struck up a happy
tune.
The Chrysler Building was a tall chrome structure that jutted
into the skyline. Jane entered the elevator and went to the
appropriate floor. She entered a fancy looking reception area,
which had elaborate tapestry on the walls. Large gold lettering on
the wall read "REID INDUSTRIES".
"Can I help you?" said the receptionist.
"My name is Jane Sommers, I'm here from Tolcott Teitelbaum-"
"Tol... what?"
"Tolcott Teitelbaum. Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi,
Kentrust & Kirch."
"Is that one company, or several?" said the receptionist,
looking very confused.
"We're a law firm," said Jane, surprised that the receptionist
didn't know. Hadn't Mr. Kirch been here before?
Just at that moment another receptionist entered the room.
"That's all right Madge, she's from that little firm that does the
corporate minutes."
"Oooh, you're the minutes people," said the first
receptionist, brightening. "Right this way, please."
The minutes people. Just like the exterminator and the Maytag
repairman.
Jane was led into a large boardroom where a number of
individuals were milling about. Kirch gave her a glare of
recognition and gestured for her to sit next to him. "Rule #1," he
hissed. "Keep quiet and shut up!"
Jane didn't like his tone, but she merely nodded curtly.
Kirch, painting a smile on his face, went around shaking
hands, swapping stories with the board members, mixing and being
social and pretending to be friendly. Meanwhile Jane, who was not
otherwise occupied, got her first good look at the directors.
The first thing she noticed was that they were all old. By
old she meant in their mid 60's and even early seventies; the
youngest among them couldn't have been less than 55. Obesity was
the rule and not the exception, although one of the exceptions was
a 70-ish looking man with thick spectacles who drooled.
Everyone took this in stride, even shaking the man's hand
while being careful not to come into contact with the occasional
stream of goo that flew over his lips. Jane wondered why no one
was saying anything. Didn't they mind if he created a mess on the
carpet?
The second thing she noticed about the directors was that they
were all white. The only blacks and hispanics she saw were the
ones setting up the refreshments on the sidelines.
The third thing she noticed was that all the directors were
men. The old white men at the top! Suddenly, Jane felt very much
alone.
"Let us begin," said the Chairman of the Board, banging his
gavel. Jane learned later that his name was Max Threlkill. He was
a squat, balding man who had tiny squinty eyes.
The agenda began. Jane immediately discovered that she had a
problem taking notes, because she didn't know the names of any of
the participants. She turned to whisper something to Mr. Kirch,
but he gave her a warning glare, and she decided against it. So
Jane attached every remark with a description of the person making
it. Here is what part of Jane's notes looked like:
Short, fat: Wants to know about progress of accounting.
Short, fat pimplelip: Says report will be coming soon.
Guy with "Droopy Dog" cheeks: Says report is coming out next week.
Guy with bad wig: Says never saw last month's report.
Dr. Drool: Wants to know about format of report.
The fellow who drooled seemed to command a lot of respect,
because the other directors deferentially referred to him as
"Doctor" and gave his opinions considerable weight, despite the
fact that with every word he uttered, slim streams of saliva lapped
off the top of his mouth. The man was evidently aware of his
liquid emissions, because he kept a pile of napkins neatly folded
on the spot on the table precisely below his chin, and he
continually dabbled his chin with one of those napkins as he
talked.
After the meeting Jane was forced to go to Kirch to find out
the names of all these people at the meeting. But in order to
describe them Jane had to use the nicknames she had adopted, such
as "You know, the gentleman with the floppy cheeks", and Kirch
nearly chewed her ears off, even when she tried to describe them in
nicer ways, such as "the director of size with the mole on his lip"
or "the vertically challenged director", but at last she eventually
obtained all the correct names.
At the time of the meeting, though, the only thing that
concerned Jane was the need to take down what was said as
accurately as she could. The problem was that she had a terrible
time figuring out what they were talking about. There was
reference to the Rule 16(b)(4) report, but since Jane had no idea
what the rule or the report referred to, she was basically
clueless. She listened intently as they referred to the report,
but it was impossible to pick up anything about it from the
content.
"I'm troubled by the implications contained in the 16(b)(4)
report," said Mr. Pimplelip.
"I thought we went over this at the last meeting," said Mr.
Bad Wig.
"The figures you want will be out by the next meeting," said
Doctor Drool, feverishly dabbing his lips. A saliva stream which
caught on a dabbing napkin was flipped off by a swing of Dr.
Drool's hand and landed on the suited shoulder of the director next
to him, who appeared not to notice.
Even when Jane could make some sense of what they were talking
about, she rarely could figure out how the directors agreed to
resolve the problem at issue.
For example, at one point the directors were discussing
whether or not to approve an audit.
"So do we approve the audit, or do we order the matter
concluded?" said Mr. Floppy Ears.
"We should approve it, but we should also consider the
implications of attaching the first exhibit to the report," said
Mr. Pimplelip.
"The answer to your question is yes," said Doctor Drool,
addressing Mr. Floppy Ears.
Yes? The question concerned approval, or ordering (whatever
ordering was). What kind of answer was yes?
Mr. Kirch was taking sporadic notes, but Jane couldn't afford
that luxury, as she never knew what might be important, so she was
scribbling madly aware, forced to use shorthand wherever possible--
Mr. Pimplelip became "PLip" and Doctor Drool became "Drool". But
it still wasn't fast enough at times. At one point Doctor Drool
read the results of a report that Jane didn't have, reading off a
long string of numbers so fast that the saliva didn't merely stream
but rushed out of his mouth like Niagara Falls. Jane couldn't
scribble fast enough, missed one number, started to go back, missed
another, and then just tried to keep up with the rest. When he was
done Doctor Drool looked down to find the top layer of his notes
splattered with saliva. Some of it even poured over the edge of
the tabletop onto his tie and lap. But everyone pretended not to
notice.
Finally it was time for the lunch break, and everyone stopped
to eat. Jane wondered how much longer this was to go on for. She
got up, stretching cautiously under Kirch's eye. The directors
were lining up for sandwiches and Jane moved to join the end of the
line.
She felt a harsh hand on her elbow. "Not until everyone else
is in line," said Kirch.
Jane looked around. All the other directors were on line!
And then Kirch moved in front of her. Oh.
Kirch was standing behind the last director, who happened to
be Doctor Drool. Actually, there was little coincidence that he
was the last director, for the other directors had rushed forward
to get their food first, perhaps out of fear that the good Doctor
would orally precipitate over the platters of sandwiches. Jane
watched carefully as she saw Doctor Drool look over the food. He
seemed to have his bodily juices under control when he wasn't
speaking and when his mouth was closed. Doctor Drool rotated his
head over the food, as he quickly made his decision.
And then Jane caught it, a glint of light, reflecting just off
the edge of his lip. A small smidgen, perhaps left over from an
earlier downpour. It seemed steadily anchored to the Doctor's
mouth... it swayed... it stayed put. Doctor Drool decided on his
selection, picked up his sandwich to go-
And the director with the Droopy Dog cheeks comes up to Doctor
Drool, pounds him on the back, and said, "Bob! I haven't seen you
in ages!"
"Hey, Fred," said Drool.
And with those two words the floodgates opened. A stream of
saliva shot out of Drool's mouth, landing on the left side of the
platter. Drool looked down at the platter, and then over to Kirch
and Jane, and then looked hastily away, as if nothing had happened.
Kirch glared at Jane with those big wide eyes of his, as if it
were all her fault. Why did he do that? Jane wasn't the one who
made him drool over the food!
Kirch turned his attention back to the food, looking over the
platter carefully.
There was very little choice, as most of the sandwiches had
been taken by the other directors, who had the good sense to be on
line early. There was a small assortment of sandwiches on the left
side of the platter, which had received a direct hit, but there
were also two sandwiches off to the right, a chicken cutlet
sandwich and a moldy looking ham sandwich. Kirch quickly took the
chicken cutlet.
Then it was decision time for Jane. She peeled back the top
layer of bread to look at the ham. It seemed a little... old, but
not obviously spoiled. With scant enthusiasm she picked it up, and
took a can of soda.
When Jane resumed her seat she immediately lost her appetite.
She was seated opposite Doctor Drool. If the man drooled when he
opened his mouth to talk, he practically flooded when he opened his
mouth to eat. Saliva flowed over freely onto his plate. Jane
watched with disgust at the spectacle, and then forced herself to
look away. She noticed that the other directors, even those
engaging in direct conversation with the good Doctor, were all
looking away.
Jane forced herself to bit into the sandwich. It tasted
stale. She quickly put it down.
The afternoon session began very quickly. The temperature in
the room was hot, or it felt that way to Jane, and she was tired of
sitting in that chair for hours on end. As the discussion rolled
along she found she had trouble staying awake, much less focused on
the discussion. She just wanted to scream. Help! I cannot take
this anymore! Let me out! Let me out! But outwardly she stayed
silent, by sheer force of effort.
And the meeting continued on. "-the discussion of the
previous meeting was tabled in favor of a motion to review the
documents at a later date-" and on and on and on.
Jane forced herself to stay conscious. She took deep, long
breaths. She pinched her big toe against her second biggest toe.
She used her hand beneath the table to repeatedly pinch her lower
leg. She tried to think of things which would excite her, such as
leaving the firm, but that started her daydreaming, about a better
life, and before she knew it...
"...on to the next issue."
Jane sat up with a jerk. She looked at her watch. It was 2
PM.
The last time she had looked at her watch it was ten after
one. What had happened in the past 50 minutes?
Suddenly, Jane was in a panic. Adrenaline pumped into her
bloodstream. Suddenly she had the energy to pay attention and stay
awake. She managed to get through the rest of the meeting without
nodding off once.
Afterwards, on the ride back to the firm (it was only five
blocks away, but being self-important lawyers, of course, they took
a cab), Kirch said nothing to Jane. If he had been aware of her
spacing out, he made no sign of it. Jane clutched her redweld
filled with documents but said nothing.
As they stepped out of the car Jane noticed someone familiar
coming out of the porno bookshop next door. It was David Kapnick.
Jane raised an eyebrow but just said nothing.
"I was never in there before, I was just curious," said
Kapnick, reddening.
Kirch gave him a knowing smile.
Jane did not acknowledge his existence.
The next day, Jane attempted to put some sense to her notes.
Her notes looked more like captions from a Dick Tracey cartoon than
minutes of a board of directors.
Fatty Droopy Jowls: Stop talking about the report!
PLip: It's number 14, not number 17!
Squinty Man: Agrees with numbers.
"So how was it?" Talman leered, bouncing back and forth on his
toes. David Kapnick, a coke in hand, stood in the background.
"Fine," said Jane, shrugging. She wasn't going to give him
any pleasure.
Talman burst out hysterically, laughing. "Pay up!" he said,
turning to Kapnick. "I told you she'd try to deny it."
Doctor Lunch took a dollar bill out of his pocket, handed it
to Talman. "I'm very disappointed in you, Jane," he said.
"Why?" said Jane.
"Leaving food on my chair. If I hadn't smelled it first, I
might have sat on it."
"Well, you shouldn't leave half eaten food on my desk," said
Jane stubbornly.
Kapnick sat on her desk. Jane refused to shrink back.
"Jane, do you know what I am?"
Jane had a few ideas, some of the witty, but sat mute.
"I'm a third year associate," said Kapnick. "And you're a
first year associate. That means I'm senior to you. I'm your
superior."
"With superior rights to litter?" said Jane.
"Don't tangle with me," said Kapnick, getting up off her desk.
"If you want to survive at this firm, Jane girl, you're either
going to have to get along, or show the partners a little
cleavage," he added, just as he went out the door.
Jane was openmouthed. What a dirty lecherous mind! He
thought that every woman who got ahead did it by sleeping with the
boss. But then Jane thought about Bart. Bart seemed to do a fair
amount of fooling around... but that was only with Dana, not the
female attorneys. Or was it? Who had been that mystery woman in
his office the other day?
Jane was so inner directed that she didn't even notice the
half finished can of coke, sitting square in the center of her
desk.
Jane began her most pressing task, trying to analyze her
notes. Where to begin? What format to put it in?
Whoa. This can't have been the first time that someone had
done these sorts of minutes. They must be stored somewhere... in
files? No, that would mean crossing Ivan, the file room dragon.
But what about on computer? The problem again was access. Jane
certainly couldn't ask her secretary for help... but the terminal
in the library might be free... if she went up there, Moss might
try to force her to shelve books again, but it was a risk worth
taking....
Stealthily Jane made her way down to the library. Moss's door
was closed, and there was the strong smell of smoke in the air.
Good. Holding back the urge to cough, Jane moved to one of the
empty consoles-
But before her fingers could touch the keypad there was a
crash and the door opened. It was Moss. "Jane! I was just
thinking about you."
Jane started typing. "I'm busy."
"You always say that when you come here. I have a lot of
books that have to be shelved."
"Shelf'vm yourself," Jane suggested. "Or get Tim to help
you." She looked meaningfully at Moss. She had never seen Talman
working in the library, nor did she ever think she would.
That shut Moss up, and he actually started shelving the books
himself, muttering all the while about "bitchy ungrateful
attorneys", but Jane just ignored him.
She searched the appropriate client matter number. Sure
enough, past minutes of the board of directors for Reid Industries
were stored on file! Evidently Kirch hadn't thought it important
to tell her that.
Jane printed out several sets from past meetings, and then she
relaxed a bit. With this information it was obvious that certain
deliberative aspects were repeated from meeting to meeting. Jane
breathed a sign of relief. She wouldn't be starting out totally in
the dark.
Over the course of the next three days Jane labored over the
minutes. Kirch never mentioned them, indeed, he didn't seem to
care, he just stared at her with those big bug eyes whenever they
passed in the hallway.
Jane worked over the minutes, slowly piecing them together.
There were gaps, of course, areas where Jane either didn't fully
comprehend what was going on, or had partially fallen asleep, or
hadn't write fast enough. But when she was done she at least felt
that she had gotten a good part of the way to getting the minutes
done correctly. She handed them to Kirch, who accepted them
without comment.
The storm struck two days later.
"Why did you do this?" said Kirch, his bug eyes unusually
large. He tossed Jane's minutes back to her like a frisbee. Jane
looked over the comments... and felt relieved. A good three
quarters of them were small, grammatical changes. Only now and
then would Kirch write "WHY?" in big letters or "WHAT? WERE WE AT
THE SAME MEETING?". Jane kept her calm and turned to one of the
comments. "Your comment on page four, where you write FIX, in big
letters... could you elaborate on that?" She showed him the
passage.
Kirch fixed those large searchlights on Jane. "It's all part
of the secured transaction question-" He stopped himself, realizing
something. "Secured transactions. Didn't you ever take a course
on secured transactions?"
Jane had to admit that she hadn't.
"WHAT KIND OF EDUCATION DID YOU HAVE! HOW DID YOU EVER
GRADUATE FROM LAW SCHOOL! WHAT KIND OF IDIOT ARE YOU, YOU STUPID
GIRL!" he screamed.
That was her breaking limit. Jane couldn't take it any more.
She fled his office, holding back sobs.
"-I can't take it anymore I can't take it anymore!" said Jane.
"It's been 114 days! I've had enough!"
She was at home, talking to Denise on the phone.
"Easy, Jane, take it easy," said Denise.
"That Kirch is horrible! They're all horrible!"
"You've got to get a grip on yourself," said Denise.
"I want to quit! Right now! Kirch is a sexist jerks, they're
all sexist jerks!"
"Jane!"
"Quit! I want to Quit, Quit Quit Quit!"
"Jane! Get a hold of yourself!" said Denise. "You can't
quit."
"Why not?" Jane was defiant.
"No one's going to hire you when you've only been working for
100 days-"
"114 days," said Jane.
"114 days," said Denise. "It will look like you did something
wrong. You have to stay longer."
"Longer? How much longer?"
Denise mumbled something.
"What? What was that?" said Jane.
"Maybe two years."
The screams echoed throughout Jane's small apartment.
Eventually Denise got her calmed down, at least a little.
"You've got to be strong, Jane."
Jane's eyes were focused on a faraway corner of her apartment,
but her mind was not focusing on the roach bodies, nor the worker
ants industriously carrying them away.
"Jane, you've got to be tough. Don't let them beat you! Are
you going to let them beat you?"
Them. It was them versus her. It was a battle, a battle of
wills, and Jane was engaged in mortal combat with the firm. If
Jane let the firm best her she would be decimated. That was what
they wanted, to break her, to make her their legal slave. A stupid
girl, that was what they had called her. They thought because she
was a woman, that she was less able. They wanted to break her
spirit, to make her a meek harem girl.
No. She wasn't going to give them what they wanted. She
wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Not today, not ever.
"No." Jane said aloud, surprised to hear her own voice. Her
tone hardened. "No, I won't."
The next day Jane revised the minutes as best she could, with
as little fuss as possible. Anything she didn't understand she
simply passed by. There was no way she was going to go back to
Kirch for guidance. When she was done she marched square into his
office, put the revised minutes on his desk, looked him square in
the eye, and said, "My revisions," and marched out.
One day passed, and then a second, and then a third and a
forth. Jane never again heard about that set of minutes.
Jane returned to her routine of performing small research
assignments and bits of proofreading. At one point she found it
necessary to go to the fileroom to retrieve a document from the
files. This would require her to do battle with Ivan, the file
room man. Be tough, Jane, be tough, she told herself. Jane took
a deep breath, and made her way to the file room.
She had not gotten more than three steps into the room when
she heard the word, "Halt!"
The speaker was Alberto, Ivan's assistant.
"Do not cross that line!" said Alberto, indicating a taped
line on the ground in front of Jane's feet. "Can't you see the
sign?" he snarled.
Sure enough, on the wall was a sign which read "STOP AT ENTRY
LINE."
Jane sighed. She was already sick and tired of these games.
"What is your purpose?" Alberto said, acting as if he were a
sentry at a guard post challenging her.
"I want to look at one of the files," said Jane.
"Do you have an appointment?" Alberto asked.
"An appointment? To see the files?" Jane was incredulous.
"No appointment, no entry," said Alberto, being firm. "We
can't just allow every Tom, Dick and Jane to show up here,
unannounced."
"Listen, you...."
"Take your foot back over the line!"
Jane, startled, took a step back.
"What's all the commotion?" came an angry voice. It was the
file room man himself, Ivan. He was a tall but painfully thin man.
He fixed an angry glare at Jane. "I'm trying to do delicate work
here. What sort of problems are you causing?"
Jane returned the glare. "I'm just trying to look at one of
the files."
"Do you have an appointment?"
Jane sighed again.
"Don't huff and puff at me, young lady. Answer the question.
Do you have an appointment?"
"No," said Jane.
"Therefore access is denied. You'll have to make an
appointment if you want to come in," said Ivan firmly.
At that moment Talman entered the room. He walked right past
the tapeline, winked at Alberto, and went into the main filing
area.
Jane was almost speechless. What was going on here? "You
just let him through!"
"Well, yes," said Ivan. "Uh... he had an appointment."
What a load of bullshit! Talman could go through without an
"appointment", but Jane, a woman, needed one. Once again she was
being treated like a second class citizen. No, she corrected
herself, she would only be a second class citizen if she let them.
Jane walked over the line and stood inches from Ivan. He was a
little taller than her, but she was heavier. "I'd like to make an
appointment," said Jane, clenching her fists and speaking softly.
"Get back over the line!" said Alberto, grinning widely.
"I'd like to make an appointment for right now," said Jane,
softly again.
Ivan took a step back. "You'll have to fill out the
paperwork-"
"I'll fill out the same paperwork that tiny Tim did," snapped
Jane. She brushed past Ivan and made her way into the file room.
She passed a shelf where she saw Talman, grinning from ear to ear.
Jane ignored him, although she noticed that his head only came up
to the forth level of shelves, while she was at easy eye contact
with the fifth.
After a short time of searching Jane found the proper folder
she was looking for and started searching through it. Suddenly she
felt a hand on her shoulder. "You're in a lot of trouble, girl."
Jane froze, recognizing Ivan's voice. Without looking up she
said, "You'd better take your hand off me."
"Or what?" said Ivan challengingly.
Jane looked up at him, and murder was in her eyes. "Or I'll
kick your ass."
Ivan slowly withdrew his hands.
"I'll be leaving now," said Jane. "I'm borrowing this file."
"You'll have to fill out a form," said Ivan.
"No," said Jane, marching out. "You will."
"You haven't heard the last of this!" said Ivan.
Jane turned one last time to face him. "Wanna bet?"
Jane felt better the minute she had gotten out of there.
There! She had toed the line, face to face, with one of the enemy,
and she hadn't blinked; he had.
She was in such a good mood that she roamed around the halls
for a few minutes, enjoying her newfound victory. When she passed
Sam Bertow's office he said, "Hey! Why the grin?"
Jane explained how she had just bested the beast of the file
room.
Bertow shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that, Jane."
"Why?" she asked defiantly.
"Ivan has connections here. He's part of the old boy's
network."
"I don't give a damn about the old boy's network!" she flared.
"What was I to do, fill out an appointment slip? Is that what you
do?"
"No," Bertow admitted. "No one does."
"You see! I was being singled out!"
"He was just testing you," said Bertow. "If you had been
friendlier, he wouldn't have given you any trouble."
"Friendlier? The man wouldn't know friendliness if it reared
up and bit him on the rump! And what about you, were you 'tested'
by Ivan?"
"Well... no," Bertow admitted.
"Or Tim Talman? Or David Kapnick? Or any of the other men?
Somehow, I don't think so."
"Now hold on, Jane. Don't make this into a gender issue,"
said Bertow.
"I'm not making it into a gender issue, it is a gender issue!"
Jane flared. "And I will never accept second class status simply
because I'm a woman!"
Bertow said, "Lower your voice." He paused for a moment, and
then spoke in a lower voice himself. "I tell you again, if you do
make this into a gender issue, you'll lose. Why don't you consider
what you're doing to cause this problem?"
"Me?"
"Every conflict between two parties has two sources. One
person can't be difficult without the other person's help."
"What? What planet have you been living on?"
"I'm not saying it's all your fault," said Bertow soothingly.
"But you must recognize your contribution to the problem."
"My contribution? What is my contribution?"
"Your assertiveness, your combativeness...."
"Forgive me, but everyone here is combative. If I don't
defend myself I'm going to be paved over," said Jane. She spun out
of his office. "Forgive me. I've taken enough of your time."
The Christmas season was fast approaching and before Jane knew
it she was closing in on the weekend before New Year's, which was
a three day weekend. That very Thursday she gave herself a self-
satisfied grin; she had plans to go skiing with friends from
college in New Hampshire on Saturday, and to spend the rest of the
holiday, including Monday, with her parents. And it didn't seem
like work would prevent her from going. At least, it didn't seem
that way.
That very day Jane was given a new assignment from Mr. Kirch.
She first got wind of it when she noticed large boxes being loaded
into the empty office next door to her. The office had been vacant
ever since she had arrived at the firm. It had seemed kind of odd
at the time that she and Talman were forced to share offices when
there was a vacant one next door, but it had been explained to Jane
that this was a senior associate sized office, so it would have
been improper to put either her or Talman in there.
But now the room was filled with many, many crates of large
boxes. As to what was in them, Jane didn't have a clue.
Unfortunately she was about to find out.
"I have a job for you, Jane," said Mr. Kirch, coming into her
office. "Have you ever done any due diligence?"
Jane noticed Talman grinning from ear to ear, and for once she
understood why. Due diligence was the bane of every corporate
lawyer, the lowliest work one could do (short of proofreading). It
entailed reading hundreds (or thousands) of documents to analyze
them for any liabilities that might incur to the target
corporation. In short, it was real drudge work.
"No," said Jane, hoping this would get her out of this.
"Then you're about to start," said Kirch. He turned to see
Talman quickly trying to suppress his smile. "Don't look so
pleased. You're going to help too."
"Me?" said Talman, genuinely surprised. "But I'm working on
the Bakersfield transaction-"
"I talked with Teitelbaum. He can spare you," said Kirch.
"Now come on," he said.
They followed him into the next room. Boxes filled the area
from ceiling to floor.
"Here's a list of all the docs," said Kirch, handing it to
Jane. Jane looked at the list quickly. There were 78 boxes in the
room! Kirch gestured to the list. "Jane, I want you to take the
first 50 boxes. Tim, you do the rest."
"What?" That was patently unfair.
"The first 50 boxes contain basic contracts," said Kirch.
"The last 28 contain more complex sorts of agreements that the
company has entered into." The implication that Jane couldn't
handle something more complicated was not lost on her. "Now, we
need a memo on this done by Tuesday morning. Any questions?
Good!" He walked out.
"Wait a minute," said Jane, after he had left. "How do we do
this due diligence? What are we looking for? I've never done this
before!"
Talman just looked at her pityingly, slicking back his hair
slightly. Jane noticed that lately Talman had started putting some
greasy substance in it that made it shine under the office lights.
"We just look for relevant things," said Talman, giving a
grin.
Relevant things. That explained a lot. Jane wasn't a total
idiot. She knew generally that diligence required one to look for
obligations and potential liabilities set forth in the documents in
question. Well, that would have to do.
Jane felt more than a little cross that Talman had gotten a
smaller portion of the work. He seemed to be getting the part of
the assignment that was slightly more prestigious. Jane also had
a sneaking suspicion that Talman's assignment really wasn't much
harder than hers.
She sighed. Well, it could have been worse. They could have
made her do all of it.
Before Jane had gotten through the first box she knew she was
going to have to cancel her skiing trip. It had taken her three
hours just to get through one box. Even if she speeded up
significantly there was no way she was going to complete 50 boxes
by tomorrow. Sighing, she called her friends.
Jane worked until midnight on the boxes, and Talman did the
same. She noticed that he kept looking up at her as she did the
work and then eyeing his watch. Finally when she packed up for the
night he did too, demanding, "How far did you get?"
Jane told him that she had completed nearly three boxes.
"I did three and a half," he said, smirking.
If that were true, Talman's statement only confirmed Jane's
suspicion that Talman's documents were no harder than hers. They
had just rewarded him with a lighter workload.
Jane got in bright and early the following day. The
arithmetic was grim and unrelenting. It was now Friday. She had
47 boxes to complete by Tuesday morning. That meant completing a
little more than fifteen boxes a day. Jane had taken a little more
than two hours to complete each box. At that rate she would need
to work 30 hours a day. This was impossible. She went to Mr.
Kirch.
Kirch fixed those huge bulbous eyes on her the minute she set
foot in the door. "What?"
Jane explained how it would be impossible to complete her
workload in the time permitted.
"Stop whining. If you're not up to the task, girl, I'll find
someone else who is." He looked down at his papers again. She had
already been dismissed.
Jane was speechless. How to respond to such blatant sexism?
She gritted her teeth, and left his office. So, they thought she
was an untalented girl, did they? She would show them.
Jane sat down and got to work. Speed was of the essence, and
she found that the documents were of a repetitious nature and in
time she could go through them much more rapidly than she had at
the beginning. And so she did, not stopping for breaks or even for
lunch, just grinding through them. Going through the documents was
a very mechanical task, and Jane found she could save a lot of time
by skimming most sections and only reading closely when it came to
analyzing sections dealing with representations and warranties and
indemnification. The work was mind-deadening but Jane just kept
going, not even paying attention to anything around her.
In fact she was only peripherally aware of an event that
occurred at 5:30 in the afternoon that she only later attached a
much greater importance to.
Talman was out in the hallway, speaking to someone. Jane
wasn't paying attention to the words, but she later realized that
he was talking to Mr. Kirch.
Words flowed between them but Jane just heard them as sounds.
Then she heard Talman give a positive exclamation and a laugh. He
came into the office, scooped up some things, and left.
Still Jane ignored everything, focusing on her work. She
worked late into the night, long after everyone was gone. They
thought she was inferior, did they? They thought she couldn't hack
it. Well, she would show them.
At one point she cast a quick glance at Talman's desk. Yes,
he could afford to leave early, he had half the workload. And then
Jane turned back to her work....
At around 3 AM when she was nodding off she decided to go home
for a quick nap. But there was a satisfied gleam in her eye; she
had completed a total of 20 boxes, three more than her schedule
required.
The alarm rang several minutes before Jane realized what was
happening. It was 8 AM. Time to get up. She trudged back to work
in sweats, sloshing through the midwinter's snow, realizing there
was no need to be dressed up. Not until Tuesday.
Jane sat at her desk and worked through the day, only pausing
to order food in and to quickly gobble it down as she kept up the
frantic pace. She noticed that by mid afternoon Talman had still
not made an appearance and she wondered in passing where he was.
Was he planning to work all Sunday and Monday on his part of the
job? That was still possible.
She worked through much of the night and then collapsed, at
her desk, at around 3 AM. When she woke up it was 10 AM and Jane
cursed her foolishness quickly, but didn't have time for further
recriminations: without so much as a bite to each, she returned to
her work. She was singleminded now, fixated on her task, being
driven harder by the Kirch's snide comments that still burned in
her ears.
But singleminded or no, Jane couldn't help but notice that
Talman didn't show up on Sunday either, and then Jane started to
wonder. There was no way he could complete his portion of the
assignment on Monday; where had he gone?
But Talman was not her primary concern and the boxes stacked
before her were. By about midnight on Sunday Jane felt burned out
and she desperately needed to take a break. She couldn't focus on
the work anymore, and her mind actually hurt when she looked at one
of those contracts.
But she had completed 39 boxes and was ahead of schedule. Now
where was Talman? How did he expect to complete his 28 boxes by
Tuesday morning? What was going on here?
Jane quickly found her worn out mind drifting to other
thoughts. She started walking the hallways, doing slow laps. After
eight such laps she promised herself that she would get back to
work on the tenth lap. But on the tenth lap she promised herself
she would go back to work on the fifteenth. Somehow she just
couldn't get herself to focus; she was mentally exhausted.
It felt as if she were wandering in a graveyard, a gloomy
deserted cemetery. And one empty room beckoned to her....
Suddenly she heard a creaking sound, as if a door was opening.
She was used to hearing such anomalous sounds when the firm was
empty; it was just the building making its normal noises. But this
one sounded different.
As Jane made another lap, though, she saw a sign of movement!
She instinctively ducked behind a secretary's desk, and peered over
it cautiously.
It was Mr. Kentrust! Looking this way and that, he entered
his office, turning on the light and closing the door behind him.
Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that explained that.
Or did it? What was Mr. Kentrust doing here this late on a sunday
night?
Jane had had little contact with Harry Kentrust, and she was
glad of it. He was reputed to be quite a screamer, and Jane could
often hear his yellings two corridors away. Yet she had also heard
vague whispers that there was something weird about Mr. Kentrust...
something unusual... but Jane didn't know quite what it was....
She continued to do a few more laps around the halls. Mr.
Kentrust's door remained firmly closed. Finally Jane resolved to
get back to work after one more lap.
And it was on this last lap that the door to Mr. Kentrust's
door opened.
Jane again instinctively ducked behind a secretary's desk.
There was no reason for her to be hiding; she had a perfectly
legitimate reason to be here. And yet she found herself peering
out of the gloom from behind an office PC.
A woman came out of Mr. Kentrust's office. She had long,
flowing blonde hair and was wearing a bright red dress. And then
she turned off the light to Mr. Kentrust's office and headed
towards the direction of the elevators.
This struck Jane as totally bizarre. Who was this woman?
Where had she come from? And where was Mr. Kentrust? She hadn't
seen anyone else coming or going. Perhaps Mr. Kentrust had left
while she had been on the other side of the hall. But why would he
leave his lady friend behind? It just didn't make sense.
Well, wherever Mr. Kentrust was now, it wasn't in his office,
which was firmly dark and empty.
Jane put this minor mystery behind her and found the strength
to get back to work.
She had a smaller amount left to complete but her rate of
document review was much slower now because of her fatigue. She
found she needed to take more and longer rest breaks in order to
keep working at all. Finally on Monday afternoon when she had 47
boxes done she felt she could work no longer. But then the
smirking remarks of Mr. Kirch came back to her, and she forced
herself to continue. Each page was agony. Her notetaking pen felt
as heavy as lead, but Jane kept going.
Finally she finished around 7 PM, and she just collapsed.
When Jane woke around Midnight on Monday, she realized she
wasn't yet done. The memo still had to be typed and edited.
Jane got to work. She felt a little bit of relief that she
could work on the computer in the library without being badgered to
shelve books. At that point it didn't occur to her to be angry
that she had been forced to work 20 hours a day over New Years
weekend, or to wonder why she hadn't seen Talman at any time since
Friday.
Finally at 5 AM on Monday morning she felt it was reasonably
done. It would never be judged a masterpiece, and Jane was
prepared for all of Kirch's red-penned comments she would receive,
but she could at least say she had completed the job with an honest
face.
Jane went home for the first time since Saturday. Her head
was asleep the minute she touched the pillow. Somehow she forced
herself to get up at 8 AM, after less than three hours of sleep.
Mr. Kirch had said he needed the report first thing tuesday
morning. If she were late she would never hear the end of it.
Jane was curious as to what kind of memo Talman would turn in.
Was the man going to pretend he had completed the assignment and
turn in a bogus memo? How could he get away with such a thing?
And yet this was the only alternative she could conceive of.
When she got to work she saw that Talman was already there.
"You look like a mess," said Talman, sneering slightly. "How
was your weekend? It must've been a blast."
Jane ignored him. She wasn't even interested in how he
planned to explain his assignment. Instead she picked up her memo
and brought it to Kirch's office.
Kirch was in unseasonably early. Most partners didn't usually
get in until 10:30, but at half past nine at Tolcott Teitelbaum,
Kirch was sitting in his office, undoubtedly eager to get his hands
on the due diligence memos.
Jane plopped her detail-packed memo down on Kirch's desk.
"Here's the memo!" she said triumphantly.
Kirch looked mildly surprised. He looked first at the memo
then up at her. "What memo?"
It hit Jane like a ton of bricks. "The due diligence
memo...."
"Due diligence?" Kirch frowned. His face screwed up in anger.
"Don't tell me you actually did it!"
"What do you mean! You told me to!" said Jane, raising her
voice. What kind of idiocy was this?
"It was called off on Friday," said Kirch. "Didn't you know?"
"Called off?" Jane was stunned. She managed to get out, "How
was I supposed to know!"
For once Kirch was on the defensive. "We were talking about
it, right outside your door on Friday afternoon. Didn't Tim tell
you?"
"He didn't tell me anything!" Jane shouted.
"Gee, that's too bad," said Kirch. "The deal fell through.
Did you work a lot on it?"
Speechless, Jane fled his office. She returned to her own
office, slamming the door closed. She immediately pounded on
Talman's desk. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Talman looked up at her with innocent eyes, but didn't play
stupid. "We were talking right outside the office. I assume you
heard."
"I didn't!" Her nostrils flared; Jane looked ready to kill.
"Easy!" said Talman, crouching back a little, which made him
look shorter than he was. "Kirch didn't tell me to tell you; we
both presumed you heard. Don't take it out on me."
Jane flung the door open, and stomped down the hallway. She
marched into Mr. Teitelbaum's office, but only the secretary was
there, cleaning up some papers.
Jane looked at her watch. "Don't tell me; he's still at
breakfast, right?" Without waiting for a response she marched out.
Well, if she couldn't complain to the head of the department, there
was one other source she could go to. The man who had recruited
her.
"Jane," said Bart in a monotone, facing away as she entered
the office. He seemed to know it was her even before she said a
word. Perhaps word of her displeasure had spread quickly, or
perhaps he had heard her screaming down the hall.
"I busted a gut working day and night for the past four days!"
Jane yelled. "I haven't slept eight hours in the past four days!"
Bart turned to face her. "I can see you're excited, Jane."
"You're damn right I'm excited!" said Jane. "The others knew
and they got a good laugh from it. I practically killed myself
over the past four days!"
"Let's not exaggerate," said Bart. "I was just about to call
you in anyway for another assignment-"
"Another assignment! Bart, maybe you haven't heard me, but I
haven't slept in the past four days-"
"-but maybe it can wait until tomorrow. Why don't you go
home, get some sleep, and then come back tomorrow?" Bart suggested.
When Jane arrived home that morning the first thing she
noticed was her flashing answering machine. Because she was pumped
up with adrenaline she didn't feel sleepy at the moment and started
returning calls. Jane reached her mother at work.
"Jane, I was getting worried. I called you several days ago,"
said Mrs. Sommers.
"I've been working day and night, Mother," said Jane, matter
of factly.
"Day and night? Over New Years weekend? Couldn't you just
tell your employers you weren't going to work that weekend?" She
simply had no concept of what lawyers did or how they functioned.
Jane sighed, telling the whole story. "Now do you see why I'm
so angry?"
"Dear, you shouldn't be angry. You should be thinking of
trying to do better next time."
"Doing better? What? How?"
"It sounds to me that you would have known that the project
was canceled if you had had closer relations with the other lawyers
there."
"Closer relations?"
"Dear, you told me you never mixed with your roommate.
Perhaps if you talked with him more, became his friend-"
"Mom, Talman's a slob! No, I take that back, David Kapnick is
the slob. Tim Talman is a slimy little weasel who is constantly
trying to cut me down--"
"Dear, dear, you have to read these books on office politics.
They say-"
"I don't give a damn what they say!" Jane raged. "The fucking
books don't have to work there everyday, I do!"
Her mother attempted to calm her down, but Jane was
tremendously irritated.
"Jane, you can't be so thin skinned," said her mother.
"Thin skinned! Mom, you haven't seen this place!" said Jane.
"The book says that you have to butter up your superiors-"
"Mom, my superiors, as you call them, are all slobs and
lechers!" said Jane.
"Perhaps you could talk to Mr. Teitelbaum. He would make an
excellent men-tor-"
"Mom, gotta go, bye," said Jane mechanically, hanging up
quickly.
Jane paused, taking deep breaths. She decided to call Denise,
who was also at work, and tell her what had happened.
Denise said something surprising. "Your mother was right."
"What???"
"In a sense," said Denise. "You aren't mixing well with the
others. But it isn't really your fault. There's an old boys
network in operation here. Tell me, when Kirch found out that the
project was canceled, who did he tell?"
"Talman," said Jane, starting to understand.
"Did he tell you?"
"No, but he was right outside my office...."
"How much effort would it have taken for him to come in and
tell you?" said Denise. "None. I'm not saying he did what he did
maliciously, I'm saying he did what he did because he just didn't
care. Why do you think you got the lion's share of the grudge
work?"
"I don't know," said Jane.
"You told me that he's called you 'girl'. I think he thinks
of you as a girl, and treats you that way."
"Gender discrimination," said Jane, getting a lump in her
throat. She already knew it in her heart, but it was hard to deal
with the ironclad fact. "So what should I do?"
"Right now there's not much you can do. We don't have any
proof," said Denise. "All I can say is to keep your eyes open and
do what you can to take care of yourself."
"Keeping my eyes open?" said Jane. "I'm on the verge of
falling asleep!" But she felt an inner rage, and it was some hours
before she was in fact able to fall asleep.
The next day everyone at work acted as if nothing had
happened. Everyone except Jane. She didn't want to start another
fight, but there was one more issue that had to be raised, and that
meant seeing Kirch again, even if she had to endure another
unpleasant encounter. Steeling herself, Jane went into Kirch's
office and asked him, "How do you want me to bill the time I spent
this weekend?"
"Bill it? Why would you bill it at all?" said Kirch, looking
oddly at Jane, as if she had just landed from the moon.
Jane said nothing, but left his office. So they wouldn't even
give her credit for the work she had done. How typical. Well,
Jane didn't care; she was getting paid the same amount whether she
billed that work or not. So what should she do now? Suddenly Jane
realized she had no work. She was making her way to Tolcott's
office to get her next assignment when she was collared by Heidi
Blakelock. "Psst!" she said, motioning for Jane to come into her
office.
Jane did, and Blakelock quickly closed the door behind her.
A stack of redwelds that had been haphazardly piled nearby
collapsed to the ground, but both Jane and Blakelock ignored the
mess. "Have you heard the news?" said Blakelock.
"News? What news?" said Jane conspiratorially. What was
happening?
"Dick Brant is leaving," said Blakelock.
"Dick Brant!" said Jane, sounding surprised. And she was.
For an associate to leave a firm was very commonplace, and it
happened everyday, especially at larger firms. But for a partner
to leave a firm? That was almost unheard of! Partners enjoyed
financial security; in fact, they enjoyed quite a high level of
financial security. For a partner to leave a firm must mean that
something was terribly, terribly wrong. Was Tolcott Teitelbaum
falling apart? Jane asked the unspoken question. "Why?"
"I don't know," said Blakelock. "But I heard a rumor...."
"Yes? Go on!"
Blakelock paused dramatically, knowing she was occupying
Jane's full attention. She was a bit of a tease, but Jane
tolerated it. "I heard that Dick got really pissed off because
clients were refusing to accept our opinions."
"Our opinions?" It took a minute for that to sink in.
Blakelock was referring to the written opinions that carried the
full weight and authority of Tolcott Teitelbaum. These opinions
often gave the clients the legal cover they needed in order to take
a course of action. With millions of dollars at stake in any major
corporate action, if an opinion was based on faulty legal reasoning
it could conceivably cost a client hundreds of thousands of dollars
in fees and penalties, not to mention criminal sanctions. And
naturally faulty opinions wouldn't be very good for the issuing
firm. If clients were refusing to accept the firm's opinions, that
would mean that they didn't put much faith in Tolcott Teitelbaum's
good name!
But why? "Refusing to accept our opinions... why, were we
taking controversial decisions?"
"No, these were fairly routine opinions," said Blakelock.
"What I heard was a little... different."
Jane frowned, annoyed. She disliked the fact that Blakelock
was dragging this out. If the legal opinions themselves weren't
controversial, then what was the problem? "Yes, go on."
Blakelock looked reluctant, but she continued. "Well, we work
with a certain vice president at Federal Savings and Loan, and when
he showed our legal opinion to the president of the bank, the
president supposedly said something like "Well, who is this Tolcott
Teitelbaum? I've never heard of them! I'm not going to base a
multimillion dollar decision on a place I've never heard of." So
Dick Brant is going to Sullivan & Cromwell, a name everyone has
heard of."
Jane tried not to let her surprise show. She had turned down
Sullivan & Cromwell to come here! And now Dick Brant, a partner at
this firm, was leaving, because he didn't want to work at such an
embarrassing firm. How much worse could this day become?
"Jane, I have an assignment for you," said Bart. He spoke in
his usual monotone. Any other tone would have surprised her. Jane
hadn't heard Bart speak like a live human being since the time he
had interviewed her. It had been a clever act, and Jane rued the
day that she had ever fallen for it.
Jane nodded that she was ready, with a pen and paper in hand.
"You won't need those," Bart assured her. "I want you to go
to the Queens office and deliver a package."
Now, this was a surprise. Jane didn't even know that the firm
had a Queens office. No, wait, she did. On the firm's official
letterhead in small letters below the firm name were written the
words "Manhattan, Queens." She didn't think much of it; after all,
what major New York firm had an office in Queens? Large firms
commonly had branch offices in Los Angeles, Washington, Chicago, or
London, but... Queens? The firm really had an office in Queens?
In all her time at the firm Jane had never heard of anyone actually
working in the Queens office.
The other aspect of this assignment that should have been no
surprise was the fact that Jane was now delegated to delivering
packages. And why not? She already did secretarial and paralegal
work. Perhaps she should also perform janitorial services.
She could see it now; Jane, summoned again to Bart's office.
Bart, looking up, hands her a broom and a mop. He would say, in
his typical monotone, "Jane, I have some very important mopping for
you to do. And the client wants you to use a lot of detergent."
It was a fantasy scenario, but if Jane was now reduced to
delivering packages, how far away could such an assignment be?
Bart was speaking again, causing Jane to snap out of her
reverie.
"And bill it to 44532-0084," said Tolcott.
Of course! They were going to bill Jane out at $150 an hour
to deliver a package to a client. Now Jane knew what this package
delivery business was all about. This was all part of the firm's
revenue raising strategy. But what burned Jane was that she was
being used as a messenger girl. This assignment was only a pointed
reminder of what the old boys who ran the firm thought of her. You
wouldn't see Tim Talman or David Kapnick running these little
errands. No, only Jane was set to deliver packages. At least,
when she had free time when she wasn't shelving books.
Jane considered saying something, but she knew that whatever
came out of her mouth would just initiate more trouble. Besides,
it was hard to really get angry at Bart. He was so much like a
lifeless cadaver that it wouldn't give Jane very much pleasure. So
Jane merely nodded and departed.
A very small portion of Jane's mind was wondering where she
was going. She was on the R train going into Queens and it seems
she had already passed the business district. In fact the address
she was given was in the Forest Hills section of Queens! That was
a residential area! Just where was Bart really sending her to?
For a moment her imagination started to race.
But Jane needn't have wondered; she discovered her destination
all too quickly. After emerging from the subway, she walked two
short blocks to the north. This was definitely a residential area,
with row after row of squat, small two story homes. The icy winter
winds blew on her as she marched along the sidewalk. Well, it
could have been worse; it could have been snowing.
When she came to the right address she looked up at a modest
house fronted by a greenish lawn and squat bushes, and Jane
blinked, for there was a small sign on the lawn out in front which
read: "Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust &" and the
rest of the sign was corroded and worn off. The little sign had a
little arrow pointing to a door on the side of the home at the
basement/garage door level.
Sighing, Jane went to the door. She knocked on it with her
knuckles, and it was quickly answered by the occupant.
"What took you so long?" he snarled.
It was Mr. LaGossi.
Jane had never before had the pleasure of meeting Mr. LaGossi
face to face. He worked in the litigation department and Jane
never had very much contact with the litigation department, despite
Mr. Ailing's vociferous promises. Now for the first time since she
had desired to become a litigator at the firm Jane felt a small bit
of relief that she hadn't actually been put in the department she
had wanted.
Jane mutely followed Lagossi in. The Queens office of
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch was rather
small, composed of a desk in a basement surrounded by stacks of
books and office papers on one side, and jars of preserve stacked
on a woodworking bench on the other.
LaGossi took the package from Jane. "What are you still doing
here? You may go!" He said, pointing with his finger to indicate
that Jane could have the pleasure of finding her own way out.
Jane left. On the long subway ride back to work she had time
on her hands, and she used all of it to think. How could she
improve her lot? As things stood now she was little better than a
messenger girl, and it was obvious that she was not going to get
ahead in this firm unless she took some action.
By the time Jane had returned to work she had decided what
action she would take. She was going to march into Mr.
Teitelbaum's office and sit there for however long it took,
demanding better work. If she had to wait for him to return from
eating all three meals of the day, she would.
But, much to her surprise, Mr. Teitelbaum was actually in his
office when Jane arrived, and for once he was not on the phone or
eating some food. Jane immediately vented all her frustrations,
from not being able to work in litigation to being forced to
perform the most menial of tasks. Jane had expected to be rewarded
with some more responsible corporate work but was surprised when
Mr. Teitelbaum gave her even more than she had been bargaining for.
"So, you want litigation?" said Teitelbaum, considering. "All
right, I have a litigation assignment for you."
Well! That came easily enough. Maybe Mr. Teitelbaum wasn't
such a bad sort after all. Perhaps she should have come to him
earlier, even if it had meant sitting in his office for a few hours
waiting for him to make visits to his office in between his meals.
Perhaps Jane's mother was right, perhaps Mr. Teitelbaum would make
a good men-tor.
Jane eagerly picked up her writing pad, preparing to work.
Mr. Teitelbaum caressed his overflowing belly as he spoke.
"Here's the fact pattern: a woman divorces a man on certain
grounds. They go to court to work out amounts of alimony payments
that the man, who is employed as an attorney, will pay his wife."
"New York court?"
"Yes."
"Go on." This was exciting! Finally, her first litigation
assignment! At the moment Jane didn't consider the fact that Mr.
Teitelbaum didn't work in the litigation department. It was
litigation work, who cared about the source?
"Fine. They're in court, they negotiate a tentative amount of
alimony, and then the woman claims she should get greater alimony
to compensate her for past suffering."
"Past suffering," said Jane, frowning slightly. It sounded
like she needed more specifics. "What kind of past suffering?"
"Oh... I don't know. But take allegations of adultery, for
example." Teitelbaum avoided looking directly at Jane, wrestling
with his stomach blubber uncomfortably.
"Adultery," said Jane, meticulously writing it all down. She
started to get an uneasy feeling, but she wasn't sure why.
"What I want to know is whether under New York law the woman
can get more alimony to compensate herself for so-called past
suffering."
"Gotcha," said Jane. At last she was feeling like a lawyer!
"Client matter number?"
"99999-00001," said Teitelbaum.
Jane's smile faded. That was a nonbillable number. She
thought this was a real assignment. It wasn't. It was another
make-work task. Once more she had been relegated to the bottom of
the barrel.
"What's wrong?" said Teitelbaum, immediately seeing her change
in expression.
"I thought this was a real client," said Jane.
"It is," Teitelbaum assured her. How to explain to her? He
paused. "It's for a... a special pro bono client."
"A special pro bono client? Which one?" said Jane curiously.
"The details need to remain confidential, quite confidential.
You understand, don't you Jane?" said Teitelbaum. The girl was
kind of dense, maybe that would satisfy her.
"I see," said Jane quietly, who suddenly understood what Mr.
Teitelbaum had wished to obscure. "I'll begin at once," she said,
leaving his office.
Jane really did see. Mr. Teitelbaum had acted slobbishly
towards his wife, and, for want of any real work to give Jane, had
assigned her to perform personal research in defense of his
slobbish behavior.
The research only took her a day and a half, and Mr.
Teitelbaum did not even insist on a written memo. Perhaps he
didn't want any written evidence memorializing his request for such
research.
"Well?" said Mr. Teitelbaum, when Jane had returned to him.
"A former wife can get additional alimony if a former
husband's behavior during a marriage was flagrantly abusive."
Teitelbaum gulped. He needed more information, but it was
painful to ask. "Does flagrantly abusive include adultery?"
Jane nodded. "It can."
"Including adultery with a prostitute?"
Jane sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
Jane was often frustrated by her days at work, and she needed
some extracurricular activities to work out those frustrations.
The problem was that after a hard day at work proofreading or being
yelled at, she didn't often have the energy to go out with her
friends. So instead, after a typical day of work Jane would often
return home to play a game of bug hunt on her bathroom floor.
After changing out of her fancy dress clothes, Jane would get a
sharp toothpick, and, on her hands and knees, stab the many roaches
and ants that wandered along her bathroom floor. On any given
night she could always spear forty or fifty, and there was always
a fresh supply of insect pedestrians every hour. These safari
sessions helped Jane to work out her aggressions.
Sometimes the hunt was more interesting than others. One time
she stabbed a large spider in its web, but she merely wounded it.
A roach that was trapped in its web started wrestling with the
spider. The two wrestled for some time, but finally the spider
stung the roach, and it fell limp.
"Not fair!" Jane said. She poured a little rubbing alcohol on
the spider. At first it flinched at the wetness, but then it
tolerated it, as if it were nonchalant.
Nothing happened for a long moment. And then the alcohol
seeped into the spider's wounds. The spider flailed about wildly,
and then curled up into a little ball, and expired.
But Jane realized that bug hunting was no substitute for
contact with people, real live people. So she resolved to make
time one day and go to a meeting of the New York City Bar
Association.
The New York City Bar Association occupied a regal five story
building in midtown Manhattan with stone pillars in the front
entrance facade. A marble flooring inside led to an elegant wooden
staircase leading up to the large conference room. Jane looked in
awe at the elaborate furnishings and paintings on the wall that
were easily older than her law firm. She had never before been in
a room filled with so much wealth and prestige.
Jane found herself at a Bar Association meeting in the middle
of a Thursday afternoon (she had managed to escape from an aborted
proofreading assignment), and the topic of discussion was "Homeless
Class Action Suits", a topic that Jane was keenly interested in.
She sat quietly during the lecture, taking notes avidly.
Afterwards there was a reception, where Jane got the chance to
mingle with some of her fellow New York lawyers.
Jane got into a particularly interesting discussion with a
group of three young men on the subject of class actions. One
charismatic young man seem to pay careful attention to what Jane
was saying, smiling encouragingly whenever she spoke. Whenever
they matched glances there was a sparkle in his eyes. He was
obviously intrigued by her. After they had talked for a few
minutes the young man spoke, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.
I'm Roger Rosen."
Jane smiled appreciatively. "Jane Sommers," she said. The
other two young gentlemen introduced themselves.
"Where do you work, Jane?" said Roger.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum," said Jane quickly.
"What?" said one of the young men, a frown crossing his face.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum," said Jane. "Tolcott, Teitelbaum,
Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
The two young men flanking Roger started laughing. "What kind
of place is that!" said one.
"Is that one law firm, or two?" said the other, chuckling
hysterically.
Jane reddened.
"When you answer the phone, do you say your firm's name all in
one breath?" said one of the young men.
Jane quickly walked away, heading for the door.
"Jane, wait!" said Rosen.
But she was gone.
It was such a scarring experience for Jane that she couldn't
bring herself to return to the Bar Association ever again. It was
as if her association with Tolcott Teitelbaum was an indelible
stigma, written in bright ink on her forever, a mark of low quality
that would haunt her wherever she went.
She could now well understand why Dick Brant felt he had to
leave.
The days at Tolcott Teitelbaum passed with the swiftness of a
crippled animal dragging its worthless body to the grave, but, one
by one, the days did go by. One afternoon Jane found herself
sitting in the lunchroom eating with Heidi Blakelock and David
Kapnick. They were discussing their favorite topic, television
shows, and Jane sat mutely as they exchanged inanities.
"I think Rosanne could kick Seinfeld's ass," said Kapnick,
chewing noisily on his food. Evidently he had not yet learned
dining etiquette as far as eating and talking at the same time were
concerned. A small piece of slippery ham dropped out of his
sandwich and on to his chair. Kapnick tried to pick it up with two
thick fingers, but the piece slipped again, falling on the ground.
Kapnick picked it up, sniffed, it, shrugged, and put it in his
mouth.
"You're crazy," said Blakelock. "Seinfeld is a much more
popular show."
"No way-" said Kapnick. "He is about 200 times more funny
than Rosanne."
"Rosanne is about 300 times more funny than Seinfeld," said
Blakelock.
Jane just sat there, sitting very quietly. How had she
ever gotten involved in such an inane discussion?
"Hey, did you see 90210 last night?" Kapnick said. "Kelly did
Brandon."
"No!" said Blakelock. "No way! No way!"
90210. Wait a minute. Wasn't that the teen age soap opera?
"What was Donna's reaction?"
"She just shrugged it off," said Kapnick. "Donna's doing
Brenda, if you recall."
Jane saw this as a propitious moment to make her departure.
She was starting to stir out of her seat when she heard a new voice
behind her.
"Stalin knew better," said Ivanova, interrupting. The elderly
kitchen lady had been standing to the side, listening closely.
"Huh?" said Kapnick. What did Stalin have to do with
anything? Ivanova was always making oddball comments like that.
"In Stalin's time, it was much better. We didn't have this
garbage television." Ivanova waved her hand dismissively.
"In most of Stalin's time, they didn't have television shows,
period," said Jane, making her first contribution to the
discussion.
"Right," said Ivanova. "And young people were not so
insolent!" she said, glaring at Jane.
"Let me get this straight," said Kapnick, putting down one of
his ham sandwiches. "You think Stalin was a good ruler?"
"Yes!" said Ivanova defiantly.
"You'd like to be ruled by him right now?"
"Yes!" she said again.
"Boy lady, you're really crazy," said Kapnick.
"Crazy am I? In Russia we didn't have young people killing
young people. We no have all the drugs and rock and roll that you
do in America. There was stability, order-"
"The trains ran on time," quipped Blakelock.
"Right," said Ivanova, nodding vigorously.
"I think that was in Italy," said Jane.
"Just a moment," said Kapnick. "What about all the millions
who died under Stalin's rule?"
Ivanova shrugged. "You make omlets, some eggs get broke."
That's perfect for this firm, Jane realized. Someone who
admires the works of Stalin. How symbolic.
The following week Jane was called on to go to another meeting
of Reid Industries, only this was for the "Paperwork Flow Reduction
Subcommittee". The aim of the subcommittee might originally have
been to reduce paperwork, but the subcommittee now generated more
than its fair share of it. Jane sat through hours and hours of
discussion about "paperwork modernization procedures" and debates
over which new forms should replace which old forms. Her eyes
started to glaze over and she would have fallen asleep were it not
for the watchful bug-eyed gaze of Mr. Kirch. Jane found that the
only thing that was almost worse than sitting through the seven
hour discussion was attempting to summarize it afterwards when she
and Kirch had returned to their Tolcott Teitelbaum offices.
At one point Jane, yawning, decided to take a break by getting
some photocopies of the materials that had been handed out at the
subcommittee meeting. She walked slowly to the copy room, feeling
circulation slowly returning to her legs. When she reached the
copy room she braced herself for trouble; not for any specific
reason, but on general principal.
Jane had had difficulties in dealing with the library staff,
the file room staff, and the office administrator. There was no
reason to believe that the copy room staff would be any different,
and Jane was not disappointed.
The copy room staff consisted of two young men, one named Vito
and the other named Vic. The dress code was somewhat relaxed in
the copy room so both Vito and Vic were permitted to wear black T-
shirts and ripped dungarees. Both of them also sported a handsome
pair of masculine earrings.
Vic and Vito were very different characters. Vic was always
daydreaming, and paid little attention to the world around him. Or
maybe he was on drugs. Jane hadn't decided. Whenever Jane gave
something in to be copied, she always had to watch Vic very
carefully.
One time Jane had come in needing twenty copies of a single
page. So she had given them to Vic, and requested 20 copies.
Vic had just stood there, unblinking.
"I need them now, Vic," Jane had said gently.
"Oh," Vic had said, focusing his eyes. He had taken the
paper, put it on top of the copy machine, punched for twenty
copies, started the machine going. When the large rumbling copy
machine had completed its assigned task, Vic had returned with the
copies.
And all the pages were blank.
"Vic, I think you need to put the original under the glass.
Putting the originals on the copy machine, that just won't do it,"
Jane had advised.
Vic had nodded. He started to put it under the glass, and
Jane had said, "Vic? Vic? Why don't you just make one copy, and
we'll see how it comes out first?"
Vic had nodded. He had pressed the start button, and, twenty
copies later, he brought the results over to Jane.
The page was blank.
"Vic? Vic, please pay attention. The page is blank. Did you
put the copy under the machine?"
Vic had nodded.
"Vic, you have to put the copy face down. Please check to see
whether you did that."
Vic went to check, and flipped the paper over, making the copy
again. When he had returned to Jane with the new copy, she
inspected it, slowly nodding. It was a definite improvement; this
time there was actually print on the page.
"Not bad, Vic," Jane had said. "But you put the original on
the glass kind of crooked, see? It makes the paper come out
diagonal. Mind if we try again?"
Jane eventually received her copies. Working with Vic had
been a trying experience, and Jane continually wondered why the
firm didn't let him go. Apparently the partners didn't know about
his behavior; only secretaries and associates ever used the copy
room directly.
But much as Jane found it difficult to use Vic, she much
preferred dealing with Vic then she did with Vito.
But this time when Jane went to the copy room window she found
herself with little choice: only Vito was waiting there. Vic was
standing in a corner, happily mumbling to himself.
Jane opened her mouth to request her copies.
"What do you want!" said Vito, glaring at her. He looked
angry, as if he would kill everyone in sight if only he had had a
sharp machete at hand.
Jane didn't take it personally. Vito treated everyone this
way. Vito didn't pick on specific people; he was just a bad human
being generally. Maybe he had had a bad upbringing. Perhaps he
hadn't received enough love as a child. Jane had noticed a slight
indentation on the side of his head. Perhaps, as a child, someone
had hit him with a rock, affecting his mind. Perhaps he was in
continual pain, and needed to share it with others.
Whatever the source of Vito's emotional difficulties, Jane had
a task she needed to see completed. "I'd like some copies,
please."
Vito snatched the papers from her hand. "Some? I'm not a
mindreader, missy. Tell me what you want or stop wasting my time,"
he snarled. He reminded Jane of an angry dog leashed to a fire
hydrant on the street, baring its teeth and growling at passerbys.
"Two copies each," said Jane, gritting her teeth in turn.
"What's wrong, you can't make copies on the self-service
machines, making copies is too good for you?" said Vito, planting
his arms on his hips.
"These are 8.5" by 14" copies," said Jane with a calmness she
didn't feel. "I figured it would be easier this way."
"Easier for you, that is," said Vito. "What do you think I
do, just stand around here all day waiting to make copies?"
Actually... that was his job, wasn't it? What else was he
supposed to be doing with his time? Obviously he was just trying
to make life difficult for Jane. Perhaps he felt pleasure in
tormenting others, and now he was trying to get his ounce of flesh
from Jane.
They stood there for a time, matching glares. For a long
moment it seemed like neither was going to flinch. Then Vito
growled softly, and said, "Ok, I got your originals. What more do
you want?"
"I'd like my copies," said Jane firmly. It wasn't a
complicated request, but she always needed to keep on top of Vito.
Jane noted that he had a very short attention span where work was
concerned.
Vito ranted and raved. "Oh, well, you didn't say that you
needed them now! You just handed me the papers and said you needed
some copies. Well, since the little missy needs them now, I'll
hurry it right along," he said, with maximum sarcasm. Vito slowly
moved to the copy machine, lifting one foot after another with all
the alacrity of a shy ballerina.
Jane sighed. Every day had moments like this one.
One day Jane decided to roam the hallways, taking a break from
the daily grind. Jane got so little exercise in the job that she
often took to doing slow laps around the hallways, often slowly
reading documents as she walked. The other attorneys, thinking it
strange that one of their own was not satisfied to sit still all
day and develop a respectable gut, often stared at her as she
walked by, but Jane paid them no attention.
During one of her daily roamings Jane paid a visit to Sam
Bertow, gossiping with him for a short time. When she had finished
exchanging inanities and was about to leave, Jane, while standing
by the door to Bertow's office and looking out into the hallway,
noticed that the door to the supply room across the way had
suddenly opened. One of the corporate paralegals, Julia Kern,
emerged. She tugged a bit at her blouse, and then walked away,
closing the door quickly behind her.
Bertow continued to talk to Jane as she stood by the door.
Then, a moment later, Bart emerged from the supply room. He
matched glances with Jane for a moment, and then walked off.
"That's odd," said Jane, still standing by the door.
"What is?" said Bertow, sitting inside his office.
"Nothing," said Jane. Was she seeing things that weren't
there? If she told Bertow she might sound paranoid. Perhaps Bart
was inspecting the supplies with Julia.
Or, more likely, Bart had been inspecting Julia.
"You have to be tough, Jane."
Jane nodded, even though she was talking on the phone and
Denise could not see her.
"You have to be able to endure whatever the firm throws at
you," said Denise.
Jane looked down at a redweld on her lap. She customarily
used redwelds to carry papers home with her. This one was
particularly battered and wrinkled, with dog-chewed ends at the
corners and a gigantic fold across the middle. But still it held
up.
"A redweld warrior," Jane muttered.
"What?" said Denise.
"I have to be tough, like a redweld warrior. No matter how
hard I get pushed or beaten upon, I still have to stand tall," said
Jane. "Now I understand."
As January wore on Mr. Teitelbaum gave Jane a "long term"
assignment. He wanted Jane to make a 40 state survey of usury laws
in different parts of the country. Jane, a little stunned at the
enormity of the project, wanted to know how long it would take her
to complete; Mr. Teitelbaum had chuckled and said, "Oh... no more
than a week or two."
Jane got to work. Unfortunately, most of the research
materials she needed were heavy books located in the library. That
meant putting up with the smoke cloud emanating from John Moss's
inner office, and worse, his constant nagging for her to shelve
some of his books. But every time he would raise the subject Jane
would say sweetly, "Why don't you call Tim Talman? I'll bet he has
some free time," and that would shut him up.
Jane began her research and she slowly started to write her
results up on paper. She thought about asking her secretary, Vic
Carbone, to type up her results, but realized that this would just
create more problems than it would solve. She had gotten along
without a secretary for this long; why should she start using one
now?
Because Jane spent a lot of time in the library working on her
research, she was not frequently at her desk, and wasn't there to
accept incoming calls. Not that she received so many calls, but
occasionally one of her friends dropped a line to say hello. So it
was a week after her research had begun that Jane, dropping by her
office on the way back from the library, happened to pick up her
ringing phone.
"Hello?"
"Oh Jane," said a familiar voice. It was Sarah Lawrence, a
friend from college. They had been on the rugby team together, and
had known each other for years. "What a relief to reach you!"
"What do you mean, Sarah?" Jane asked.
"I called for you the other day, and they said you no longer
worked there."
What? "They did, did they?" said Jane, feeling her blood
pressure rising. Just what sort of game was the firm playing now?
"And I knew that you worked there, but he insisted-"
"He?" He. Jane had a nasty suspicion that she knew who this
"he" was. "Sarah, what did he sound like?"
"Hmm... not really sure... a deep, gravely voice...."
Vic, her secretary.
"Sarah, let me get back to you," said Jane, keeping her voice
calm. She hung up and quickly made several other calls.
Well, it turned out that no less than one other of Jane's
friends had been told that she "no longer worked" at Tolcott
Teitelbaum. And who knew who else had been told the same? Jane
started to become really irritated. She felt the urge to go to Vic
and immediately confront him. Why was he doing this? Would he
attempt to deny it? How would Jane deal with it? Would it
escalate into a full-blown fight? Probably.
Maybe it would be better to see Kenneth. Yes, that was the
better course of action; instead of uselessly arguing with her
secretary, it would be better to go to Kenneth and get a new
secretary. Now Kenneth would have to get her another secretary.
Jane dropped by Kenneth's office. He was on the phone but,
upon seeing her hovering outside his door, kindly gestured for her
to come in.
"No... we sent you the check," said Kenneth, speaking into the
phone. "How should I know? Do I look like the US mail delivery
system?"
A pause. "Yes, yes, I sent it out a week ago. You should get
it any day now. Yes, I promise. Yes... goodbye!" said Kenneth,
quickly hanging up the phone.
"One moment," said Kenneth. He buzzed his secretary.
"Dolores? Remember that Con Ed bill from last October? You can
send it out now."
Kenneth turned to Jane. "Now, what can I do for you, young
lady?"
Jane, in as calm a voice as she could muster, explained how
her friends had been told by Vic that she no longer worked at
Tolcott Teitelbaum. When she had explained the fact, she made a
single, simple request. "I want another secretary," she said
bluntly.
Kenneth raised his eyebrows. "Now, now, let's not be rash.
How do your friends know that it was Vic who answered the phone?"
"Well, let's see," said Jane. "They dialed my number. Only
I or Vic or general reception can pick up my number. No men work
in general reception. In fact, Vic is the only male secretary in
the firm!"
"Intriguing line of analysis," said Kenneth, as if there were
still some doubt. "All right, let me talk to Kenneth."
"You'll let me swap secretaries?"
Kenneth raised a restraining hand. "We'll see."
Jane returned to the library, dutifully continuing to catalog
the usury laws of 40 different states. Like most assignments that
fell to her, this one was dutifully repetitive, and Jane made
progress quickly, even if the work was deathly dull.
It was early the following day before Kenneth called her into
his office. When she entered Kenneth gestured for her to sit down.
"Did you talk to Vic?" Jane asked.
"Indeed I did," said Kenneth. "It's all a big
misunderstanding."
"Oh really," said Jane. She could tell that she was about to
be the recipient of a con job. What did Vic "misunderstand"? The
only misunderstanding in this entire situation was Jane's agreement
to come and work in this madhouse.
"Watch your sarcastic tone, young lady," Kenneth snapped. "I
talked to Vic, and yes, he said that two people called, but they
were asking for Joan Stimmers."
Joan Stimmers? "Who's that?"
"She left the firm, about a year ago." Jane didn't inquire as
to the circumstances, and Kenneth didn't elaborate. "Since Vic
thought they were asking for Joan, he was naturally well within his
rights to tell them that she left the firm."
"Why would my friends call on my line to ask Vic to speak to
Joan Stimmers?"
Kenneth sighed. "Use your brain. They must have spoke in a
garbled tone, or Vic must have misheard. Either way, an honest
mistake."
"There's nothing so honest about it!" Jane flared. "My
friends didn't call up asking for any person named Joan! Do you
really believe this lame excuse?" She was getting angry now,
because once again she was being taken advantage of. She wondered
if any of the male associates at the firm were treated this way.
"Don't raise your voice with me, young lady," said Kenneth.
"You're going to have to learn how to get along here! If you get
a reputation as a troublemaker it will be very bad for you!"
"A troublemaker! Me!" Nothing could surprise Jane anymore.
So she was the troublemaker now. It seemed that protesting the
fact that she was on the receiving end of abuse constituted being
defined as a troublemaker. What was Jane supposed to do, merely
smile and take it? Well, if that's what they thought, they were
going to be sorely disappointed. Jane was one woman who was not
going take this sitting down. She got down to the point. "Listen,
are you going to switch secretaries, or not?"
"No," said Kenneth.
There was palpable tension in the air as Jane considered her
options.
All right, what should she do now? Jane was about to say that
she could raise this issue with Mr. Teitelbaum, but the head of the
corporate department never seemed to be in his office. Very well
then, she would have to handle this matter on her own. Spinning on
her heels, she left Kenneth's office, not bothering to waste any
further words with him.
Jane went immediately to Vic's secretarial station. Vic was
sitting down, nonchalantly reading a magazine. "I want to talk to
you," said Jane.
"Well, if it isn't the little missy," said Vic, smiling
appreciatively. "Long time no see. What can I do for you?" He
spoke patronizingly, knowing that the firm administration had come
down on his side. Now there would be absolutely no check on his
ability to be as abusive to Jane as he liked.
Jane took a deep breath. She was going to have to be tough.
She was going to have to be tougher than she had ever been before.
She would have to become mean and irritable like the others, making
it clear that she wasn't going to take any more abuse. She would
have to become a redweld warrior. At that moment everything became
clear to her.
"I want you to stop answering my phone and telling my friends
that I no longer work here."
Vic gave a deep laugh. "Oh, getting under the skin, are we?
It wasn't nice of you to complain about me, no it wasn't. I can't
imagine what I'll tell your little girl friends who call up now."
And he laughed and laughed, enjoying the moment, enjoying his power
over her.
Jane's face grew stern. She took a step forward, towering
over the sitting individual. "You're not going to tell them
anything."
"I'm not?" said Vic, amused.
"No," said Jane. "You're not going to answer my phone at all,
ever again."
"And why is that?" Vic still looked playful.
Jane moved closer and lowered her voice. "Because if you do
and I ever, ever find out that you are telling people who call that
I no longer work here, I will do everything in my power to make
your life miserable. I will work tirelessly to get you fired. I
will spend all my time working to make your life unpleasant. I
will report you for every minor infraction... such as reading
magazines on the job." And with that Jane lifted Vic's magazine,
ripped it in half, and tossed it to the ground, stomping on it.
"Hey!" Vic cried, starting to get up. He started to raise an
arm against her, but stopped. He saw murder in her eyes, and he
took a step back.
Jane took a step forward, until she was inches from his face.
"In short, I will make your life miserable if you ever tangle with
me again. That's the deal. I'll leave it to you to take it or
leave it." And she walked away without looking back. Vic, shaken
up, didn't have the sense to send a parting retort.
Jane nodded to herself. She had done the right thing. She
wouldn't let herself be pushed around any more. Score one for the
redweld warrior.
A later talk with Heidi Blakelock confirmed she had taken the
correct course of action. "Vic is well known for hating women like
poison," said Heidi. She had never liked Vic, and made no attempt
to hide her feelings. "He's treated all the women associates he's
ever worked for like garbage. He even called me a whore once."
She delicately touched her carefully arranged hair.
"How does he get away with such crap?" Jane wanted to know.
Why was this man not fired? Why did everyone tolerate such
unacceptable behavior?
"The firm... tolerates certain abuses," said Heidi slowly,
looking as if she were choosing her words carefully. "There's kind
of an atmosphere here for some of this stuff, you know."
"I'm beginning to find out," said Jane. "And I'm not going to
take it anymore."
"Good for you!" said Heidi. "But watch out, Jane. An old
boys network runs this firm. Don't cross them too much, or you'll
find yourself really cut off."
Jane was silent, but she believed Heidi's warning was real.
Still, she had no intention of just going along and taking more
abuse, especially abuse that was directed at her because of her
gender. The firm may have managed to intimidate people ever since
it had first opened its doors, way back in 1983, but Jane was not
about to become the next victim of Tolcott Teitelbaum's
pacification program.
Jane continued work on her forty state survey. She sighed as
she pushed aside one stack of books, only to pull another stack of
books within arms reach. Fifteen states down, thirty five to go.
Ever so often Jane would type her results into one of the library
computers. In the interim Moss occasionally dropped by, still
nagging her to shelve books, but she slapped him down much as she
had Vic.
"You're always on the computer, always wordprocessing," he
whined. "These computers are dedicated for Lexis and Westlaw."
"Do you see anyone who wants to use Lexis or Westlaw?" said
Jane. "This terminal is empty. If someone wants to use it for
legal research and the other terminal is not free, then I'll give
in."
"But-"
"But me no buts. If you don't have anything new to say, go
away, you annoying little man." said Jane. "And if you have all
this free time to be a pain in the ass, perhaps you should be
shelving some of your books!"
"Don't take that tone with me-"
"Shut up. You no longer amuse me," said Jane. Turning away
from him, she focused directly on her computer screen, ignoring
him. She felt a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Hold on."
Jane turned to face him, giving him a hard look. Suddenly
Moss felt that a tension in the air, as if violence were near.
"Get your hands off me," said Jane quietly.
Moss, not quite thinking what he was doing, found his hand
removing itself.
"Thank you." Jane turned back to her work.
Score another one for the redweld warrior. She had first put
Vic in his place and now Moss. She could and would hold her own
with any person who tried to heap abuse on her.
Her research proceeded smoothly after that, and Jane was
grateful to have regular hours for the next few days. In fact when
she was finally nearly done with the project she decided to stay an
hour or two late that night at work in order to finish her memo on
the subject. It was around 7 o'clock in the evening when David
Kapnick sauntered into her office, where Jane was reviewing the
latest print out of her memo.
"I'm hungry; anyone want dinner?"
Talman, who was working on a loan agreement, looked up. "I
thought you weren't staying late tonight?"
"I'm not; just until 7:30, so I can take a car home," said
Kapnick. Under firm regulations attorneys could take cars home
after 7:30 and charge them to clients. "I figured I'd like
something to eat on the way home."
"And you're going to charge it to a client?" said Jane.
"Sure," said Kapnick. "Look at the time now. Seven o'clock.
All reasonable people are just finishing dinner, and I haven't even
begun. Let's see, I think I'll order a ham sandwich... or maybe
two...."
Jane just shook her head, and shortly thereafter finished
working on the memo. She was in a good mood when she headed home
that night. She had spent over two weeks working on the memo, and
now it was done. She had put Vic in his place, and he had stopped
answering her phone, allowing her messages to go directly into
voice mail. She had finally gotten rid of her secretary. Of
course under ideal circumstances she would have preferred to have
a real secretary, but in Tolcott Teitelbaum it was better to have
none than one who actively worked against her.
The trouble started up again the next day.
Jane sat around much of the day after she handed in her memo.
There seemed to be no work available, although the other associates
seemed busy enough. She went to work organizing her different
redwelds in her office, but it was really just makework.
She wandered around until about six o'clock, and then she
decided to go home. It was a friday, and it seemed unlikely that
any work would materialize. Jane put on her coat, got her
possessions, and went out the door. She went to the elevator bank
and pressed the down button.
"Jane! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"
It was Manuel Francois. "Where do you think you're going? I
need your help with a term sheet!"
There was no escape.
It was a really really long term sheet, one that corresponded
to a really really long asset purchase agreement, and the asset
purchase agreement had a number of subsidiary agreements as well.
The term sheet was over 40 pages jammed packed with provisions and
definitions, and the full text of all the agreements was over 600
pages in length.
"When do I need to have this done by?" Jane asked, getting a
sinking feeling.
"First thing Monday morning!" Francois snarled, "Don't make
such a sourpuss face! I just got this assignment from Kentrust ten
minutes ago! Now listen, we're going to have to talk on Sunday
morning, so I need for you to have most of it done by then! Call
me on Sunday morning at precisely... 10:15 AM. Got it? Good."
Well, that was the end of Jane's weekend. But at least she
could work at home.
Predictably she got a call from her parents. Her mother was
again surprised that Jane was working over the weekend. But she
added, "They must appreciate very much that you're giving up your
weekend for them."
"Yes, it means you're getting ahead in the firm," said her
father approvingly.
"Perhaps this Mr. Francois can be your men-tor," said Mrs.
Sommers.
Jane made quick pleasantries and quickly hung up for fear of
saying something she would later regret. She got down to work, but
it was tough sledding. The provisions in the term sheet had to be
compared to the asset purchase agreement plus exhibits, but the
provisions in the term sheets were very complex, and were described
in different ways in the asset purchase agreement. Often a compact
definition in the term sheet would be described in several parts in
several places in the asset purchase agreement, each many pages
apart and seemingly unrelated. It made the going very, very slow.
Jane looked at her bed, and sighed. "Well, I guess I won't be
seeing you tonight."
Jane stayed up the whole night, only taking a short half hour
break to kill some bugs on the bathroom floor. She worked all
through saturday, wrestling with the difficult term sheet. Slowly
she made progress. By Saturday night she had completed 35 of the
42 pages of the term sheet. But the remaining seven pages were the
hardest material that she had skipped over earlier.
And Jane was fazing out. She just couldn't concentrate; it
wasn't surprising, she hadn't slept since Friday morning. But she
forced herself to continue on.
Finally at 10 AM in the morning Jane felt she had done what
she could and she looked up at the clock and realized that she had
to call Francois in fifteen minutes. Quickly she took a shower to
wake herself up. When she emerged she was repelled by the sight in
the mirror. Her eyes were deeply bloodshot with heavy bags under
them. Well, at least it would be over soon.
She dialed Francois' number.
"Yes?" said a voice at the other end of the line. That would
be Francois. That was his way of saying hello.
Jane made her report, going over the comparison she had made.
Then she noted the roughly four pages of material that she simply
hadn't found.
"What?" said Francois.
"I didn't find these four pages of material," said Jane,
shaking her head. She still felt a little groggy.
"What? Why?"
"I don't know. It may not be in the document. I searched the
best I could, given the time I had-"
"Don't give me that! You had the whole weekend!" Francois
yelled. "YOU'RE JUST A STUPID GIRL, A STUPID WHINY GIRL!"
"STOP YELLING! I'M NOT GOING TO STAND FOR THAT! STOP IT!!!"
Jane screamed, as loud as she could.
There was silence on the line for a moment. Maybe her tactic
had worked.
"Still there?" said Jane, calming down a little.
"Yes," she heard.
"Listen, I haven't slept since Friday morning. I worked on it
nonstop. This is what I can do. What do you want me to do?"
"Spend the rest of the day trying to find the material you
missed. Present a full report to me Monday morning."
Jane nodded. It was the best she could expect.
But first she allowed herself the luxury of four hours of
solid uninterrupted sleep.
When she presented her full report the next morning Francois
didn't overtly abuse her. But his words from the day before
continued to sting. He had called her a stupid girl. He had
linked her intelligence and legal ability together with her gender,
had labeled her an idiot because she was a woman. Jane never
forgot that. This firm did have a sexist atmosphere, and there was
no doubt that much of the suffering that Jane went through was
because she was a woman. Now this aspect of firm life was starting
to come out into the open.
Chapter 4: Spring
And then it was Spring and matters unexpectedly took a turn
for the better. The warm currents and healthy sunshine that
greeted Jane everyday on her walk to work were a harbinger of
positive things to come. At least, it certainly seemed that way,
at first.
It was in early March that Jane found out that she was going
to work on a project with someone she had never worked with before.
She had been summoned to Bart's office, and Bart was sitting back
in his chair, his eyes closed and his shoes and socks off, while
Dana expertly massaged his feet.
"I have a new assignment for you Jane," said Bart, his eyes
still closed. "I want you to work with Heidi on a prospectus
coming out in the next two months."
Working with Heidi! Jane would have jumped at the chance.
Heidi was the one sympathetic voice she knew of in this entire
firm. Finally, to work with someone who would not treat her as an
abject slave or a "skirt".
"Great!" said Jane, with real enthusiasm in her voice. "When
do I begin?"
"Right now. Go to her office for details," said Bart.
"Right!" said Jane. She was fairly bouncing as she raced down
the hall.
When she reached Heidi's office she exclaimed, "Heidi! I just
heard the great news!" Jane was all bubbling over with excitement.
"Hi Jane," said Heidi, her voice deadpan. She gestured for
Jane to take a seat. "Sit down and we'll begin."
Jane's smile slowly faded. Was there something wrong?
"Let's begin," said Heidi, her tone deadly serious. "You'll
mostly be keeping track of the smaller documents, but you'll
occasionally be assisting in working on some of the larger
exhibits. First thing for you to do is to make a list of all the
documents we need and all the people we need to contact... we'll
also need transfer letters, certificates of both sorts, proper
certifications, indemnification letters, underwriting
documentation, opinions from all three sources-"
"Wait, can you go slower?" Jane asked. "What was that...
transfer certificates? And who are those three parties you're
referring to?"
"No, that's transfer letters and certificates," said Heidi,
looking annoyed. Her hand reached up to scratch her head but she
stopped the hand in mid-motion, resisting the urge. She continued,
"You need to contact the trustee to see when the certifications are
arriving-"
Which certifications? And what were the three sources she
kept mentioning?
Heidi kept at it, going at machine gun speed, with Jane
frantic to write everything down as fast as she could. The worse
part of it was the fact that not only did Heidi talk very quickly,
but she also mumbled. Words were obscured as she struggled to
indoctrinate Jane as quickly as possible.
Finally when she was done she said to Jane, "Fine, are you all
set? You know what to do next?"
"Um... well... not really...." Jane confessed. She was still
working on frantically writing down the last seven or eight things
that Heidi had mentioned, and those items were quickly fading from
her memory.
"You have to go over the certificates and check with the
Trustee and Custodian," said Heidi, looking annoyed. Again her
hand snaked up to her hair, and again she pulled it back, at the
very last moment.
Jane nodded, and made her way to the door.
Heidi's brusk attitude puzzled her. Perhaps she was having a
bad day. But as time progressed Jane came to see that Heidi's new
attitude towards Jane was by no means a temporary phenomenon. She
became unforgiving of even the smallest mistakes and constantly
berated Jane to do better.
One time she said to Jane, "Did you call the Depositor?"
Jane nodded. "I called Bob, but he wasn't in."
Heidi frowned. "Call him back."
"I just called him a half hour ago," said Jane.
Heidi's face grew dark. "I told you to call him this morning,
not this afternoon."
"I was busy this morning collecting those faxes you wanted,"
said Jane. Why was Heidi getting so angry? Jane was just doing as
she was told.
"Don't answer me back!" Heidi cried. "Now get Bob on the
phone, stat!"
Stat! was one of Heidi's favorite expressions. Whenever she
wanted something done immediately she said she wanted it done stat!
Jane was only remotely familiar with the phrase, at least until she
saw an episode of MASH late one night where Hawkeye ordered one of
the nurses to get an intravenous solution set up "Stat!". Heidi
was treating Jane like a nurse, even though as an attorney she was
only one year senior to Jane.
Heidi's irksome behavior continued to puzzle Jane. She
answered questions very quickly and refused to elaborate on
anything she said. Heidi had yet to explain what the terms of the
deal was and how the major parties were to interact with each
other. She had explained to Jane what she needed to do in terms of
keeping track of documents and filling out minor paperwork, but
seemed reluctant to explain how the larger deal worked.
Jane was so puzzled that she raised the subject with Sam
Bertow, looking for any sort of explanation. Surprisingly, he
offered one rather quickly.
"Jealousy," he said.
That was the last thing that Jane expected to hear. "What?
What does she have to be jealous about?"
"Everything," said Bertow. "She's only one year ahead of you,
remember. She's more of a competitor than a superior. And she
knows that up to now only two women have worked for Bart, her and
Amanda Warwick."
"So? Why isn't she jealous of Amanda then?" said Jane.
"She is. But it isn't so bad because Amanda is five years
senior to her, and not a threat."
"And I am?"
"Jane, very few women make it in the corporate department,"
said Bertow. "In fact, basically it's only Amanda and Heidi."
Jane got a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. "And
how have they... made it?"
Bertow focused on the far wall of his office. "Some have said
that they've made much of their... close... relationship with
Bart."
"You're saying they slept with Bart!" said Jane. This was
almost too much for her to believe. And yet, it also had a ring of
truth to it....
"Shhh! Lower your voice," said Bertow, looking past her, out
the door. "It wouldn't be the first time Bart has dallied. Surely
you know that."
"Well...." Jane considered. She considered how Bart had
always treated her properly. "Bart's never made a move on me."
"True. And how rapidly have you risen in the corporate
department?"
Jane considered. She thought about the times she had been
doing proofreading and small research tasks while Talman had been
working on major documents. And then she remembered the due
diligence fiasco. And her very important trip to the Queens
office. To deliver a package.
"My progress has been a... little slow," said Jane guardedly.
"Are you saying that I might rise faster if I took a liking to
Bart?"
"Officially, I'm not saying anything," said Bertow, speaking
very carefully now.
"But I am working on prospectuses now-"
"-under Heidi. And she's worried that you might replace her
as Bart's junior girl."
So that was it! Heidi was jealous of her. Jane couldn't
believe it. Sweet, gentle Heidi? What did she think, that Jane
was going to start having sex with Bart, and eclipse Heidi's status
at the firm?
"Well, if that's the price of being on Bart's team she has
nothing to worry about. If that's the case I'd rather work for Mr.
Teitelbaum," said Jane firmly.
"Teitelbaum doesn't have women working for him, not doing the
big work," said Bertow. "Only Bart does."
Jane turned to leave. She had a lot to think about.
"One more thing," said Bertow.
"Eh?" said Jane.
"Watch out for Heidi."
"Watch out? Why?"
"She can be a bit... fanatical."
Fanatical? That was an odd word to apply to Heidi. "What do
you mean?"
"Well...." Bertow seemed unwilling to elaborate. He searched
for the right words. "Well, it's little things. Have you noticed,
for example, about her hair?"
What did her hair have to do with it? What did her hair have
to do with anything? Although, when he mentioned it, Jane did
notice something strange about Heidi's hair. She couldn't put her
finger on it, but there was definitely something not right about
it. "What about her hair?"
"She had very thin hair."
"So?" Where was this leading?
Bertow paused, thinking if there was anyway he could "She...
pulls out her hair."
"What?"
"It's common knowledge at the firm. When she gets frustrated,
she tugs at her hair," said Bertow. "She actually has less hair
than it seems."
What did that mean? "What does this have to do with...."
"Just that there's a bit of a maniacal side to her, one that
you should watch out for."
"Maniacal," said Jane. In the six months she had known Heidi,
she never thought the word would apply to her.
And now she would be working for Heidi for the next two
months. Just what had she gotten herself into?
A master-slave relationship. After two weeks, that much
became clear. Though she was but one year senior to Jane, she
acted as if she was the partner and Jane was a paralegal, yelling
at her and berating her for the smallest infraction, even those
that were not her own fault. And Jane, with a keener eye for
things, started to notice some of what Bertow was alluding to. She
noted, for example, that Heidi always wore her hair in the exact
same way, pulled back tautly, and there were parts of her hair that
were so thin that Jane could see through. Did Heidi have a bald
spot? Did she really pull out her own hair?
And then one day in her office Jane noticed a dark clump on
the floor, just under the edge of Heidi's desk. Could this be a
clump of freshly removed hair? Jane tried not to look directly at
the item, so as to not draw attention to it, but when she returned
later that evening after Heidi had left, the clump of hair, or
whatever it was, was gone.
Meanwhile, Heidi's mumbling got so bad that Jane just had to
do something about it. One time Heidi burst into Jane's office,
said, "Jane, I want you to mumble mumble mumble, mumble mumble
mumble!" and left before Jane could ask a question.
Jane looked around. Talman was out of the office at the
moment. She took a tape recorder out of her pocket, pressed the
stop button, and slowly rewound. When she reached the beginning
she replayed, at a special slower speed.
"Jane... I want you to... call... Moody's...tochick ratnis."
Jane listened to the recording several times. Slowly,
nodding, she understood. She was to call Moody's to find out about
the ratings.
But one time the taping backfired. After Jane was in Heidi's
office for a particularly long time (or so it subjectively seemed),
they heard a low pitched whine.
"So complete the documents, make the calls, mumble mumble mum-
what's that?" said Heidi.
"What's what?" said Jane, stiffening.
"I hear a whining sound," said Heidi.
"I don't hear anything," said Jane, slowly putting her hand in
her pocket.
"It's coming from your direction," said Heidi, slowly getting
up. She walked towards Jane, and past her, to the door. She stood
there for a moment. Suddenly she thought she heard a soft click,
and the noise stopped.
"It's gone now," said Heidi. "I wonder what that was?"
"Me too," said Jane. That had been a close one. "Now get to
work! I want things done, stat!"
Denise refused to believe. "It can't be as bad as you say,
Jane, it can't," she said. "Partners who make their secretaries
give foot massages, librarians who force you to shelve books,
office managers who cheat vendors, lawyers who shout 'Stat!'-"
"It's true, all of it! You have to see it to believe it!"
said Jane.
And so the gauntlet had been tossed down. Denise agreed to
pay a visit, during the afternoon of the following day.
Denise entered the posh reception area at Tolcott Teitelbaum.
The blonde receptionist cracked a chewing gun bubble and said, "Can
I help you?"
Suddenly the phone rang.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum?" said the receptionist. Then, "No, I
don't handle unpaid bills. You want Jonathan Kenneth. Let me
connect you-"
She looked up at Denise. "Now, can I help you-"
The reception phone rang again. "Tolcott Teitelbaum," said
the receptionist. A pause. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
connect you to janitor support. Ah, ha ha ha! That's so funny.
Excuse me, I'll connect you to Mr. Kenneth right now." She pushed
a button.
"Ah, finally," said the receptionist. "I never get a moment's
rest. "Now, what can I do for you?"
Jane received word that Denise was at the reception area, and
she groaned. This was the worst possible time to receive a
visitor. Jane was getting out a fax distribution to several
different parties, and Heidi wanted it all done quickly. Well,
Heidi always wanted it done quickly.
But Jane took a break and quickly went upstairs and brought
Denise down. "I need just a few minutes to finish this
distribution, you understand," said Jane. "Then I'll be free.
"Ok," said Denise.
She sat in a chair in the corner while Jane raced to get her
faxes out. Talman was out of the office at the moment so she and
Jane were alone.
Jane arranged her faxes, filling out the proper forms.
"Don't you have your secretary do that?" said Denise.
"Um... no," said Jane, rushing to get things done.
"Oh, I forgot, you told me about that, you don't have one,"
said Denise. "Sorry."
Jane completed the fax forms, dumped them in the fax room, and
returned to Denise. "Now I'm free for a little-"
"WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS!"
Jane turned about. Heidi stood in her office, her hands on
her hips, her nostrils flaring.
"I'm sorry?" said Jane, not comprehending.
"This," she said, slamming a pile of papers at Jane's feet.
Not looking at Denise, Jane slowly picked them up. "This is part
of the distribution I sent out yesterday," said Jane slowly.
"Yes! And look at page fifteen, please!"
Jane sorted through the papers. Twelve, thirteen, fifteen...
uh, oh. She looked up at Heidi. "It's missing."
"Well of course it's missing! What's the explanation!" She
glared at Jane.
"Well, the last time we had a difficulty with distributions,
I told you I was going to have the paralegal check them before they
went out. I'm sure I told Bob to check them before we sent them-"
"No excuses! Don't blame your mistakes on the paralegal!
You're supposed to be supervising the paralegal! If the paralegal
makes a mistake, it's your fault! I want a real explanation!"
"Well... I don't have one," said Jane.
"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! I DON'T ACCEPT-" Suddenly, Heidi
broke off in mid speech, turning around slowly. She saw Denise,
standing in the corner, with a wide-eyed expression on her face.
Heidi gave Denise a dirty glare, and turned back to Jane. "Get it
fixed. Fax out the missing page. Stat!" And she turned and left.
"I believe you," said Denise quietly.
It only took Jane a few minutes to arrange for the new wave of
faxes to go out. Then she returned to Denise.
"You looked exhausted," said Denise.
"It's more of an emotional toll," said Jane.
"I can see," said Denise. "You know, if I hadn't seen it with
my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. How have you lasted this
long?"
At that moment Tim Talman entered the office. Upon seeing
Denise he immediately sized her up, slowly looking up and down her
body with a predatory stare. Especially upwards, as Denise, like
most other people, towered over Talman.
"Denise, this is my officemate, Tim Talman," said Jane,
oblivious to all this.
"Hi," said Tim, grinning broadly. He unconsciously stood on
his toes to make himself a little taller.
"Hello," said Denise. Now it was her turn to look him over,
and she was unimpressed with what she saw: a little man with
slicked back hair and ridiculous red suspenders that made him look
like a clown. And what was that lettering, there on his sleeve?
Initials? His initials? Preposterous!
She restrained the impulse to laugh and instead it came out as
a smile. Tim took it the wrong way, thinking she liked him.
At that moment David Kapnick came into the office, munching on
a sandwich, and Jane was forced to make introductions again.
"Oh... you're Jane's friend. You're a lawyer? Where do you
work?"
"Davis Polk," she said, and Kapnick's grin faded.
Davis Polk was one of the top firms in the city, as far above
Tolcott Teitelbaum on the legal food chain as a safari elephant was
to a bug.
"Oh, I've been there," said Kapnick nonchalantly.
"Really?"
"Well... almost," said Kapnick. "When I was in law school
they wanted me to interview with them. But I didn't have the
time."
"Really?" said Denise, nodding attentively.
"Yes, I was very busy in those days," said Kapnick, munching
on his sandwich. From this distance it smelled like ham. "So, are
you going out with anyone?"
"David!" said Jane.
"What?" said Kapnick. "It's a legitimate question. You've
got a good bod. So, let's hear it, babe. Who're you seeing?"
Denise didn't respond. Instead she said, "Jane, it's been an
unbelievable visit, but I have to go."
Jane nodded. Jane knew that had she, Jane, been new to the
torment, she would have felt the need to leave quickly as well.
She escorted Denise to the door.
Soon the day came when Jane was required to make the trip to
the printers. She hoped it wouldn't be as agonizing as her trip
with Dick Brant had been, but then she realized that with Heidi
Blakelock, everything was agonizing. Heidi had succeeded in making
Jane extremely nervous about every minute facet of the securities
offering, and Jane worried about every little fax and every little
correction, down to the smallest comma.
"We're going to the printers tonight," Heidi announced. She
didn't say stat, so Jane knew they were not leaving immediately.
At least, not in the next five minutes.
Jane sat in Blakelock's office. She noticed a sealed envelope
on the corner of Heidi's desk, peeking out from under her
pocketbook.
"I'll need 100% of your effort," said Heidi, as though she
were used to receiving half hearted efforts or less.
Jane, ignoring the moderate snub, could just make out the
return address on the envelope. What was it... something like...
some kind of... Club for Women. But there was still a word
missing, before the word club. The first word was obscured under
the pocketbook which lay over the envelope. Just what did the
first word say?
"No screwups, no foulups," said Heidi, not paying attention to
the fact that her slave was not paying attention. "The client is
going to be there. No speaking unless spoken to." She leaned down
on her pocketbook, and the envelope poked out a little more.
Hair.
The Hair Club for Women. Blakelock was a member of the Hair
Club for Women!
Suddenly it all made sense. The thinning hair, the precise
hairdo--Blakelock must wear a wig! She must have a bald spot,
created from all her hair-pulling. So Bertow was right, she was a
maniac! And now Jane had to spend a night at the printer with this
maniac. Swell.
"Do I have your undivided attention!" Blakelock snapped,
sensing that the hired help wasn't focusing on her pep talk.
"Um hm," said Jane dully. This night was going to be
horrible.
It was in such a defeatist frame of mind that Jane accompanied
Heidi to the printers accompanied by two paralegals, Julia Kern and
Bob Kerry. At the printers Jane got the chance to meet, for the
first time, representatives of her client, the Vice President for
Legal Affairs of the securities issuer. Her name was Jane Tully,
and she greeted Jane with a firm handshake.
Jane was about to exchange a further pleasant greeting when
Heidi quickly stepped forward, slamming down a draft copy of the
prospectus on the table in front of Jane. Evidently she frowned on
unauthorized fraternization with the client by the lower ranks.
Heidi said, "Here's a draft with the latest changes. Get to work
with the paralegals and check them against our draft."
Then Heidi turned to Tully, and she was all smiles. "Jane, I
haven't seen you in months! How are you doing?"
They chatted amiably. "Oh, I must see your baby pictures,"
said Heidi. She cooed over them enthusiastically. "Ooh, they're
so beautiful! They look just like you!" She went on like that for
some time. Then, suddenly sensing a lack of motion behind her, she
turned about.
Blakelock aimed a glare at Jane's immobile form. "What are
you doing?"
Jane was just sitting in place. "Nothing. We checked the
changes, they're ok." The paralegals nodded nervously in
agreement. They knew that they would either all hang together or
they would each hang apart.
"Then get on the next changes! Stat!" Heidi snapped.
Jane glanced at the entrance to the conference room. "The
printer people haven't brought them out yet."
"Then proofread the document, word for word! Don't just sit
there!" Heidi turned to Tully, gave an exasperated sigh, as if to
comment on the fact that good help was so hard to find these days.
Jane glanced at the paralegals, Kern and Kerry, who gave her
similar looks.
They hated Heidi's guts too.
Anyway, they got down to work, makework, actually, and time
progressed slowly but surely and before Jane expected it the time
was 7 PM. "Time for me to go home," said Tully.
"See you! Say hi from me to the kids," said Heidi, giving a
gentle smile.
As soon as Tully was out the door Heidi looked at three pairs
of eyes. "What are you staring at?" she snarled. "Get back to
work!"
They worked late into the evening, each of them attempting to
steel themselves against Heidi's periodic outbursts.
"What are you doing!" Heidi yelled at one point. Jane quickly
looked at the clock. It was around 10 PM. She had been timing it,
and it seemed that there was about a fifteen to twenty minute
interval between each outburst.
Jane, bleary-eyed, said, "Checking the changes."
"You're checking them front to back?"
Jane wearily nodded. The paralegals looked at each other as
if to say, oh-oh!
"I told you to check them back to front!" said Heidi.
"Sorry," said Jane. She didn't ask why it mattered, because
she knew it didn't matter. Blakelock would merely slap her down
again if she asked, and give some sort of bogus response. Jane
turned to the end of the document and prepared to start from the
last page. The changes would all have to be checked again from
scratch, but that went without saying, of course.
But Blakelock was not done dealing with this disciplinary
problems in the ranks. "Sorry doesn't cut it! Explanation,
please!"
Jane stared at Heidi. She knew it didn't really matter what
she said, so Jane explained it simply. "I didn't think it made any
difference if I started from the front or the back."
"You're not paid to think!" said Heidi, her nostrils flaring.
"You're under my authority, and when you're working under my
authority you will do things in my way! I'm the one who has to sit
here and take the real heat, making all the changes that need to be
made. All you have to do is to check them. Now check them! I'm
going out for a cigarette." She left, in a huff.
One of the paralegals touched Jane on the arm. It was Bob
Kerry. "We feel sorry for you," he said.
"Thanks," said Jane, giving a small smile. That helped, a
little.
Jane looked at the door. Heidi had stepped out. "Why is she
such a...."
"Bitch?" said Kerry. He shrugged. "She does Bart, and thinks
she can get away with anything." Then for some reason he glanced
sharply at Julia Kern, but she was looking carefully away at the
far wall.
"We'd better get back to work," said Jane.
"Yes, before Master is displeased," said Kerry.
They kept up the pace, and shortly thereafter Heidi returned,
deigning to grace them with her presence. Heidi, who was
responsible for making changes to the document, didn't seem content
to make all her changes at one time. Instead she made small
changes to the document piecemeal, often changing sections several
times before she felt she got it right, sometimes altering a
paragraph five or six or seven times, and then reverting back to
the original version. Throughout it Jane remained stoic, doing the
mechanical task assigned to her.
It wasn't until 11:30 PM that Jane snapped.
She was slowly and meticulously checking the latest changes to
the document, being careful despite her fatigue. Then Heidi, who
had nothing to do at the moment, turned on the television in the
conference room. The next thing Jane heard was the loud sound of
the studio audience laughing at a David Letterman joke.
"Could you turn it down?" said Jane.
"What? I want to watch Letterman," said Heidi.
"I'm trying to concentrate," said Jane, gritting her teeth.
"You can't be serious," said Heidi.
And then Jane remembered something she had forgotten. She had
to be a redweld warrior. She had to be tough, or else she would be
stepped on. Heidi's campaign of intimidation had made it difficult
for Jane to stand up for her rights, but Jane would only take so
much.
And so Jane, without a word, got up, went into another
conference room, and closed the door behind her. The paralegals,
with a fearful glance at Heidi, followed, bringing their work with
them.
"What are you doing!" Heidi cried. "This is mutiny! Mutiny!"
And that is how Jane worked the rest of the night. She did
whatever Heidi requested, but never spoke to her or looked directly
at her, only answering with a nod of the head. And she continued
to work with the paralegals in the other room.
Finally at around 4 AM they were done, and they called it a
night.
Jane came into work around 11 AM the next morning. She knew
Heidi would complain but Jane didn't care. Jane had some
complaints of her own.
She trudged to the Tolcott Teitelbaum building, as she now
called it. As she entered the building she noticed Mr. Teitelbaum
coming out of the porno bookstore next door. Mr. Teitelbaum was
holding an unobtrusive paper bag.
"Jane," he said curtly.
She nodded, other things on her mind.
Once out of the elevator Jane immediately went to Bart's
office. As usual, he was sitting in his chair, facing away from
her. "Jane," he said in a monotone.
Jane didn't care how Bart knew it was her. She was just fed
up. "Bart, I have something to tell you." She related how Heidi
had treated her and the paralegals the night before. Jane didn't
care what relationship Bart had with Heidi; the truth needed to
come out, and Jane needed to say it.
Bart took it all in silently, not even nodding from time to
time to show he was paying attention. Finally when she was done
there was silence in the room. The silence lingered for one
moment, and then two and then three. Finally Jane said, "Well?"
Bart said, "Heidi was already here to see me this morning.
She had a somewhat different comment concerning your stay at the
printers."
"Yes?" Jane braced for the worst.
"She said that the client complained about you," said Bart.
"What?" Jane's mind was racing. What contact had she had
with Tully? What could she have said to upset Tully? "How?"
"It was a very general comment," said Bart. "Apparently she
thought you were unprofessional."
"Me unprofessional? Why?" What could he be talking about?
Bart shrugged. "Like I said, it was a general comment."
"Who told you this? Heidi?" said Jane. "Listen, the only
words I said to Tully were hello. I didn't say a single other word
the entire time at the printer. In fact it was Heidi who spent the
most time yakking with her! How could she say I was
unprofessional? I want to talk to her-"
"No!" Bart said, with an air of finality. "One thing we're
not going to do is bring it up again with the client. You must not
do that."
Jane stared. This was the first time that Bart had ever
focused on an issue so forcefully. "But she's lying. Or she's in
cahoots with Tully. Talk to the paralegals, they'll tell you what
happened. Hell, they told me they felt sorry for me!"
"I've already spoken with Julia," said Bart. "I can see there
are a number of perspectives on this."
"Well, I don't want to work with Heidi anymore," Jane
declared. "If she's going to get the client to badmouth me, I
don't want any part of working with her."
Bart sighed.
"You believe me, don't you?" said Jane.
Bart said nothing.
"Anyway, when am I going to get off the proofreading patrol?
Tim Talman's working on major documents and I'm still
proofreading!"
Bart sighed, putting his head in his hands.
Jane left his office, leaving him like that.
This was great, this was really great. Mumbling to herself
and shaking her head, she went over to Bertow's office and told him
what had happened. Bertow was in the middle of reviewing a stack
of documents on top of a redweld, but he looked up and sat
patiently while Jane explained what had happened. When she was
done Bertow sighed.
"I warned you," he said. "I did warn you."
"So you did; what could I do about it?" said Jane. "And why
didn't Bart believe me?"
"He didn't say that he didn't believe you," said Bertow. "You
said he talked to one of the paralegals. He must know."
"Then why doesn't he punish her and not me?"
"Heidi and Bart have a special relationship," said Bertow. "I
tried to tell you that."
Jane knew what was "special" about their relationship, and it
disgusted her. They should both be professionals, but apparently
not only was Bart sleeping with Heidi, but he was also favoring her
as a result. Should Jane be surprised? Was that the price she
needed to pay to get off the proofreading patrol, to sleep with
Bart? Jane found herself shaking her head sadly.
And she didn't even noticing Bertow frowning. "And part of it
was your fault too, you know."
"What? How was any of this my fault?" Was it Jane's fault
that Heidi was so abusive? Was it Jane's fault that Heidi was
sleeping with Bart, or that Bart was favoring Heidi as a result?
Was any of this Jane's fault?
But Bertow elaborated on his theme. "A dispute takes two
parties to propagate," he said firmly. "One party can't start a
dispute on her own."
That was crazy. "Heidi can! Unless I act like a total
slave!"
"Jane, can't you see how aggressive you're being? Calm down,
take a deep breath. Try to get in touch with your feelings," said
Bertow. He paused. "Have you been dating anyone lately?"
Jane frowned. Of what relevance was that? "No, and what does
it matter?"
"You're obviously tense, and you need to unwind. Have you
been actively trying to meet men?"
"I haven't had the time!" Jane exploded. "I've been working."
Of what possible relevance was this? Was Bertow implying that she
was tense because she wasn't getting any? What kind of a jerk was
she talking to?
"I understand," said Bertow patronizingly. "But you should
make the time to meet men. After all, we're all human beings, but
we're also animals, with animalistic urges. If you're so busy with
your work to go out and meet someone, why don't you put in an ad?"
"A singles ad?" Jane made a face. "You mean in one of those
singles papers?"
"Sure," said Bertow. "Or if you wanted a more select
audience, you could put an ad up in the office of a doctor who
specializes in men... maybe a prostate specialist."
"Now you're joking," said Jane wearily.
"No! Just think, that's the one place where only men go-"
"-with defective prostates."
"Not always. Often it's just for checkups, just to make sure
everything is working properly," said Bertow.
"So what would I do, put up a wanted ad on the glass window
where the patients speak to the receptionist? Or perhaps I would
leave photocopies of all my vital statistics next to the magazines
on the coffee table, with the message 'able bodied woman seeking
man with functioning prostate' printed in bold black ink on them?"
"You're making it a joke but it's a serious idea."
"On the contrary, it is a joke because you think it is a
serious idea," said Jane. "Do you realize how much credibility
you've just lost with me? How can I trust any other advice you
give when I hear you say this crap with a straight face?"
Bertow wasn't angry, but he said, "If so, why do you keep
visiting me?"
"Because you're the only one here I can talk to," said Jane,
going for the door. What kind of a moron was he? Suddenly, after
this conversation, Jane suddenly knew.
Later that afternoon Jane sat in a conference room, going over
some paperwork. She had been driven out of her office by Talman,
who had been talking loudly on the phone. He had been describing
to a friend a date he had allegedly been on the night before in
very graphic detail, leering at Jane every few moments, letting her
know that he enjoyed sharing the details with her as well.
What was it with these people here? Why was everyone here sex
fiends? How did such an atmosphere come about?
And then sudden movement caught the corner of her eye.
Someone was closing the flimsy curtains in Bart' office across the
way. There were two people alone in there, clearly visible shapes
through the thin curtain.
"Oh no, not again," Jane murmured, not able to look away.
The two people in the room were kissing and hugging. And
then, slowly, one of them, the woman, started taking off her
clothes. The man (presumably Bart?) squeezed one of her breasts
inquiringly, much as one squeezes a grapefruit in the supermarket
to see if it is hard.
Then the woman reached over and started taking off his
clothes. In moments Bart was apparently naked. The woman hugged
and started kissing him, and their bodies rubbed together. Then
they were rolling about on his desk, vigorously arousing each
other.
And then Jane got the surprise of her life. The curtain was
not fully closed. She could see a sliver of the room where one end
of the desk was. As the figures rolled back and forth one head
came into view, the one on bottom...
First part of the head appeared... it was balding, so it must
be Bart... but then the face appeared, just a bit, but the bit was
enough.... it was Heidi! And she had a large bald patch right on
top of her head.
Jane gasped, imagining Heidi looking straight at her. Jane
instinctively bolted from the conference room.
She didn't speak about it, she tried not to think about it,
and in fact Jane tried to put the whole incident behind her. By
now she had heard from multiple sources how Heidi was servicing
Bart, but to see it firsthand... that was something different. Now
every time she saw either of them, she would automatically think of
them in... in undignified ways.
Jane tried to put it out of her mind and to focus on her work.
After a while she succeeded in calmly down sufficiently and before
she knew it she was grinding away again. And then, later that
afternoon, Jane got a surprise. A very pleasant one. Talman was
moving out!
She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her
own eyes. He was packing up all his possessions, his diploma, his
Gilbert's award, everything.
"Where're you going, Tim?" said Jane joyously. What had she
done to deserve such a great day? When she had woken that morning
she hadn't had any inkling that things were going to be so good
today. Jane thought her day would consist of the usual
proofreading assignments coupled with moderate levels of abuse from
the staff and associates, a typical Tolcott Teitelbaum day. The
nudity exhibition had been unexpected, but also unpleasant. But
now Talman moving out... that was unexpected, and yet also
pleasing! Nothing that was pleasing ever happened to Jane at
Tolcott Teitelbaum, not ever!
"I'm moving to the empty office next door," said Tim. "The
one large enough for a senior associate," he added, in case Jane
was unaware of that fact.
Jane's grin faded, but only slightly. "You're going to be
there alone?"
"Yep," said Talman, grinning widely. He wasn't flatulating
now!
Well, at least she would also have an office of her own! It
wouldn't be as large as Talman's, but-
Julia Kern entered the office, carrying a large supply of
notepads. "Where should I put these?"
"Whoa," said Tim, giving Jane a sly smirk. "I'm not moved out
yet. Come back in a half hour."
Jane suddenly had a nasty suspicion. "You're... moving in?"
"Um hm," said Julia, heading for the door.
A paralegal? Jane had to room with a paralegal, while Talman
got his own large office?
"Who ordered this? Teitelbaum?"
"Tolcott," said Tim, giving a smile. "Care to protest?"
"I think I do!" said Jane hotly. She ignored the temptation
to respond to Talman's barbs by saying that he was getting an
office whose size was inversely related to his height. Instead
Jane went to the source, storming into Bart's office. She had no
intention of pursing the matter of the episode at the printers any
further. It was obvious, now, even to her, where Bart's loyalties
lay. But this sort of embarrassment was too much. She could just
imagine it; the act complete, Bart and Heidi lying together naked
on the desk, she with her bald head and he with his dull
expression, with Bart vulnerable to her every whim and desire. She
would have whispered in his ear, "Do something to Jane to teach her
a lesson," and they would titter together, laughing.
When Jane got to his office she found Bart, sitting calmly at
his desk, with Heidi sitting to the side. Both had their clothes
on and Heidi showed no obvious bald spot. Jane ignored Heidi for
the moment and focused her attention on the big man.
"Bart, what's the meaning of this?"
"A little reallocation of office space," said Bart woodenly,
not even pretending not to understand what was going on.
"Is there any other attorney in this firm that has to share an
office with a paralegal?" Jane wanted to know.
Bart stared at Jane. Jane stared back. She stared into deep,
black orbs, that looked like they had died and been dead for
centuries. He stared into fierce blue eyes, that were cuttingly
quick and bright. Neither felt very positively inclined towards
the other at the moment.
"Well?" said Jane finally.
Bart spoke very slowly. "Jane, if you want to get along
you're going to have to shake your reputation as a complainer."
"I'm seen as a complainer? What, I wonder, do I have to
complain about?" said Jane. "Being framed for something I didn't
do at the printers?" And she didn't even look at Heidi. "Or
having to room with a paralegal while my former roomie gets a big
office of his own? And by the way, while I'm at it, I don't have
any work to do. How's that for another complaint?"
Bart sighed. "Why don't you shelve some books?"
"What?" Well, she had left herself open for that one.
"Moss was complaining that you haven't been shelving books.
I want you to shelve some books," said Bart firmly. "It will be a
good learning experience."
Jane opened her mouth. Then she closed it. She turned to
Heidi, who was looking incredibly pleased with herself. She was
smirking quietly, grinning at Jane as if to say, "Gotcha!" Jane,
besides herself for a moment, considered what to do. Then,
something on the ground caught her eye. Reaching down, she picked
up something, and handed it to Heidi. "I believe you dropped
this," Jane said, putting the item in Heidi's hand and then heading
for the door.
Heidi looked down in horror at the item in her hand.
It was a large clump of curly black hair.
Jane had no intention of shelving books and so she avoided
going upstairs entirely, but she hadn't anticipated that Moss would
actually call her from the library. "Jane, I understand that Bart
has finally told you to give me some help," he said. Bad news
travelled fast. Or maybe Heidi had been helpful enough to put in
a call to Moss to make him aware of the situation.
"So," said Jane guardedly.
"Well? Are you coming now, or should I bring the books to
you?"
Jane made a face. Bart had ordered it. There was no getting
out of it, this time, unless she could talk to Mr. Teitelbaum. It
was nearly 4 PM, so he was probably still out of the office on his
midafternoon snack break.
Jane, bereft of options, slowly made her way to the library,
marching like a defeated prisoner of war on her way to internment.
Moss was waiting for her upstairs.
"Get down on those skirts and start shelving, missy," he said
with relish.
Jane sighed heavily, eyeing the piles and piles of books.
Probably this backlog extended back for a week. This definitely
was not her day.
She started shelving the books, slowly and mechanically.
Fortunately Moss didn't have much of an interest in supervising
her; he spent his time in his little office, smoking a cigar and
talking to a friend on the phone. Jane plodded through her task.
And then, all of a sudden, she heard a noise. Not a very loud
noise, but definitely a noticeable one. It was a high pitched,
mechanical whine, and it irritated Jane's ears. She looked about,
but could see no one.
She resumed shelving the books, but the persistence of the
noise irritated her. And then she heard other sounds, lip smacking
sounds.
Lick lick chop chop. Lick lick chop chop. Lick lick chop
chop. The sound was as unending as the high pitched whine. As
irritating, too.
Jane made a careful inspection of the library. Was she losing
her mind? But there appeared to be no one there... or was there?
She rechecked a study carol that had been empty moments ago. Sure
enough, there was a man sitting there.
An old man.
He might have been 70, or he might have been 80, or even 90.
The one thing that Jane was certain about was that he was old, very
old. He was bald, totally hairless but for his eyebrows, and his
face was terribly wrinkled. His lips were extremely chapped, and
he was constantly pressing them together, and licking with his
lips, as if he were chewing something.
Lick lick chop chop.
And then Jane noticed the hearing aid in his left ear, and
suddenly knew the source of the high pitched sound.
The noise evidently travelled some distance, because Moss
quickly came out of his office. "Ernie, what are you doing here?"
"Huh?" said the old man. He looked dumbfounded.
"Go! Beat it! Scram, you dirty old man!" said Moss. He
motioned for Moss to get up.
"But I'm reading this magazine!" He rasped.
"Take it back to your office, maggot! Scat! Scram!"
Jane just watched open-mouthed. "How can you talk to a
partner that way?" And why wasn't this Ernie person getting upset
with Moss for being addressed in this way?
"Ernie? He's no partner," Moss scoff. "He's of counsel." Of
counsel was a lower paying but nonetheless respectable position for
senior attorneys on a fixed salary.
"Still, to call him a dirty old man!" Jane was stunned. How
come the old man didn't react?
Moss laughed. "Because he is a dirty old man." He wrinkled
his nose. "He never bathes. As for why he didn't react, well,
everyone knows Ernie Wafford is nearly deaf. Been that way for
years. You'd have to yell in his ear for him to hear something,
and that's when his hearing aid had batteries. You heard that high
pitched sound? That means his hearing aid needs a recharge."
"What does he do here?"
"Not much," said Moss. "He used to work part time in the
Bronx office. Once the firm closed it down, they didn't have the
heart to fire him, so they give him a sinecure here. When he was
younger he used to work in as a staff member on Assembly Ways and
Means."
"That must have been a long time ago," said Jane, shivering.
She didn't want to look like that when she got old.
"About ten years ago. Ernie's only 60, you know."
"60? Only 60?"
"Yeah, he went to pot really quick. Now you've spent enough
time goldbricking. Get back to work... maggot!" Grinning, Moss
went back to his office.
The next day Jane didn't want to get assigned to library work
again, so she went looking for new work, making the round of the
partners' offices. It was early, so many of the partners were not
yet in. When she passed by Mr. Kentrust's office, she noticed the
door was open only a crack. Jane raised her hand to knock, but
instead merely pushed the door open a few inches.
Mr. Kentrust was standing in front of a tall mirror, modeling
shiny black leather pants on himself. In his left hand he held a
long black whip.
Jane quickly but quietly took several steps backwards.
Something was definitely wrong here, and she wanted no part of it.
Later that day...
"Mr. Kentrust? So you caught him in leather, did you?" said
Sam Bertow, giving a grin.
"What does it all mean?" said Jane. "And who was that woman
I saw in his office that night? His wife?"
Bertow gave a broader grin. "He's not married. If I know
Kentrust, that wasn't a woman."
"Wasn't a woman? Then who...."
"It was Kentrust himself, of course. You yourself told me you
never saw both him and the woman at the same time."
"Mr. Kentrust is a... crossdresser?"
"We prefer to say that he experiments with transgenderal
identities," said Bertow sincerely.
"Transgenderal identities!" This was all a shock for Jane.
But after seeing Heidi, bald, rolling on the desk with Bart during
office hours, should she have been any more surprised?
"You notice that he has messengers bring all his deliveries in
person," said Bertow, giving a wink.
"No," said Jane, not getting the hint.
"Well, he does. They say he likes personal service."
"What... oh." Jane blushed, then sighed. "I take it back.
I don't want to know any more." She wondered what secrets lurked
in the background of the other attorneys here. Was David Kapnick
a gigolo? Nothing would surprise her now. Well, some things
would. Tim Talman in a dress, for example. On the other hand, if
he wore high heels, she could see that making sense....
Jane's next assignment came from Mr. Kirch. He glared at her
with his heavy eyeballs. "We want you to go to the home office of
Ready Metals, in Shortland Hills, to do some due diligence."
Shortland Hills, Shortland Hills... was that in upstate New
York?
"Should I take a cab there, or will I need to take a bus?"
Jane asked.
Kirch's eyes bulged out at her, even more than usual, and he
growled, "It's in North Dakota, girl! You're going to have to
fly."
North Dakota! They were sending her to North Dakota to do
diligence work! Due diligence, the bane of every corporate
lawyer's existence, the tedious task of reviewing hundreds or even
thousands of documents before a merger or an acquisition.
"I know what you're thinking. I know you've complained about
not getting better work," said Kirch. "The assignment will only
take you three or four days. When you get back, you can work on
drafting an asset purchase agreement with me, if all goes well."
Jane frowned. Kirch was being uncharacteristically generous.
What was the catch?
"Now, when you go there, I want you to review all the purchase
and sale documents of the company to see what sort of liability
exists, and put it all together in a memo. You've already gotten
good experience doing this once before, so you shouldn't have any
questions," he said, handing her plane tickets.
The experience that Kirch referred to was only too clear in
her memory. Good experience! She had labored through New Year's
on due diligence, and all for nothing!
Jane noticed that Kirch had cleverly cut off any questions
with his last statement. He was already looking down at his
papers, ignoring her. She had already been dismissed.
Jane left his office and returned to her own, looking at the
plane tickets. Julia Kern, her new roommate, greeted her as she
entered. Jane had gotten through the initial ribbing of having a
paralegal for a roommate, and actually had gotten to the point of
finding it rather pleasant. Julia was a great improvement over
Talman, of course. The only thing that bothered Jane was Kern's
frequent trips to "consult" with Bart, often for an hour at a time.
It was obvious what was going on there. It seemed that any woman
who wanted to get ahead in the firm, even a lowly paralegal, needed
to pay tribute to Bart.
Jane casually looked at her tickets. She was flying TWA coach
fair to Fargo, North Dakota, and then taking a Blue Fields flight
to Shortland Hills. Blue Field Airlines? Jane had never heard of
them. Jane also noticed that the TWA flight was making stops in
Pittsburg, Memphis, and Chicago. This wasn't an airflight, this
was a bus! Probably the firm had gotten a cheaper airfare to save
money. But wouldn't the airfare be charged to the client,
permitting Jane to be put on a better flight?
Jane thought of Kenneth, and figured out what he must have
done. Kenneth would probably have billed the client for a first
class direct flight ticket, and then have found the cheapest flight
for Jane and then split the difference with the partners. She
nodded, satisfied; that made sense to her.
But what Jane failed to notice for at least several minutes
was her time of departure. 12:04 PM.
Jane looked at her watch. It was just before 10 AM now. And
it would take at least an hour to get to the airport, and she
needed to be another hour early to check in. There would be barely
enough time to get home and shove a few clothes in a suitcase.
Jane dashed out of the office.
She ran home and arrived there breathless. She opened a small
valise, first shaking it to empty it of cockroaches and cockroach
eggs. At one point Jane had had the landlord put down white powder
that would kill the bugs in their tracks, but the powder had raised
a terrible smell in the apartment and in any event only got rid of
the miserable creatures for a few days. So Jane had learned to
live with the bugs. Jane connected this minor suffering with one
of many other indignities she had to suffer through at work; it was
as if her home were an extension of her work, as if she lived in
Tolcott Teitelbaum housing.
Hastily stuffing a few clothes into her valise, she bolted out
the door. She started to run down the block, searching frantically
for a cab, when-
When Jane suddenly turned around, ran back into her apartment
building, went up the elevator, unlocked her door, picked up her
airline tickets from off the bed, locked the apartment door again,
and raced to the elevator.
As Jane sat in a cab heading for the airport she realized she
felt good. True, she was going halfway across the country to do
due diligence, the lowest of the low for any corporate attorney,
even at Tolcott Teitelbaum. But on the other hand, she would be
out of the office for a few days. She wouldn't be exposed to
Kapnick's taunting, Heidi's yellings, Bart's depravities, or
Kirch's bulging eyes. By contrast, doing due diligence work
outside of the office would seem like a summer vacation. Maybe
this wouldn't be so bad after all.
Jane boarded her TWA flight without incident. The only
annoyance came when she found herself sitting in the smoking
section; Kenneth, naturally, hadn't thought to ask Jane her
preference. But Jane ignored the smoky haze around her, as she
ignored the inconvenience of stopovers in Pittsburg, Nashville, and
Chicago. She even ignored the fact that they were grounded for two
hours in Illinois for technical trouble. She did worry a little
about missing her connecting flight in Fargo. She looked at her
Blue Fields ticket; the odd thing was, it didn't have a time of
departure on or accompanying the ticket. That was odd; what could
this mean?
When the plane landed in Fargo, Jane found out. It was
early evening, and it was just after 7 PM, local time. Jane walked
through the small passenger terminal, which seemed in the process
of closing down for the night. TWA... Northwestern... United...
and that was it, there were no other airlines! Where was Blue
Fields?
She looked at her ticket. There was no phone number. Jane
searched out the information desk, but it was already closed. What
would she do now?
Jane used her credit card to call the firm. She dialed Mr.
Kirch. There was no answer. Then she tried Kenneth, but he was
predictably gone as well. She called reception.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum," said the receptionist.
"Sally, this is Jane," said Jane.
"Oh, Jane, hello!" said the receptionist brightly.
"Listen, I'm here in North Dakota-"
"North Dakota! What are you doing there!"
"I need to speak to Mr. Kirch-"
"I'll connect you," said Sally.
"Wait!" Jane cried. But it was too late; the call was
connected, and after a few rings she was hooked into Kirch's voice
mail. She pressed the zero button to be connected to the operator.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum," said Sally.
"Sally, this is Jane-"
"Didn't I connect you to Mr. Kirch? Here, let me-"
"No! Please, do not connect me to Mr. Kirch!" Jane fretted.
This call was costing her money!
"Then why did you want to be connected to him?" said Sally,
puzzled. "Hold on, got another call." Jane was put on hold.
Jane fretted, looking around the airport. Everyone was making
an orderly departure from the building. It looked as if the place
was shutting down for the night.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum," came Sally's voice.
"Sally, this is Jane," said Jane.
"Jane, that's right, you wanted to be connected to Mr. Kirch-"
"NO!" Jane screamed. "Sally, just listen. Do you know if Mr.
Kirch is still in the office?"
Sally checked a list. "Why no, he left for the day. Would
you like me to connect you to his voicemail?"
"No," said Jane quickly. "Is Kenneth also gone as well?"
A pause. "Yep."
"Listen, do you have the directory listing Kenneth's home
number?"
"Yes, just a minute, got another call-" she put Jane on hold.
And on hold.
And on hold.
After ten minutes had passed (Jane meticulously checked her
watch), Jane hung up and redialed.
"Tolcott Teitelbaum!" said Sally.
"Sally, this is Jane. Don't connect me to Mr. Kirch!"
"Mr. Kirch? Why, just a moment-"
Jane sighed, and a moment later pressed the button to return
to the operator. "Sally, don't press any buttons. Please. Just
listen," pleaded Jane. "I want you to look up Kenneth's home
number." Kenneth had made the reservations, he should be able to
help.
"Sure, just a minute." She put the phone down with a clatter.
Jane heard her humming as the background as she flipped through the
pages. And then, finally, "Here it is, Jane," she said, reading
her a number.
Jane rapidly wrote it down on a piece of paper. "Thanks," she
said, hanging up. She quickly dialed Kenneth's number.
The phone rang a number of times, and then the recorded sound
of a deep masculine voice answered. "Welcome to the erogenous
zone. Get your pants off and get ready for some hot phone
pleasuring. First get your credit card number handy-"
So much for getting Kenneth's number from Sally. She had
probably given Jane someone else's number by mistake. Perhaps Mr.
Kentrust's.
Jane tried one last time, calling New York information for
Kenneth's number. But either he lived outside of New York or, more
likely, had an unlisted number.
Jane hung up the phone. She was truly alone.
She wandered around the airport terminal a bit. What would
she do now? Where would she go?
She was in such a daze that she practically bumped into a
policeman who was walking her way. "Time to leave, little miss.
The terminal is closing for the night."
"But I need to find my connecting flight," said Jane. Her
legs were aching and her mind was cloudy; she was really tired from
the first part of her trip.
The policeman frowned. "There aren't any more connecting
flights out of this terminal today."
"How do I get in touch with Blue Fields airlines?" Jane asked.
"Blue Fields... Blue Fields...." For a moment Jane worried
that the man was going to say that he never heard of it.
"Oh yes," he said, brightening. "I should know that. Blue
Fields is in Terminal B, next door."
"Is Terminal B still open?" Jane asked.
"Sure, they're open until about 10 PM," said the office.
"Thanks!" said Jane.
Terminal B. She had never considered the fact that the
airline might be in another terminal!
She went out the door and looked to the right. Sure enough,
there was a large terminal right there, just a few hundred feet
away. Jane walked there leisurely, dragging her valise on wheels.
When she got into the terminal, it was almost deserted. She
saw some people in mechanics' and pilots uniforms walking around,
but no passengers. Odd.
Jane found the signs pointing to Blue Fields, and went over to
the counter. A man in greasy coveralls was sorting through a pile
of mail. This was stranger and stranger. What kind of terminal
was this?
Jane cleared her throat, and the man in the greasy coveralls
looked up. "I have a reservation for a Blue Fields flight," she
said, getting ready to show her ticket.
"Oh, you must be Jane," said the man, breaking out the broad
smile.
"How did you know that?" said Jane, frowning.
"You're our only passenger!" said the man. "In fact, you're
the first passenger we ever carried."
An uneasy sensation started to form in Jane's stomach. "What
do you mean?"
"Well, you know we're a cargo airline, right? I mean, this is
the cargo terminal you're in," said the man.
A cargo airline. Jane was going to travel on a cargo plane.
"As I said, we never take passengers before, but your Mr.
Kenneth was quite persuasive," said the man. "Listen, we were
supposed to leave an hour ago. I've got a cargo of chicken feed to
get to Shortland Hills tonight. Let's go."
They walked out of a back door onto the runway area, and
entered a small hanger. Jane coughed as she entered the small
windowless cargo plane as the pungent smell of animals filled her
lungs. She looked at the dark cargo hold filled with boxes and
crates. "Where do I...."
"Up front with me!" said the pilot. He introduced himself as
Stan Cort. He gestured for Jane to sit in the empty chair to his
right.
"Where will your copilot sit?" said Jane, nervously strapping
herself in.
"Don't need one," Cort grinned. "Get ready... here we go!"
He gunned the engines forward.
It was an unsettling experience, flying in the cockpit of a
small plane. When they were airborne Jane couldn't help but look
down and shrink back in her seat.
And every so often the plane rattled a bit, as if something
were not quite right.
"What is that?" said Jane, after a particularly noticeable set
of tremors.
"That? Oh you mean the vibrations. We recently did some work
on the right wing. Probably the screws need to be tightened a bit.
Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
But Jane didn't get used to it, and she spent the rest of the
trip glancing worriedly out at the right side of the plane.
The trip was short, at least, not more than an hour time
actually in flight. In that time they travelled to the western
edge of South Dakota. When they landed Jane shook Cort's hand.
"What was that for?" Cort asked.
"A show of gratitude," said Jane, glad to be walking on the
ground again.
The Shortland Hills airport was an airport only in the
strictest sense--a runway, two hangers, a small control tower, and
to the side, a parking lot for cars. There was no passenger
terminal to be seen, probably because passenger planes did not stop
here. "I'll give you a ride into town," Cort offered.
"Thanks," said Jane. Kenneth had made reservations for her at
the Shortland Hills Motor Lodge. That couldn't be too bad, could
it?
It was after dark when they reached the motor lodge. Jane
checked into the motel both looking and feeling weary. When she
got to her room, a spartan ten foot by ten foot square box reeking
of antiseptic, she collapsed on the bed. As she faded in and out
of consciousness, she noticed small bugs crawling along the floor,
and she realized that she hadn't really left home behind after
all....
The next day Jane put in a call to the Shortland Hills office
of Ready Metals. They were gracious enough to send a car to pick
her up, seeing as Shortland Hills didn't have cab service.
Ready Metals was located in a modest three story building on
the main road leading into town. She was greeted by one Randy
Brown, a junior vice president of the company.
"One thing I gotta ask," said Jane, entering the building.
"Why are you headquartered in such an isolated location? Is this
where your metals are located?"
Brown didn't take offense. In fact he laughed. "No," he
said, "We're in this state for tax reasons. Your firm helped set
it up."
"Oh."
Brown got her started on the documents. "These rows of boxes,
from here to here, are all our contracts to buy and sell products.
We also have filing cabinets filled with leases and inventory
statistics-"
"No," said Jane quickly, "I was just told to look at contracts
to purchase and sell products."
"Very well," said Brown. "I'll be two doors down. Tell me if
you need anything."
Jane got down to work. Her last due diligence assignment had
helped her develop mental calluses, and she found that the she
could do more of the deathly boring work without becoming tired.
Thus it was at the end of the first day that she noted to herself
with satisfaction how much she had accomplished, and realized that
she would be going home after only two more days of exertion. She
could deal with that.
And two days later, much as she predicted, she was done. She
wouldn't have called her experience pleasant by any stretch of the
word, but she had completed the assignment more quickly and
efficiently then she otherwise would have thought possible. She
was worn out, of course, but now was the time that Jane had the
luxury to collapse, and rest, on the trip going back.
Brown drove her back to the airport. She was so exhausted
that she didn't pay attention to the rumblings of Cort's plane, and
was even asleep when a frowning Cort, noticing a red warning light
in the cockpit, slammed the cockpit instrumentation, and relaxed
only when the light turned green again.
Jane slept through much of the passenger flight home too, only
waking up when the plane bobbed up and down in rough air somewhere
over Ohio.
When she returned to New York she was still tired, and made
sure to get a good night's sleep, and the next day went in to work
on and wordprocess her memo. It would have been better if she had
had a secretary to do that, like the other attorneys did, but Jane
did not complain. And when the memo was done she put it on Kirch's
desk, and that was the end of that.
Kirch called her into his office an hour later, and Jane,
figuring that he was calling about that interesting drafting
assignment he had promised, fetched pen and paper, and put in an
appearance at his office.
But Kirch did not summon her for congratulations. He was in
a growling mood. "What is this?" he said, slamming the memo on his
desk.
Jane frowned. "That's my diligence memo."
"Really? Where's the rest of it?"
"The rest of it?" said Jane, not understanding.
"The diligence on their leases," said Kirch. "This is just
the asset purchase and sale stuff."
"You didn't ask for that!" Jane cried out. "You just
requested-"
"Don't tell me what I said, young lady!" said Kirch. "You
were also supposed to look at the leases. It's obvious that you
didn't. Correct?"
"But-"
"Correct?"
"Correct," said Jane, lowering her head.
"Well, that means you'll just have to go back to North Dakota
and finish the job," said Kirch, giving her a maniacal glare.
"What? What about the drafting assignment-"
"Seems to me that you'll be too busy in North Dakota for that.
Don't worry, I'll have Tim handle that."
Jane left his office in shell shock. She knew for a certainty
that Kirch had never asked her to look at leases. Now that he had
realized he needed them he was blaming Jane to cover up his own
error. Jane gritted her teeth. She really hated this!
And so Jane got on a plane that took her back to Fargo, and
another plane that took her back to Shortland Hills. And she
completed the diligence in four hours flat, because the leases were
only in two boxes, and then she prepared to head home.
"We could have sent them to you, you didn't have to come all
the way back here," said Brown gently. He was completely oblivious
to the stupidity of work at Tolcott Teitelbaum.
Jane said nothing. She completed the task, and returned home,
where she completed the memo, and left it on Kirch's desk.
But the next day, Friday, she called in sick, and no one saw
her until the following Monday.
"They're really getting on my nerves, Denise."
"I know, Jane."
"I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"Jane, you can't leave a firm after you've only been there six
months. It doesn't look good."
"This place is driving me crazy."
"Be strong, Jane. Just for a while longer."
Jane returned to work that Monday morning in a state of mild
melancholy. Talman came for a visit even before she had gotten her
coat off. He was boasting about his workload.
"I just completed an important document for Mr. Kirch," he
said, grinning slyly. "Can you guess what it is?"
Jane said nothing.
"It was a very interesting asset purchase agreement," said
Talman. "I heard you were supposed to do this, but were busy
elsewhere... on other pressing matters."
Jane turned to ignore him, but she faced him instead. "You
know, Tiny Tim, I miss having you for a roommate," she said.
He flinched at the epithet, but said nothing.
"Since you're not rooming with me I guess I won't be needing
this anymore," said Jane, and she slipped the can of air freshener
into her handbag.
Julia Kern stifled a chuckle, which Tim caught. He turned
red, glared at her, and left the office.
Jane continued to lobby for a real litigation assignment.
After all, she had been promised some litigation work. (But then,
she had been promised many things....) Finally her petitioning had
an effect and she was put on a case with Mr. Ailing and Mr.
LaGossi. Mr. Ailing was to be the senior partner on the case but
she would also be taking instructions from Mr. LaGossi.
Jane was called to Mr. Ailing's office so that he could
explain the assignment. She found Mr. Ailing dancing with himself
in his office, while "La Bamba" played loudly over the radio.
Jane called out his name, but he was facing away, and
apparently didn't hear her, so intent was he on watching his dance
steps.
"Mr. Ailing! Mr. Ailing!" Jane cried.
"Oh lalalala bamba!" said Ailing, dancing with himself, his
back to Jane.
And then Jane stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder.
That got his attention.
With a hurt look on his face he turned down the radio. But
then he burst into smiles. "Jane! What are you doing here?"
"You called me," said Jane, looking confused. How could he
not know that?
"Oh, that's right," said Ailing brightly. "The assignment.
You know, I got all caught up in the latin rhythm and totally
forgot about that." He smiled disarmingly, gesturing for Jane to
sit down.
Jane took a seat, taking a hard look around at Ailing's office
for the first time. Most lawyers had stacks of law books in their
offices, but Ailing had relatively few of those. Instead he had a
number of unusual objects, ranging from a monkey mask perched on
one shelf to toy soldiers on his desk to a poster of a man's face
with a wide maniacal grin under which read the caption "AND NOW WE
MUST LIMBADA!". A lifelike human head with the top removed sat on
Ailing's desk, filled with candies.
"Ah yes, the assignment," said Ailing. "I guess the sooner we
get down to business, the sooner I can get back to my dance steps,
eh?" And he gave a mischievous grin.
Jane returned the smile nervously.
"One of our clients, a prominent corporation, is having a
little bit of a problem with its shareholders. A few malcontented
shareholders are suing on the grounds that they haven't received
any dividends for a little while."
Jane dutifully wrote down the details. "A little while? How
long is that?"
Ailing stretched his hands behind his head, stifling a yawn.
"Oh, I don't know. Seven years, maybe. Anyhow, they're suing, the
ungrateful bastards are suing. So that's the facts, and here is
the client matter number," he said, reading it off in a bored
fashion. "I guess we're done," he said, getting up to go to his
radio.
"Wait," said Jane. "Is there something you want me to do?"
"To do?" Ailing blinked slightly. "Oh yes, the research.
Find out if we can quash the suit at trial. Check with LaGossi on
your progress. Hm, hm hm hm," he said, waltzing over to his radio.
Jane got to work. She spent the next two days carefully
preparing her research and following up leads. It was slow,
tedious work, for each case she found would often lead to six
others. In addition, much of the caselaw she found was confusing
and unclear. Jane spent a few minutes puzzling over one such
passage which read:
The plaintiff corporation is guilty in that it failed to
abide by the rule set forth in this court, but an
exception exists where the corporation filed its amended
statement before the onset of the preliminary motion.
However, if the plaintiff corporation filed such amended
statement in a calculated effort to sway the proceedings
in a dilatory manner, then the aforementioned exception
would not apply unless the former is given more weight
than the latter, in which case the rule would be deemed
to be without exception except as the exception complies
with the rule as set forth in this decision.
After reading several dozen passages like this Jane found that
her mind was slowly being grinded into hamburger. But this was
litigation, this was the work she was asking for, and even if it
wasn't high-profile first amendment work, which was her first love,
Jane was going to persevere.
At the end of two days she reported to Mr. LaGossi, as Mr.
Ailing had requested. Jane had mixed feelings about going to Mr.
LaGossi. When she had first encountered Mr. LaGossi at the Queens
office she had found him to be a nasty fellow. But at least there
was a chance that he would offer clearer instructions than Mr.
Ailing, who, while being a genuinely nice guy, was also more than
a bit crazy.
LaGossi's office was decorated in a very different way from
Ailing. He had law books on his shelves, as many lawyers did. But
he also had a swimsuit calendar tacked onto his walls. And there,
in the corner, were a pile of Playboy magazines!
What did his clients think? Did LaGossi meet his clients here
in the Manhattan office? Was he just being careless by leaving
them out? What was going on here?
LaGossi was a heavyset man, like most of the partners at
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch, with large
jowls and a double chin. "Yeah?" he said, looking up when Jane
entered.
Jane explained that she had come to report on the research
that she had started for Mr. Ailing. "Let's hear it," he said,
without blinking. Jane fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. She
wasn't sure, but it seemed like Mr. LaGossi was staring at her
chest.
Jane started to recite her findings, but as she did so she
noticed that Mr. LaGossi started to frown. She kept on going, but
Mr. LaGossi only frowned deeper and deeper. Finally he exploded.
"What is this? Why are you wasting my time with this crap!"
"Wha... what?" said Jane, confused. Hadn't she researched the
issue carefully? Hadn't she gone through all the caselaw properly?
What had she missed, where had she gone wrong?
"This is useless!" said LaGossi. "All this stuff relates to
what we can do at trial!"
"So?" said Jane, still unenlightened.
"We want to find out what we can do to drop the case before
trial!" LaGossi glowered. "This research you did is useless!
Useless!"
"But... Mr. Ailing told me-"
"Don't try to blame it on someone else!" LaGossi growled.
"Now get out there and do it right!"
Jane left. She immediately realized what had happened;
Ailing, caught up with his dance steps and everything else going on
in his own little world, had misspoke about nature of the
assignment. And since partners at Tolcott Teitelbaum didn't make
mistakes, it was Jane who took the blame, Jane who had wasted two
days of work.
So Jane embarked on another two days of research. When she
was done she verbally reported her results again to Mr. LaGossi.
This time he nodded slightly in satisfaction. "That's
better," he said, when she had finished her report. "If your head
is half as good as your ass you'll do all right here."
Jane said nothing; how could she respond to a comment like
that?
"Now do up a memo," said LaGossi, casually reaching up with a
finger to clean his left nostril. But all Jane noticed were his
eyes, pointed directly at her. A certain part of her anatomy.
"And be thorough. The client expects to be billed well for this."
Jane got up to leave, now keenly aware that LaGossi's eyes
were fixed on her rear. She felt like a side of beef.
She talked about it with her parents that night.
"He's obviously a boor," said her father. "Some corporate
cultures are like that."
"Yes, but what do I do?" said Jane.
"Be tough," said her father. "Don't react to it, and he'll
stop. He's probably just doing it to get a reaction."
"Dear, can't you talk to Mr. Tolcott about this?" said her
mother. "Isn't he kind of your men-tor?"
Jane had had too much on this subject even before it had
begun. "Mom, first of all, Bart is no mentor. Second of all, the
partners here stick together, and if I complained I would get
blamed. And third of all Bart does a lot of fooling around on his
own!" Jane suddenly realized how useless it was to talk to her
parents about this subject. She would just have to be tough and
survive as best she could.
But she wouldn't tolerate any sexist advances from Mr.
LaGossi. If LaGossi thought for a moment that she was going to be
like Heidi Blakelock was to Bart Tolcott, he would be sorely
disappointed.
The next day Jane started working on her memo for Mr. LaGossi.
But she had only been working on it for an hour when she realized
that she didn't know if LaGossi wanted it in the form of a general
issues memo or a specific memo to the client.
Much as she loathed the thought of returning to LaGossi, she
realized that further instruction was a necessity. Jane, bracing
herself, went into his office.
But he wasn't there. Jane checked with his secretary, and
found out that he wasn't going to be in until the afternoon.
What should she do? Should she just sit around for a few
hours until the afternoon? She had no other work; if she asked for
other assigments, she might be sent to shelve books in the library
once again.
She decided to go to Mr. Ailing. Surely he would know what
sort of memo was required. After all, it was his client.
Mr. Ailing was sitting in front of his computer screen.
Before she could say a word he said, "Ah, Jane! Good that you're
here! Quick, who am I?" He quickly put on some dark glasses, and
then he started typing on a musical keyboard that Jane had not
noticed in his office before.
Every key he pressed caused a musical note to come out of the
computer, and Jane noticed a mock keyboard on the screen in front
of him. Mr. Ailing played a little tune, smiling serenely while
slowly rotating his head, from left to right, right to left.
Finally, when he was done he removed the glasses. "Well?" he
said expectantly.
Jane was silent; she wasn't sure what she should say.
"Stevie Wonder! Couldn't you tell?"
Jane coughed diplomatically. "I have a question about this
memo...."
"Oh, always work, always work," said Ailing crossly. "All
right, all right, what is it?"
Jane asked if he needed a general issues memo or one that was
client specific. Ailing pondered the question for precisely half
a second and shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't matter. Make it
general." He turned back to his keyboard. "And now... a number!"
Jane returned to work, ignoring the tunes coming out of
Ailing's office. She sat down in the library... and then stopped.
After being fooled once by Mr. Ailing's wrong instructions, was she
really going to permit herself to be fooled again?
No, rather than waste her effort and get Mr. LaGossi mad at
her again, she would wait until LaGossi returned and ask him.
Instead Jane went out to do some shopping. She found it very
exhilarating, much as does a prisoner who is on a brief parole.
When she returned to LaGossi's office in the afternoon she
found him at his desk, reading a magazine. When Jane came a little
closer and saw what he was reading she started to turn red.
"Reading" would be a strong word to describe the pictures he was
looking at.
LaGossi, hardly embarrassed at being discovered in this way,
gave Jane a lecherous grin. "It's not something neither of us
haven't seen before, have we?"
Jane tried to speak but her throat felt dry. Finally,
clearing her throat, she said, "I have a question about the memo,"
and she asked it.
"General or specific? Specific, of course," said LaGossi,
saying the opposite of what Ailing had said. It figured. Well, at
least Jane had not allowed herself to be fooled by Mr. Ailing
again. Mumbling her thanks, she left LaGossi's office. She
thought she heard a whistle as she left, but whether it was for her
or the objects of attention in LaGossi's magazine, she wasn't sure.
Jane stumbled as she heard the sound, and then she was out the
door. She thought of making an issue of it, but it had been an
ambiguous sound....
Jane would be terribly glad to be totally done with this
assignment. Suddenly she was not terribly unhappy to have been
primarily assigned to the corporate department. Mr. Tolcott might
be a rabid womanizer, but he had never made a move on Jane or made
her feel uncomfortable in that way. If Jane had been assigned to
the litigation department she would have found it impossible to
work with Mr. Ailing and intolerable to work with Mr. LaGossi.
Jane wrote the memo in the library, directly typing from her
notes onto the computer screen. She was making good progress, too,
until she started hearing familiar sounds.
Familiar, lipsmacking sounds.
Familiar lipsmacking sounds combined with a high pitched
whine. Without looking to her left Jane heard someone sit down in
the cubicle next to her.
It was Ernie. He was sitting there, reading a magazine, and
every two point five seconds he would smack his lips, as if he were
still chewing on something that he had eat for breakfast two weeks
ago.
Jane attempted to ignore him. At least she didn't have to
look at him.
Lip smack smack. Lip smack smack. Lip smack smack. Lip
smack smack.
And then came the smell. It was a gradual odor, at first, but
grew progressively stronger. It was like the smell of... well,
manure, the kind of persistent smell you get when you step into
something and it takes you a few minutes to realize what you've got
under your foot.
Jane started coughing, feeling a bit dizzy. This was too much
for her. The library needed to put up a canary in a cage, to warn
of the coming of Mr. Wafford. She signed off the terminal, and
collected her papers.
Ernie suddenly chose to recognize her. "Hello," he said.
"Hello. Can you help me find a magazine?"
Jane looked around for somewhere to go. But all the computer
terminals were here in the corner. Next to Ernie. She would have
to leave.
"Hello," said Ernie. "Can you help me?" Lip smack smack.
"Sorry, I don't work in the library," said Jane.
"What?" said Ernie. Suddenly the whine from the dead
batteries in his hearing aide were especially acutely noticeable to
Jane, setting her teeth on edge.
"Talk to the librarian!" said Jane, louder.
"What?" said Ernie.
"TALK TO THE LIBRARIAN!" said Jane, preparing to go.
"Library? We are in the library," said Ernie.
Jane, sighing, rapidly scribbled the message on a piece of
paper, handing it to him.
Ernie took the paper, but didn't really look at it. "You
wrote down where the magazine is? Now where are my reading
glasses?"
Jane fled, returning to her office. Normally in the absence
of a computer of her own she would have written the memo out and
had her secretary type it. But since she didn't have a secretary,
Jane would have to write it out and then sneak back to the library
and type the memo at a later date.
Well, at least she had the office to herself. Julia Kern was
not around at the moment. Perhaps she was in consultation with
Bart, as she often was. Jane didn't observe that Julia did very
much legal work... but perhaps she served the firm in other ways.
Jane spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the memo. She
considered typing it up when she returned to work the following
morning, but her experience with Ernie had been so traumatic that
she resolved to do the memo now. It was after 5:30 and all the
secretaries had gone home for the day, so Jane could even use a
secretary's computer without fear of sanction.
Jane sat down at one of their computers, looking for the "on"
switch.
"What are you doing there?"
It was one of the night secretaries, sitting at an adjacent
computer.
"I'm just using this computer."
"That's Michele's computer."
"Michele is gone for the day," Jane noted.
"But you shouldn't use her computer without her permission,"
said the secretary, a lemony expression on her face.
"Why?"
"I don't have to explain myself to you! You might get it
dirty, or break something! Now scram!"
Jane left. She went down to the library, which was empty, and
she spent two solitary hours typing her memo in. Finally, when it
was done, she printed it out, left it on LaGossi's desk (cleverly
avoiding another encounter) and went home.
Later in the week Jane was invited to lunch with Sam Bertow.
She headed for the lunchroom, passing by an unfamiliar man wearing
biking tights and carrying a hand-delivered package.
"You know where Mr. Kentrust's office is?" said the man.
Jane pointed down the hallway.
"Thanks," the man grumbled. "I don't know why I have to
deliver it personally to his office, though."
Jane had some ideas, but she didn't vocalize them. Instead
she entered the lunchroom, where she saw, to her disappointment,
that David Kapnick was sitting with Bertow. Jane sighed, joining
them. Bertow was eating a tuna salad while Dr. Lunch, as he was
called, was devouring his customary ham on rye. "I'm very
disappointed in you, Jane," said Kapnick, taking large bites from
his sandwich. He made large slobbering sounds like an animal being
fed at the zoo.
"Why?" said Jane, not really interested.
He raised a stubby finger at Jane's salad. "That's hardly a
power lunch for a superstar lawyer."
"Maybe I don't care what a superstar lawyer eats," said Jane.
"That's your problem," said Kapnick, eating rapidly. "You
have no drive to get ahead, to succeed. It probably effects your
dating, too. When was the last time you got any?"
"What?" For a moment Jane thought she misheard.
"When was the last time you were on a date?" said Kapnick.
"How many men have you dated in the past six months?"
"I don't have to answer this," said Jane. Why did Kapnick
always get into this?
"You answer," said a voice from behind. It was Ivanova.
"When a man asks you a question, you answer."
What was going on here? "I... I..."
"What does I, I mean?" Kapnick said.
"Since I've come here? I haven't had the time to date
anyone," Jane protested.
"So you've been hard up for dates," said Kapnick.
Bertow raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
Jane decided to finish eating as rapidly as possible. This
was suddenly getting unpleasant. She chewed much more rapidly on
her food, gulping down mouthfuls.
"You know why you're not getting dates, Jane?" Kapnick said.
He waited for a response, but didn't get one. "Attitude. You're
not willing to put out a little. That's why you won't get any
dates, and that's why you won't get ahead here."
"David," said Bertow, sighing. "Jane, don't listen to him."
"I'm not," said Jane, getting up to leave. Suddenly, she had
lost her appetite.
She left her chair, and got ready to leave.
"Hey!"
It was Ivanova.
"What?"
"You leave, you push in chair," said Ivanova. "If we ever in
Russia, you learn some manners quickly."
"Uh huh," said Jane, pushing in the chair quickly.
She headed back to her office. On the way back she passed by
Mr. Kentrust's office again, just as the door was opening. The
bike messenger was just coming out, readjusting his pants around
his waist. He looked at Jane and then looked away, quickly turning
red.
Jane ignored him. Then, two doors later, she saw Tolcott,
Julia Kern and Dana emerging from the supply room, tucking in
various articles of their own clothing. Jane ignored that too.
Jane was finally becoming acclimated to normal life at Tolcott
Teitelbaum.
When she got back to her office, she found on her desk the
memo she had given to Mr. LaGossi. It had a big yellow post-it
that said "Fine, sent to files." On the memo itself were written
the words, "I have only examined the legal conclusions, not the
research upon which this is based", and it was signed L.G. LaGossi.
Jane sighed, but she should have expected it. Mr. LaGossi was
notorious for many things, but perhaps the second most flagrant
thing he was known for was refusing to take responsibility for
anything that happened in the firm. This was just his way of
covering himself.
Jane sighed. 36 weeks. She had been here 36 weeks.
It seemed like forever.
Chapter 5: Summer
And then it was Summer and everything was better.
That's what Jane would have liked to think. Somehow when the
weather improved things always seemed to get better. But not at
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch.
One day Jane was given a new assignment. It was an assignment
that should have lasted a day, or two, or three, at most.
It ended up lasting nearly four months.
"Hey, Jane-o, I have some work for you," said Kapnick, coming
in with a can of coke in one hand and a tall stack of papers in the
others. The former he plopped down on Jane's desk and the latter
he dropped off on the floor.
"Ever do a closing binder?" said Kapnick.
A closing binder. At most firms when a large deal was
concluded all the relevant documents would be put together and
organized into one binder, which would then be photocopied and sent
to all the parties. Denise had told Jane that usually paralegals
were assigned this task, or at least the attorney who had worked on
the transaction. The only thing that surprised Jane was that the
firm hadn't started her on closing binders even earlier.
"I'm familiar with the concept," said Jane dryly.
"Good," said Kapnick. "I need you to put this one together."
He turned to leave-
"Wait!" said Jane. "I wasn't on your deal. I don't know how
these documents should go together, or in what order-"
"Just give it your best shot," said Kapnick. "I'll review
whatever you do." He burped, lurched out of her office, and then
he was gone.
And all that was left was a stack of unruly papers on the
ground. That, and a half finished can of coke on her desk.
It was Julia Kern who turned out to be quite useful, showing
Jane models from other closing binders, giving her tips on how to
put it together. Julia didn't have much else work to do (and
rarely did), and was glad to help. Jane never asked about her
relationship with Bart and the firm, and didn't want to.
But Julia wasn't familiar with the specifics of this deal, and
Jane found that many of the little letters and small opinions that
went into the making of this deal looked very much alike for her.
So she went to Kapnick's office and told him what was confusing
her. "Just put it together the best you can, Jane, and I'll look
at it when you're done," said Kapnick.
So Jane did, working the rest of the day on it. But when she
was ready to show it to Kapnick the following day, he said, "Uh,
not now. Another time." And so Jane put the binder down for the
moment.
But other assignments kept Jane busy. One days she was
ordered to report to Mr. Kentrust's office.
Jane was a little nervous going there, given Mr. Kentrust's
reputation for being a screamer, and the weird things she had
seen....
"Hey, Jane," said Kentrust, looking perfectly normal as he sat
behind his desk. "Gotta job for you." He handed Jane a list.
It was a list of cases. It looked like a list of
constitutional law cases. Was Jane being given some first
amendment work, at last?
"Pull these cases up," said Kentrust. "Pull them up on
LEXIS."
Jane blinked. "That might cost some money, Mr. Kentrust."
Kentrust dismissively waved his hand. "Bill it to office
general. It's my kid, you see. He's doing a research paper in law
school, but he doesn't have time to go to the library to hunt and
peck. I also need a quick memo summarizing these cases, to save
him time. And I need this done by tomorrow, Jane."
So, now Jane was being reduced to doing the homework for the
children of the partners. Well, it couldn't be worse than due
diligence, proofreading, closing binders, or delivering packages to
the Queens office.
Jane went to the library and got started. It was just another
of the many mindless tasks she had been asked to do, and she
complied without thinking, mechanically pulling up the cases. She
took them back to her office and started working on them.
It was at that time that Tim Talman decided to pay her a
visit. "Phew, am I beat," he said, exaggerating fatigue.
"Um," said Jane.
"I just finished a securities offering with Mr. Teitelbaum,"
said Talman. "It was quite a deal, drafting that prospectus." He
bounced up and down on his toes, his height swelling momentarily
with his ego.
"Um," said Jane, still not looking up.
Tim looked down at her cases. "What're you working on? Looks
like litigation."
"Um, no," said Jane.
"Well, what is it?" said Talman.
"It's cases for Harry's kid," said Kapnick, coming into the
office. "I heard him describing it to Jane."
"You're doing homework for Kentrust's kid?" said Talman,
breaking into laughter.
Jane ignored him. "What did I do to earn the pleasure of your
visit, David?"
"Hey, watch the sarcasm," said Kapnick. "You wanted to talk
about the binder, did you not?"
So they went over the binder, while Talman left, chuckling all
the way. Kapnick went over the documents. "No, Jane, this is the
transferor's representation letter, not the transferor's covenant
letter. And this, look, this is an exhibit to the sale agreement,
not the purchase agreement."
"I'm sorry," said Jane. "It might have been easier if I had
worked on the deal, or knew what it's about."
Kapnick missed the irony in her voice. "That's ok, you're
here to learn. Now fix the things I've indicated, and we'll talk
again in a while."
"What about the pile of extras that I can't fit anywhere?"
"Next time," said Kapnick, already out the door.
Jane immediately looked around for the coke can. She hadn't
seen Kapnick bring it in, but she knew it must be somewhere around
here. She looked all over her desk, on her shelves. Nothing.
Jane sat down at her desk. Suddenly, she felt her feet knock over
something, and she felt a splash of wetness. Sighing, she went to
the ladies room to get a paper towel.
Jane was also given work with Amanda Warwick. She had never
worked with Warwick before, a fiery redheaded senior associate who
was in line to become partner. Aside from Heidi, Warwick was the
only other woman in the corporate department. At first Jane had
looked forward to meeting her but as time dragged on she became
shell shocked and reluctant to meet anyone new, especially after
her traumatic experience with Heidi Blakelock. True to his word
Bart had not assigned Jane to work with Heidi again, and Jane did
not miss the shrill shouts of "I want this done, stat!" and the
like.
Jane reached Amanda's office just as she was yelling into the
phone. "Baaaawt!" she yelled. Then, a pause. "I don't care! I
don't want her... No, no," then, looking up, seeing Jane, "Can't
talk now. She's here. G'bye."
Amanda Warwick looked up, giving a false smile. "Jane dear,
how are you?"
"Fine," said Jane. "What can I do for you, Amanda?"
"I need you to write a letter to the fileroom," said Warwick.
"The fileroom?" She should write a letter to a room?
"Yeah, a memo describing the fact that these documents are
being put in the fileroom," said Warwick, handing Jane a pile of
papers.
"All right," said Jane. "I'll get right on it."
Jane went down to the library, and started typing the memo,
quickly reviewing each of the documents. She was making good
progress when all of a sudden she heard a familiar sound.
Lip Smack Smack.
Lip Smack Smack. Lip Smack Smack.
Ernie sat down two chairs away from her.
No Ernie, not now, Jane thought. Well, at least he was two
chairs away. The smell wasn't so bad. But that lip smacking
sound!
Jane resolved to do something. She wouldn't let herself be
driven away. And yet those lip smacking sounds were driving her
crazy, not to mention the high pitched whine from the hearing aid's
dead batteries. But Jane didn't have the stomach to boot the old
man from the library as Moss had once done, even if he did smell
bad.
Jane, squeezing past Ernie, made her way to the reception
desk, where she requested the first aid kit. In moments she was
back at her terminal, typing away.
John Moss came out a few minutes later. He noticed Jane
sitting there, right next to Ernie, who was lip smack smacking
away. But Jane seemed oblivious to it. Moss turned to Jane and
spoke to her as through Ernie like he wasn't even there. "Doesn't
that noise irritate you?"
Jane said nothing, just continued typing.
"Jane?" said Moss. "Are you ignoring me?"
Jane continued to type.
Finally Moss reached out and shook her shoulder. "Jane!"
Jane jumped out of her seat a little. Slowly she removed a
small piece of cotton from each ear. "What?" she said.
"Oh," said Moss. "Never mind."
When Jane was done with the letter to the fileroom she showed
it to Warwick. For several minutes Warwick worked at it with her
red pen. When she was done there were nearly more red marks on the
page than there were typed words.
Jane looked over the comments, eager to learn and grow as a
lawyer. But if she was looking for substantive comments she was
disappointed.
MAKE LEFT MARGIN WIDER said one comment. USE PAST TENSE HAS,
NOT IS, said another. WHY DOES THIS PARAGRAPH HAVE ONLY ONE
SENTENCE? asked another.
Jane sighed, and returned to the library to have another go at
it. When she returned and gave the new version to Warwick she
still had more comments to make, none of them substantive. A
visitor to her office would have thought that she spent most of her
day deciding where to hyphenate words and conforming the length of
one sentence to the next so that the paragraph had "proper rhythm."
As if the fileroom would appreciate this.
In fact Jane went through two more drafts before Amanda was
satisfied, and Amanda sighed heavily all the way. Jane wondered
why Amanda just didn't use a secretary to make these changes but
she said nothing; Jane knew her job description at the firm was
flexible, to say the least. Finally when it was done Amanda said,
"Ok, now just make a copy for me and the fileroom."
Jane complied, making the copies herself. But when she gave
Warwick one of the copies for her own files she heard her say,
"Just a moment."
She looked at Jane. "Did you look at this copy?" She held it
up, waving it like a flag.
"Well... yes."
"Have another look."
Jane looked at the page. It looked fine to her.
Warwick looked at Jane. "This copy is light! And
furthermore, it's crooked."
"Crooked?" It didn't look crooked to Jane.
Warwick wrestled a ruler out of her desk drawer. She lined it
up on the page. Sure enough, the right side of the page was a
fraction of an inch lower than the left side of the page.
"I'll get it fixed," said Jane. Well, live and learn.
Evidently Amanda Warwick had gone to the Dick Brant school of
document preparation. She would have to examine everything she
handed in to Warwick under a microscope.
But as Jane stood at the self service copier, meticulously
fixing the page in place, another thought came to mind. Warwick
didn't want Jane working for her, that much was clear. She had
been on the phone complaining to Bart about her just as Jane had
walked in. Perhaps Warwick was purposefully hazing Jane.
But why? Jane had never done anything to Warwick. If
anything she had expected Warwick, the most senior woman in the
department, to be sympathetic. Later on she asked Bertow about it.
He understood immediately. "Amanda plays ball with the
department very closely. She's survived, and gotten ahead, because
she's considered one of the boys."
"What? Why?"
Bertow looked up at the ceiling. "Let's just say that she's
got ahead by having a very close relationship with Bart."
"Oh no, not her too," said Jane. Suddenly she thought more
about it. "Tell me, am I the only woman in the department not to
sleep with Bart? Is that why I get in so much trouble?"
"I couldn't say," said Bertow, still looking away. "Jane,
these sorts of conversations are dangerous. They'll become more
dangerous unless you keep them to yourself."
"Finally I see what's going on here," said Jane, frowning
deeply. She didn't like this, not one bit at all.
But like it or not Jane needed to continue to work. That
evening she worked in the conference room, studying a stack of
papers that Mr. Kirch had given her. But her mind kept drifting,
because she was very tired. She had not slept well the night
before; she had had some sort of nightmare involving Heidi
Blakelock and Bart Tolcott. Jane vaguely remembered them yelling
at her, "What are you doing out of the file room? Have you
finished your work?", and Jane remembered trying to return to the
file room, but Ivan always kicked her out. There was other
screaming too, but Jane didn't remember much of it.
But now she could not concentrate, and her mind was fading in
and out of the document. She had not turned on the lights in the
conference room, and as the afternoon waned it grew darker and
darker.
And then, before Jane knew it, it was totally dark. She
lifted her head up, looking at the phosphorescent dials on her
watch. It was 10 PM! She must have fallen asleep. She was slowly
looking around for a light switch when she saw one area that was
well lit.
It was across the way, in Bart's office. And there Jane saw
an amazing sight. Amanda was in Bart's office, all alone with the
door closed. And he was slowly taking off her clothes!
The curtains were wide open. The light in the conference room
where Jane sat was off, they must be thinking that no one was
around.
In moments they had striped each other naked. Jane noticed
with clinical interest that Bart had an enormous belly, one only
partially masked by his suit. Amanda kissed him for a moment and
then pushed up on that enormous gut, causing it to sway up and down
for a moment. They both appeared to laugh.
Then Bart sat Amanda down on a large stack of caselaw books
and started working on her. She started responding passionately
but after a moment he stopped, and brandished something in the air.
Handcuffs.
Jane stood very still. Logic told her that she was in the
dark and they were in the light, but she was petrified with fear at
the thought of being discovered. She couldn't even will herself to
move.
Bart slowly positioned Amanda on his desk. He evidently had
four set of handcuffs, and locked each wrist and ankle into the
cuffs, attaching the other ends to the protruding legs of his desk.
When he was satisfied that she was spreadeagled, locked flat on his
desk, ready for the taking, he pulled something else out of the
air.
A black leather whip, perhaps Mr. Kentrust's.
This was too much for Jane. Finding the strength to turn
away, she did, slowly creeping out of the conference room. Moving
as quietly as a mouse, she started to creep to her office to get
her coat. The hallways were deserted. As she passed by Bart's
closed door she heard the sounds of a whip coming down and Amanda
yelling, "OwOw! Oooow! No more, no more! Harder, harder!" Jane
quickly but quietly collected her coat and things and prepared to
leave. She again tiptoed by Bart's door on the way out. The sound
of the body whip was gone, but Amanda was still yelling. "Bawwwt!
You're crushing me with your gut!"
Once she made it to the elevators Jane immediately sprinted
home.
"I can't take it anymore!"
"Jane, calm yourself," said Denise.
"I can't! This whole firm operates like a whorehouse! And
they're so open about it!"
"Calm down," said Denise. "What are you thinking of doing?"
"Quitting! At once, tomorrow morning."
"Jane, you can't do that," said Denise. "You need to have
another job before you leave this job."
"All right," said Jane. "I'll set up an appointment with a
headhunter first thing tomorrow morning."
"Whoa," said Denise. "What are you going to tell the
headhunter?"
"That I want out!"
Denise knew it couldn't be that simple. "You have to be ready
to be a little more specific. For example, you'll be asked why you
want to leave?"
"I'll tell the truth!" said Jane defiantly. "That they're a
bunch of sexist pigs, and I refuse to have sex with them in order
to get ahead!"
"Jane... think for a moment. The headhunter doesn't know you
from a stranger on the street. If you tell that to a prospective
firm, they may just think that you're a troublemaker."
"Me? A troublemaker? Why, because I refuse to be handcuffed
to a desk and hit by a black leather whip?"
"Jane, they're not going to know if your allegations are true
or not. For all they know you might just be hypersensitive."
"Hypersensitive!"
"Look, you know you're telling the truth, and I know you're
telling the truth. But you've got to use a different tact."
"Like what?"
"I don't know... maybe... tell them you want to do more
complex work."
The next morning, Jane was sitting in the offices of Baker
Frontell, Inc., explaining to a professional recruiter named Regina
Alston why she wanted to leave the firm. "I want to do more
complex work," said Jane.
Alston glanced down at your resume. "That's it? That's why
you want to leave after only nine months?"
Jane gulped, nodding. "That's it."
Alston shook her head. "Jane, I wish we could help you, I
really do. We would love to place you. But...."
"But what?"
"But we don't usually place people who have been working less
than two years."
"Make an exception," said Jane adamantly.
"We would love to, but, quite frankly, no firm would take you.
There's a perception, rightly or wrongly, that a person who
attempts to leave a firm in less than two years is damaged goods."
That's what Jane was. Damaged goods.
Her spirit crushed, Jane dully thanked Alston, and left.
Two years. Two years!
She was in her fortieth week now. That meant 64 more weeks to
go, after this one. 64 more weeks!
Jane could hardly stand the thought of it.
When Jane returned to the firm she heard a dreaded voice as
she went to her office. "Jane."
It was Bart. He had never called her before.
"Please come in my office," he said, motioning her in.
Jane's heart was racing. Had she been seen the night before?
Had she been discovered? What was he going to say to her?
Bart looked at Jane with dull eyes. "You're trembling. Is
everything all right?"
Wordlessly, Jane nodded. She avoided looking at the scratches
on the legs of Bart's desk. Now she knew their hidden meaning.
But she gasped when she saw a pile of casebooks, stacked to the
side. The topmost book had a large, liquidy stain on it.
Bart may have caught her glance, but said nothing. "Jane, I
want to talk to you about timesheets."
"Timesheets?" said Jane. Suddenly, her breathing grew easier.
"Accounting says that you've not been submitting them
regularly."
"I'll be sure to do that," Jane promised. Is that what this
was all about? "Is that everything?"
Bart looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded. Jane
made her exit, as gracefully as she could. As she walked down the
hallway she noticed Amanda walking by. Amanda gave her a curt nod,
and Jane returned the favor. Jane noticed that Amanda was walking
stiffly, like an elegant queen. Amanda always walked liked that,
but Jane wondered if she had any special reason to be in pain. She
wondered how hard Bart had whipped her. Or maybe she had crushed
her spine between the hard oak desk and Bart's heavy gut.
Jane returned to her office in a slightly better mood. Her
morale immediately plummeted again, however, when she got the
message that Mr. Kirch wanted to see her. That could never be
good.
"Another board meeting," said Mr. Kirch tartly. He handed her
a stack of materials. "Here, read these."
"When is the meeting?" Jane asked.
"Friday morning," said Kirch.
Today was Tuesday. Well, that gave her a leisurely amount of
time to prepare, at least.
Jane spent Tuesday and Wednesday handling other matters. Word
had spread around of the good work she had done for Mr. Kentrust's
son, and Jane was soon called to help work on a research paper for
one of Mr. Teitelbaum's sons. She worked closely with him on it,
not only doing his research but helping him to write his paper. It
amazed her that anyone who had gotten into law school wrote
sentences like this one:
"I have gotten the cases where they write about statutes of
limitations and I have read the stuff about the statutes of
limitations, and in the biggest case, Shaw V. Gontran, the
judge said that the guy who was suing was very bad because he
did the suing thing in the wrong way."
So Jane polished off his writing a bit, all the while hoping
that she wouldn't be forced to take his exam for him. The young
man she was helping showed his gratitude by trying to make passes
at Jane. She gracefully declined the first one, and then, when he
didn't get the message, she suggested that they continue their
correspondence by phone. Jane was glad when she was finally done.
Jane also had another session with David Kapnick where they
again discussed the closing binder. Kapnick started going over
some of the extra documents with her, but he quickly lost patience,
and left, after only a few minutes.
Other different odds and ends took up time and before Jane
knew it Thursday had come and she knew she needed to spend the day
reading the materials for the next board meeting.
She sat down first thing Thursday morning and started going
through the materials, reading the first memo and then the second.
As she turned to the third memo she noticed a paper sticking out of
the pile. Jane casually pulled the paper out. It contained a
statement which read
Notice
The Board meeting which had been scheduled for Friday the
22nd has been moved up to Thursday the 21st at 9 AM in
the usual location. We hope that this does not
inconvenience anyone.
Jane looked at her watch. It was 11:30 now! She quickly ran
to Mr. Kirch's office. He should be informed!
But Mr. Kirch wasn't there. Jane, quickly getting a sinking
feeling, went to Kirch's secretary, inquiring about his
whereabouts.
"Oh, I think he's at a board meeting this morning. He'll be
back sometime this afternoon."
Shit! Jane raced out the building, clutching the materials
and running at top speed for the offices of Reid Industries, just
four blocks away. But it was high noon before she found herself
slowly turning the handle of the door that lead into the Board
Room.
The chairman of the Board was speaking. "Very well, now
that's that covered, let's stop for lunch."
Suddenly someone noticed Jane entering, and one head turned,
and then another and another, until all members of the Board were
staring at her, not least of which was Mr. Kirch, who had an
murderous expression on his face, his large eyes practically
bulging out of their sockets.
While they were lining up for their lunch Jane took the seat
next to Mr. Kirch. She started to explain but he just silenced
her, whispering, "We'll talk about this later!" But he gave her a
further angry glare for good measure.
The rest of the afternoon was chaotic. The Board continued
the discussion it had been having in the morning, and since Jane
had not been privy to that conversation she quickly became lost in
arcane references to "that report" and "the aforementioned
requirement". Also the fact that she hadn't gotten the chance to
read the memos in advance only heightened her lack of preparation.
And of course she couldn't ask Mr. Kirch any questions, especially
not since she had arrived late.
So Jane simply took notes as best she could, trying to write
more of a transcript than a summary, since she wasn't sure what it
was that she was summarizing). Part of her notes looked like this:
Doctor Drool: Thinks report (which report?) is too short on
specifics.
Droopy Jowels: We've been all over that this morning, doesn't want
to revisit issue, stick by decision made this morning (what
decision?)
Flat Head: Amends report discussed in morning, stating that third
number in first list should be .5 higher (what report? What list?)
And so on. It became clear to Jane that she wasn't going to be
able to compose minutes without at least some explanation after the
fact from Mr. Kirch. And Jane was so rattled that she forgot the
names of the Board members, and was forced to refer to them in
writing as "Droopy Jowels" and "Mr. Ears" again.
When the meeting was over they left the offices together, but
without conversation. They took a cab back to the firm, also in
silence. They went up the elevator in silence. They walked back
to Kirch's office in silence. It was only when they were in Kirch's
office and the door was closed that he let lose.
"WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" he yelled.
"WHAT KIND OF LAWYER ARE YOU? DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF IMPRESSION
YOU CREATED?"
"You told me the meeting was on Friday," said Jane, refusing
to be intimidated. This time she decided that she would stand up
and fight.
"DIDN'T YOU SEE THE READINGS? DIDN'T YOU SEE THE NOTICE?"
Kirch seethed. "SOMEONE SHOULD BE FIRED FOR THIS!" There was no
doubt in his mind who that should be.
Jane kept to her guns, "Yes, I saw the notice when I started
reviewing the readings this morning," said Jane. "Now, how come
you didn't tell me about the change in meeting times?"
"HOW COME YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?" said Kirch. He lowered his
voice a few decibels. "Your job, little girl, is to back me up,
not the other way around."
Jane braced herself. This was one of those times that she
needed to be tough, to be a redweld warrior. If she was not tough
she would be stepped on, and if she let herself be stepped on once
she would be stepped on again and again.
"If you knew the meeting was moved, you might have mentioned
it to me, just once, just to touch base. But you either didn't
care, or you didn't want to!" Jane flared. "Just like the time
that you had me slaving over New Year's doing due diligence that
you knew was unnecessary!"
It was all out in the open now.
"Don't you make charges at me!" said Kirch. "Don't try to
cover up your incompetence by blaming me! Now get back to your
office and start doing those minutes!"
"I can't!" said Jane. "I need you to first explain to me what
happened in the morning!"
"You arrogant bitch!" said Kirch. "I will do no such thing.
I'm not going to help you cover up for your mistakes! Now get to
work, skirt!" he said, pointing to the door.
"No, you write your fucking minutes!" said Jane. She raised
the piles of memos in her arms and tossed them around the room.
They scattered wildly in the air, landing all over Kirch's office.
For a moment, they both stood still, stunned by chain of
events. Then Jane stalked out of the offices, indeed, stalked out
of the firm.
She did not return until the following day. She spent a
restless night tossing and turning, fully expecting to be fired
when she walked in the offices the next morning. Her parents
begged her to make a full apology, and persistent nagging weakened
Jane's resolve for a short time. But then her determination
hardened. No. Let them fire her. That would be the best thing
that could happen to her.
Jane trudged towards the Tolcott Teitelbaum building, her feet
feeling as if they were made of lead. As she approached the
building she saw none other than Heidi Blakelock coming out of the
porno book store next door. Heidi, buying pornography? Did they
even have women's pornography in there?
But Jane didn't focus on such thoughts for very long. She was
still worried what the fallout would be after her blowout with
Kirch. She entered the firm's offices, prepared for anything.
But the funny thing was, nobody said anything to her the next
day. The partners never said anything, and even Kirch just
glowered at her when she passed him in the hallway. He never
raised the subject of the minutes again. He really must have done
them himself.
But she never worked for Kirch again. And other associates
started to avoid contact with Jane, as if she was some leper that
could be struck by lightning at any time.
Ironically it was Julia Kern who was one of the few to talk to
her. Closing the door she turned to Jane and said, "Jane, you're
playing a dangerous game."
"How so?" said Jane, tugging on her middle drawer. She still
couldn't get that thing to open. She probably never would.
"You're getting the partners angry at you. I heard them
talking. Do you want to get fired?"
"They could have fired me, but they haven't," said Jane,
shrugging as if she didn't care.
Julia sat down on the edge of Jane's desk. "Do you want to
know why they didn't fire you?"
Jane, considering, slowly nodded. Did she secretly have a
friend in the partner ranks? Someone who was defending her? She
wanted to know.
Julia looked around. "This is in the strictest of confidence.
You're not to repeat it, and I'm certainly not going to tell you
how I heard it."
Jane nodded.
Julia wet her lips. "Some of the partners want to fire you
outright. But others think you can still be useful," said Julia.
"Useful?"
"You're from a top school, Jane, and you're the first one
they've had in a long time. That's an important symbol."
"So I'm their Ivy League trophy," said Jane distastefully.
"If you like," said Julia. "But Jane, that won't protect you
forever. If you keep pushing them, they will fire you."
"So what do you suggest?" Jane asked.
Julia gave a silky smile. "Play along a bit."
Jane looked up at Julia. "Like you play along?"
Julia didn't take offense. "It's not such a big deal...
you've got to be friendly to get ahead. At first, I didn't really
care for it, but now, I've even come to like it... it's just like
being friends."
"I don't have sex with my friends," said Jane coldly. "And I
don't even see that I have any friends here."
"But you can, if you change your attitude," said Julia.
"I'm sorry," said Jane. "But if you're trying to get me to
become a willing concubine, it's not going to work. I'm not about
to open negotiations to perform sexual favors for the partners."
Suddenly a suspicion dawned in her mind. "How did you find out
what the partners were saying?"
Julia blushed, "I told you I wasn't going to discuss that."
"I remember that and I thought it was a curious statement. At
first I thought that was because Bart might have told you at an
intimate moment. But now I think there's a more important reason,"
said Jane.
"What do you mean?" said Julia, not flinching at the reference
to her "intimate moment" with Bart.
"The partners talked to you, didn't they?" said Jane. "They
told you to say these things." It was all becoming clear now.
"They wanted you to persuade me to give in, to be a willing
prostitute. They thought a sympathetic voice might help. Am I
hitting close to the mark?"
Julia's blush was deeper, "I... I..."
"Don't need to say anymore," said Jane. "Take this message
back to the partners. The only kind of work that I'm going to do
for them will be in a vertical, repeat vertical upright position."
She stalked out of the office.
Where would she go now? Who could she talk to? By default
she went to Bertow, who was at least somewhat sympathetic.
"I don't know if she was quite expecting you to become a
prostitute," said Bertow, after he had heard the story.
"It seemed perfectly clear to me."
"Just because you're asked to adopt a more accommodating
manner doesn't mean you have to become a prostitute," said Bertow.
"So I should allow myself to be handcuffed nude down to Bart's
desk so he can whip me?" said Jane.
"What? Wherever did you get such an idea?" said Bertow.
"Never mind," said Jane. "Just what are you saying?"
"Well, I'm not saying you should sleep with Bart or any of the
others," said Bertow. "But... have you ever given it any thought?"
"What?" This is the last thing she would have expected from
Bertow.
"I mean, you're not married, you're single... what's the harm,
playing around a bit? It wouldn't hurt... and it might do you some
good, emotionally," he said.
"I cannot believe it," said Jane. "I cannot believe that
you're saying these things!"
"Of course I'm joking," said Bertow. But Jane was none too
sure of that now. "I was just doing that to test you."
"To test me?"
"To show you what a combative attitude you've taken. As I've
told you, Jane, in every dispute it takes two parties to be at
fault. I think a lot of it is the partners' fault, don't take me
wrong, but I think you aggravate things by taking a hostile
attitude."
"Thanks," said Jane. "Thanks for your advice. Many thanks.
Thank you." she moved to the door. "Thanks again."
Jane buckled down. She became hostile to everyone, responding
negatively to every slight, however small. She even stopped
talking to Julia Kern. It was one thing for Kern to decide to
sleep with the boss; it was another for Kern to try to pimp for
him.
It was a lonely, aggravating time, but at the same time Jane
knew her morale wasn't quite at rock bottom. She was hanging
tough, and she was fighting back. She only wore dark colors to
work, preferably black, to best fit her mood, and she walked around
with her hands balled up into fists, her face wearing a constant
frown.
Her next assignment matched her drop in status. She heard
about it when Mr. Teitelbaum called her to his office.
"Jane," he said, giving a jolly ho-ho-ho. But it sounded
forced. "You've indicated an interest in doing pro bono, correct?"
Pro bono? What had she done to deserve such a boon? Jane
nodded, now smiling eagerly.
"We need you to help an elderly client with a... financial
matter," said Mr. Teitelbaum. He wore a similar smile, one which
Jane would soon not be wearing.
Ten minutes later Jane, looking very cross, was in Ernie
Wafford's office, helping him balance his checkbook. How demeaning
could it get!
Ernie's office had papers piled everywhere and smelled
strongly of animal manure. Jane remembered Moss's claim that Ernie
never showered. But Ernie would have had to dump a ton of animal
fertilizer in his office in order to impregnate his office with
such a pungent odor.
"Here's my checkbook," said Ernie, smacking his lips. "Here's
my checkbook."
"I see," said Jane, looking at the cryptically small
lettering. She would never be able to decipher any of this. She
sighed, looking at the first line. Well, she had to begin
somewhere. The sooner she completed this, the sooner she could
return to fresh air.
"Let's go over each entry," said Jane. "Look here, at this
line, what does it say?"
"What?" said Ernie.
"LOOK AT THIS LINE. WHAT DOES IT SAY?"
"Need my reading glasses," said Ernie, taking off his glasses
and searching. After a few minutes of fruitless looking he put the
same pair back on. "These are my reading glasses. Now what was
the question?"
"WHAT DOES THIS LINE SAY?"
Ernie looked closely. Slurp chew chew. Slurp chew chew. The
whine of his hearing aid hurt Jane's ear. Standing this close to
him, she almost passed out from the odor. She took two steps away,
holding the checkbook at him from arm's length.
Ernie studied the line, spending at least a minute on each
word.
"What does it say?" said Jane finally.
"What?" said Ernie rapidly looking up.
"WHAT DOES IT SAY?"
"Well, you distracted me, I'm not sure," said Ernie. Slurp
chew chew.
Several hours later, Jane was back in her office. She had a
headache from the whine caused by Ernie's hearing aid, but what was
worse was that she had a stomachache caused by breathing in all his
fumes. At once point she raced to the bathroom, convinced she was
going to throw up. But after a moment of dry retching she felt a
little better.
After going back and forth with Ernie for some time Jane had
settled on the quickest solution: she made Ernie's checkbook
conform to his bank statement, not the other way around. That
solved that problem.
But Jane continued to take abuse in other ways. One time she
had to go to the file room to retrieve some documents. She braced
herself for another encounter with Ivan the terrible. But as she
entered the anteroom only Alberto, his assistant, was there.
"Halt!" he said. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To look at the files," said Jane.
"No access without an appointment," said Alberto.
"We've been through this before," said Jane.
"No exceptions, unless you apply to Ivan."
"Fine, wheel him out here," said Jane.
"Ivan is gone for the day. He left me in charge," said
Alberto, raising his chin.
"So I need to apply to you for an exception?" said Jane.
"Precisely," he said, giving a wicked grin. He blocked her
passage inward with his arms
Jane turned as if to plow right into him, but stopped. "You
know, I wonder."
"What?"
"How you got to be like this? Did Ivan hire you because you
were obedient to him and abusive to others? Or did you simply grow
into the role?"
"Hey-"
"I tend to think it's the dog kicking dog syndrome. You're a
young kid, not much younger than me. You were probably normal
before you came here."
"Stop with the-"
"But then you got in tune with the culture here. Partner
kicks senior associate, senior associate kicks file room
maintainer, file room maintainer kicks junior assistant... so why
shouldn't file room assistant kick junior associate? Makes sense,
doesn't it?"
"Hey, I don't have to take that-"
"Sure you do," said Jane. She could see it was time for
another appearance of the redweld warrior. Alberto wanted it,
needed it, and would only respond to abusive stimuli. "Since you
like the system so much, I'll give you another taste of it. I was
sent to the fileroom by Mr. Teitelbaum. If you don't get your
smelly arm out of my way in the next two seconds, I will simply
report you to him. You will be thrown out onto the street within
the next five minutes, and I will gather up as many associates and
staff as I can to come outside and laugh at you and then we will
all go out for a cappuchino break to yak it up. Now, what will it
be?"
Alberto sullenly moved his arm out of the way.
"Thanks," said Jane admiringly. "You know, you're a smart
guy, for a stupid fileroom idiot."
Jane held her own, and she refused to be abused by anybody.
Once she got over the hump of the fear of being fired, there was
little to restrain her. She continued to take some abuse, but
often gave as good as she got.
One time she needed copies made in the copy room, and only
Vito, the nasty one, was working there at the moment.
"What do you want?" he snapped.
"40 copies, and be quick about it," Jane snapped back.
Vito looked insolently at her, and slowly moved to the copy
machine. But then he stopped. "I don't think I like your tone."
"I know I don't like yours," said Jane evenly. "Are you going
to make my copies, or are you going to freeze there for a portrait
snapshot? I don't have all day."
Vito insolently let her originals slip from his fingers and
fall to the floor. He put his hands on his hips to see what Jane
would do next.
At that moment one of the partners walked by. It was Mr.
Hanton, from the litigation department.
Jane considered summoning up her powers for confrontation as
any good redweld warrior would, when she saw another, more subtle
way that she could achieve her goal.
"Mr. Hanton," said Jane, grabbing him by the arm as he tried
to pass bye. "I am attempting to have copies made in a hurry for
a client. Vito not only refuses to act but threw my originals on
the floor. What should I tell the client?"
Hanton, who was originally put aback at Jane touching her,
turned to Vito, his face hardening. Before he could say a word
Vito had scooped up the copies and was placing them in the machine.
"A joke, heh heh, just a joke," he said quickly.
After Hanton left Vito slammed the copies down on the counter.
"A joke, yes," said Jane. "But the joke is on you."
Vito glared at her, slamming his fist down on the counter.
"Listen, lady, don't think that next time-"
"Next time I won't be so easy on you!" Jane glared back at
him. He evidently needed a reminder that Jane, too, was a redweld
warrior, not one to be trifled with.
And, for the first time in her memory, Vito shrank back. Jane
had bested him. She had actually won a battle.
The summer wore on. Word got around the office that Jane
wasn't to be wantonly abused. The partners could still get away
with it, to a certain degree, but not the associates or the staff.
They still didn't like Jane, but at least they were no longer using
her as a welcome mat. After Moss once again suggested that she
shelve books she exploded at him, and since then it was he who
avoided her when she came to the library. Jane had reached the
incredible point of no longer being afraid to come to the library.
Jane continued working with David Kapnick on the closing
binder. She didn't mind working so much with Kapnick; he was a
boor, a slob, and largely incompetent, but he was not nearly so
abusive like many of the other associates.
But Kapnick could still be irritating at times. Once when he
was examining the closing binder for what was probably the 50th
time, he chuckled.
"What?" said Jane.
"You put the good standing certificate before the officer's
certificate," he said, starting to break out in laughter. Kapnick
went out into the hallway, looked around. "Guys! Come here, come
here!"
Manuel Francois and Tim Talman entered her office. "What?"
said Talman.
"Look at this. I had Janie here do a simple closing binder.
She's been working on it for weeks. Finally, when she shows it to
me, she has the good standing certificate placed sequentially
before the officer's certificate!"
They all laughed. Jane just stared at them, arms folded
together, looking furious. But she wouldn't give them the
satisfaction of backing down, of being humiliated like a good
victim. Obviously Kapnick did not consider her to be a fellow
redweld warrior, and held her beneath contempt, a prime target for
public ridicule. Well, it was time to correct that false
impression.
"Was this a really big mistake, David?" said Jane innocently.
Kapnick grinned. "A typical first year job, Jane."
"Really?" she said, holding up a marked up closing list.
"What is it?" said Kapnick.
"The last version of the closing list. I used to have the
officer's certificate before the good standing certificate, but you
marked it up, telling me to switch them," said Jane.
"What? Let me see?" Kapnick scanned the page. "Well, there
must be some mistake."
"Right, and you made it," said Jane, laughing now. Now
Francois and Talman were laughing too, but at Kapnick, not Jane.
"Hey! That's not so funny," said Kapnick, getting angry.
Jane kept chuckling. "You bet it is."
Kapnick, looking flustered, said, "You're the junior
associate! It's not your job to show up your superiors."
"You're right," said Jane. "Show me someone superior, and I
won't show him up."
The laughter, if anything, grew more intense, with Kapnick
reddening by the minute. Jane had finally scored one on him.
Kapnick kept her going through continuous revisions of the
closing list. A task that should have taken a day was stretched
into nearly four months. Every time he met with her he kept
revising the closing list, sometimes switching items back and forth
between two different sequential orders several times before
arriving at the "right" solution.
Even with her inexperience Jane realized that this closing
list couldn't be nearly as important as Kapnick portrayed it, but
she held her tongue. Often Kapnick came in to "review" the closing
list at the end of the day, so he could stay long enough to order
dinner to charge to the client.
But finally the list was done and the closing binder was ready
to be sent to the printer for copying. Well, almost ready.
"We have to decide what color the closing binder will be,"
said Kapnick. He had a small color list in front of him, and he
looked very serious. "The firm that did this deal likes blue."
"Blue it is," said Jane, preparing to leave.
"Wait!" said Kapnick. "There are ten different shades of
blue. We must choose the right one."
So Jane sat in his office for several minutes while he thought
about it. "If it's so difficult maybe we should ask the client."
"No," said Kapnick, "We're not going to do that. Hey Manuel-"
He called in Francois, and started soliciting his opinion.
Then he called in Amanda Warwick and Heidi Blakelock, and they all
looked at the colors. They spent nearly an hour discussing the
issue, and Jane estimated that they had just collectively billed
the client nearly $900 deciding the issue. But wait, they weren't
done yet.
"I don't like "A Closing Binder,"" said Kapnick. "I think it
should be 'The Closing Binder'".
"But they do more than one deal," said Blakelock.
"But this is only referring to one of their deals," said
Warwick.
They went back and forth on this, wavering between A and The.
It was times like those that Jane, sitting there silently and
purposely not participating in such a moronic discussion, wondered
why she was there. These midlevel and senior associates evidently
had nothing else better to do with their time. But Jane felt she
was actively wasting hers by sitting there listening to such
mindless debate over the choice of A or The. Finally after almost
another hour had passed they decided on The, and Jane went to duly
call the printer. Just as she was about to dial, however, Kapnick
poked his head into the office and said, "Wait! We're still
undecided."
Eventually they did decide (on The), and the binder got
printed. But nearly four months had passed since Jane had started
the project. She estimated that it was the highest billable
closing binder in Tolcott Teitelbaum history.
The summer waned, and fall was just around the corner. Jane
sat at her desk, counting the weeks. She was in week 49 now. Just
55 more weeks to go until the two year mark. And then Jane got an
envelope labeled CONFIDENTIAL.
At first she thought she had been fired, and she quickly
opened up the envelope with a certain energetic glee, but then Jane
shook her head and tisk-tisked in disappointment.
It was merely an invitation to the annual firm outing. It was
to be held the following Friday at the Larchmont Country Club in
Scarsdale, New York. The firm was serious about it because all
attorneys were given the day off to attend. Jane laughed and
crumpled the invitation in a small ball, tossing it to a corner of
her desk.
Good. It would be nice to get a day off. She had no
intention of going to this firm outing. This would be a day for
her own outing, to get away from the firm.
Unfortunately, Jane made the mistake of mentioning the outing
to her parents that night on the phone.
"Oh Jane, you must go," said Mr. Sommers. "It's important for
you to mix with your fellow attorneys in a social setting."
"Dad, I hate the guts of my fellow attorneys," said Jane.
"Jane, this will be a chance for you to mix with the senior
partners," said her mother. "Don't you want someone to be-"
"My men-tor?" Jane beat her to it.
"Don't snap at me, young lady. It distresses me to hear that
you're not trying very hard to mix at your firm. I think that's
part of your problem." Jane's parents were continually reassessing
her "problem". If something was going wrong at work than Jane was
naturally at fault. Perhaps for not mixing enough, or not actively
seeking out a men-tor.
"You want me to try to mix? What should I do, Mother, sleep
with Mr. Tolcott?"
"Now Jane, not everyone sleeps with Mr. Tolcott," said Mr.
Sommers.
"True, only the women do," said Jane. Suddenly, she
considered the limitations of her assertion. "I think."
"Now Jane, you're just being difficult. Why don't you go to
your outing? It will be in a nice country club. Besides, you've
got nothing to lose."
"Sure I've got something to lose. A free day."
"Jane I want you to go, and to try to be nice," said her
mother firmly.
They kept pounding at her, and finally Jane found herself
promising to go. Well, at least she would be able to talk to...
who would she be able to talk to?
The day before the outing Jane was discussing the affair with
Julia. "You know, it's strange that all the paralegals and
secretaries are also invited, but not spouses."
"Not so strange," said Julia. "This firm believes in having
strong ties to the staff. As for spouses, well, this is a firm-
only function." She said the words "firm-only" to make it sound
very exclusive.
Suddenly Kenneth stuck his head into Jane's office. "Hi you
two," he said. For some reason he looked cheerful.
"What's up?" said Julia.
"I'm just going around to you ladies to give you more info
about the dress code for the outing," said Kenneth. "You shouldn't
think the dress code for the outing is as strict as that brochure
from the country club we passed around."
"Oh?" said Jane.
"Yes, you should feel free to wear short shorts, tight bathing
suits, thongs, bikinis... the firm wants you all to feel
comfortable." Kenneth seemed sincere. Jane was sure he was.
"Really?" said Jane. "How considerate of the partners." She
wondered if Kenneth was offering similar advice to the male
associates... and strongly doubted it. Well, Jane might be going
to the outing, but she wasn't going to strip down like a piece of
meat for a bunch of salivating old men. "Very nice," Jane added
insincerely.
Kenneth nodded curtly, then smiled. "I look forward to seeing
you both tomorrow," he said, on his way out.
"I'm sure you do," Jane murmured.
It was a bright, sunny Friday afternoon when Jane showed up at
the Larchmont Country Club. Being able to sleep late on a weekday
was a pleasant experience, especially when coupled with the fact
that Jane did not have to show up for work at the firm. Jane's
worst time in the morning was her walk to work, especially when she
got in sight of that building. Her footsteps would slow, and she
would have to actively force herself to enter the lobby and head
for the elevators. Once Jane was at work it wasn't so bad, once
she had again acclimated herself to the firm's environment. But
once she breathed the free air outside of work it was difficult to
force herself to go back in again.
Of course, Jane was only escaping from the physicality of the
office, and only for one day. She would still have to see all the
unpleasant people she worked with, and pretend to make nice with
them. On the other hand it seemed unlikely that they would be
acting abusively in a relatively non-legal setting. Or so Jane
imagined.
Jane took the Metro North railroad up to Scarsdale. She
enjoyed spending her morning in a train which did not contain
members of her firm. In fact, she enjoyed being anywhere that
morning as long as other members of her firm were not present.
Before Jane had entered the train she had been careful to make sure
that no other members of Tolcott Teitelbaum were present. The last
thing she wanted to do was to see one of them on the train and be
forced to sit next to one of them. Jane had promised to mix and
mingle at the outing, but had made no such promise concerning the
commute to and from the event. Once Jane arrived at Scarsdale, the
leafy exclusive suburbs for the wealthy, she hailed a cab and went
to the country club. Jane retained her train ticket stub; the firm
had graciously offered to pick up half of the train fare for
associates. Partners got their entire trip reimbursed by the firm,
of course.
Jane walked into the sprawling country club. A small sign
which read "Tolcott Teitel-" pointed to the back. There,
overlooking a large, green golf course, was a luxurious swimming
pool set next to a flat lawn area where a volleyball net had been
set up.
Most everyone was there already, and Jane could immediately
see that she did not fit in, in one very prominent way: she was
vastly overdressed.
To be more precise, she wasn't overdressed by male attorney
standards; she, like them, was clad in sensible shorts and a modest
short sleeves shirt.
But the women paralegals and support staff were all dressed in
tight bathing suits and bikini's. Bart's secretary, Dana, who was
generously endowed, wore a two piece outfit that was seemingly a
size too small in the upper front and lower back areas, prompting
more than a few glances from the male attorneys. Heidi Blakelock
was in a one piece that seemed to cover only about 25% of her
buttocks. She seemed to be in an unofficial competition with Julia
Kern and Dana for wearing the tightest bathing suit. Only Amanda
Warwick was wearing a shirt and short shorts, although it obvious
she wasn't wearing much else underneath.
Jane knew this to be the case because Warwick was clad in a
tight, wet T-shirt that prominently displayed the fact that she
wasn't wearing a bathing suit top underneath. Her shorts were so
taut that one could see the strains in the material as it grabbed
at every inch of her thigh as she sat down.
All the male attorneys were flirting with the women, though it
was clear that Heidi, Amanda, and Julia were all competing for
Bart's attention. They were all sitting by him as he lay on a
lounger, in long, baggy shorts and a rumpled short sleeves shirt,
seemingly bored with his lovelies. Amanda periodically pretended
to yawn, giving her an excuse to thrust out her already prominent
chest in his direction. Heidi sat in a chair by Bart, nonchalantly
spreading her legs as widely as possible. And Julia had to hold
her top piece up to keep it from falling, because she had removed
the straps on either side to prevent tanning lines.
Now Jane understood why spouses had not been invited to the
firm outing.
"Hey kid, how're you doing?" said Kapnick, wearing dark
glasses as he munched on a steak sandwich. His stomach, not
constrained by a restrictive suit, looked even larger than usual,
and Kapnick waddled a little as he walked. "You're looking mighty
overdressed. What's wrong, don't want to show off your figure?
I'll bet you got a nice bod."
Jane said nothing, walking past him.
"Hey Jane, come and join us!" said Julia, waving to her with
one hand (the other being needed to hold up her top piece).
Jane slowly walked over, but with a palpable reluctance.
Suddenly, seeing the three women swooning over Bart, the words
"Charlie's Angels" came to mind.
"Jane! Good to see you!" said Julia. "Aren't you hot?"
"No, but I can see you are," was the first thing that came to
Jane's mind. But instead she said, "I'll manage. Hello Bart."
"Jane," said Bart monotonally. He was probably even more
bored by Jane, simply because she was wearing clothes.
Jane didn't exchange greetings with Heidi or Amanda. Instead
Jane just walked off, looking for a place to sit. It was going to
be a long, long afternoon.
Suddenly Kenneth was on the scene, announcing, "All right, all
right, time for volleyball! All women get a quick dunk in the pool
and go to the volleyball court!"
All women get a quick dunk in the pool and go to the
volleyball court? Why only women? Why did they have to go into
the poll first? What was this all about?
And then all the women did obediently jump into the pool like
a group of seals at the zoo, and quickly jumped out and raced for
the volleyball court... all except for Jane, of course. She
noticed that the men stood on the sidelines, and Jane quickly
figured out what was going on.
With their bathing suits totally wet, the women's beach attire
were practically sheer and see-through. And every time the ball was
hit into the air and several of the secretaries would jump to
intercept it, the attorneys would take great notice of prominent
parts of the players' anatomies that were starting to flagellate.
The men whistled and clapped with every volley, but their eyes were
hardly on the ball.
Jane was disgusted, of course, but she was still analyzing the
situation carefully, and she noticed that only a fraction of the
support staff was present. The older secretaries were not present.
And of course the male staff members, like the guys from the copy
room, were not present. Only the young, women secretaries and
paralegals.
Jane sat at the poolside, nibbling on a piece of pineapple.
She wished for this affair to be over quickly. She couldn't even
think properly, because every few moments the male attorneys would
cheer, probably because some large breasted secretary had just
jumped for the ball.
Jane just sat, and endured it all.
When the game was over, she was joined by Kapnick, Bertow, and
Talman.
"Jane-girl, I didn't see you playing," said Kapnick.
"Didn't feel like it," Jane mumbled.
"You're just being a spoilsport," said Kapnick.
"Why didn't you play?" Jane asked. She indiscreetly eyed his
burgeoning belly as she made her comment. If anything, his
waistline had only seemed to grow several inches during the course
of the afternoon.
"Me, play volleyball? I'm wearing loafers," said Kapnick.
"What about you?" Jane asked Talman. He was wearing sneakers.
Actually, something about his sneakers looked strange; they had odd
looking white heels that seemed to blend into the base of the
sneakers... suddenly, Jane understood: these were elevator
sneakers! Jane didn't know that such things existed.
Talman, catching her glance and then seeing her smirking,
quickly got up. "Excuse me," he said, running away quickly, making
burping sounds in the distance.
The men sat around all afternoon, drinking and whistling and
commenting on the women. Jane sat in stone silence, alone, on the
fringe of a conversation between Bertow and some of the other
associates.
Suddenly, Jane heard Mr. LaGossi, clad in a large Hawaiian
shirt, whistle and yell, "Hey baby, come here."
Was he talking to her? Jane looked about. But then Amanda
Warwick walked in her direction, wiggling a bit with every step.
LaGossi gestured for her to sit down on his lap. She did,
sitting gingerly. Perhaps she liked Bart's touch better than
LaGossi's.
"Word is you're up for partnership consideration soon," said
LaGossi, stroking her hair.
Warwick smiled at him.
"You better be good!" he said, caressing her shoulders. Then,
all of a sudden, he squeezed one of her breasts, and yelled, "Honk,
honk!"
Everyone burst out laughing.
Jane went to the restroom, barely able to contain her anger.
She debated leaving right there and then. This outing was
obviously not doing any good for her, not unless she donned a wet
bathing suit and allowed men to squeeze her breasts and go "honk-
honk".
But she could see her parents, saying, "Jane, it is very
important for you to mix with the other attorneys. You left early?
We're very disappointed in you, Jane. You won't find a men-tor
this way."
And so Jane stuck it out. As the afternoon dimmed and faded
people started to go inside to change for dinner. Dinner required
formal dress, and Jane had brought one of her business suits along.
But she had an inkling in the dressing room that again she
would not conform with the styles of the other women. The other
women of Tolcott Teitelbaum were putting on low cut dresses or
short miniskirts (or both), frantically applying tons of makeup,
and smothering perfume on their chests, anxiously checking
themselves and each other in the mirror to make sure they looked
"perfect". Jane felt like she had stepped into a brothel.
"We're looking mighty plain," was the first thing that David
Kapnick said to her when she came out. "What's the matter, afraid
to show a little cleavage?"
Evidently others weren't. Amanda Warfield was wearing a
slinky silvery dress that only covered half the distance from her
waist up to her neck, barely concealing the lower half of her
prominent regions. Not to be outdone, Heidi Blakelock was wearing
a dress that went up to her neck, but had openings on the side
where one could see large areas of skin. And Julia Kern was
wearing a seemingly backless dress down to her waist. They
clustered around Bart, cooing for his attention. And for the most
part Bart, in a black tuxedo, looked bored.
"Ho ho ho!" At another table sat Mr. Teitelbaum, who was
surrounded by a number of similarly dressed secretaries. He didn't
look bored, he looked hungry, and not just for food. Jane watched
as one of the secretaries fed him a piece of roast beef.
"Very good, my darling," said Teitelbaum, giving her a wink.
"Keep up the good work."
Jane sat quietly in a small table in the corner and ate her
dinner, though she wasn't feeling very hungry. The dinner was
served by scantily dressed waitresses (a detail no doubt arranged
by Mr. Kenneth) and the food was reasonably good, but Jane could
not ignore the flow of comments back and forth. "She's got a nice
body." "Look how she moves!" "I'd really like fifteen minutes
with her." "What's with that prude, Jane Sommers? What's her
problem, hasn't she gotten any?" "I'd like to help her out."
At that point Jane simply got up and left. Enough was enough.
She had to work with these people in the offices, but she
definitely didn't have to tolerate this here.
50 weeks down. 54 weeks to go.
Chapter 6: The Fall
Beginning of week 53.
Jane reflected on her first year at the firm. At first it had
been confusing, then unpleasant. But now it was tortuous. It was
getting harder and harder for Jane to force herself to get up in
the morning. She always knew what awaited her. Time at work
seemed to move at a snail's pace. She was always relieved for the
weekends, and they never seem to come soon enough.
One day when Jane was walking towards the firm she saw none
other than Ivanova coming out of the porno book store next door.
Ivanova, carrying the tell-tale paper bag! What could she possibly
want in there?
Jane couldn't resist approaching her. "Did they have porno
book stores in Russia?"
Ivanova just glared at her. "You get too near me, you get a
good taste of this," she said, waving a gnarled fist. Jane wasn't
sure if she was joking or not.
After a moment's pause Jane started to turn to follow Ivanova
into the building at a safe distance. But then she stopped,
attracted by the flashing lights at the porno book store next door.
She always saw members of the firm emerging from there... what was
really going on in there?
On a hunch, Jane entered the porno shop. She had never
entered a porno bookstore before, and didn't know what to expect.
Actually the place sold more than books; there were racks filled
with videos, other racks filled with magazines, and even a display
case filled with implements. But it was not the furnishings of the
porno bookstore that held Jane's attention. It was the customers.
David Kapnick. Tim Talman. John Moss. David Ailing. Harry
Kentrust. Mr. LaGossi. Mr. Teitelbaum. And about a half dozen
other members of the firm.
Mr. Teitelbaum was standing the closest to her, though facing
away, addressing a man behind the counter. Mr. Teitelbaum held up
a large, artificial phallus. "Do you do giftwrapping?"
"Jane!"
It was David Kapnick, who suddenly noticed her standing at the
entrance. Suddenly all eyes were on her. Mr. Teitelbaum turned to
look at her, open-mouthed. The long, wooden device he held dropped
from his hands, clattering to the floor at Jane's feet. Jane
looked down at the artificial penis which was touching her shoe,
and then up at Mr. Teitelbaum.
And then she left, heading for the Tolcott Teitelbaum
building. What more was there to say?
These days Jane was working for Amanda Warwick. There seemed
to be two Amanda Warwicks; there was the Amanda Warwick in the wet
T-shirt who didn't mind when a partner went "honk honk" while
squeezing part of her anatomy, and there was the Amanda Warwick who
went ballistic when Jane handed her a photocopy that wasn't perfect
when examined under a microscope. Unfortunately, Jane had to cope
with the latter sort of Warwick.
One day Jane happened to be walking down the hallway with
Bart. They passed by Warwick's office, and suddenly they heard,
"Baaaawt!"
Tolcott turned to face her.
"I need somebody to help me with this Fieldhouse deal," said
Warwick.
"Take Jane," said Tolcott dully. He looked more bored than
usual. Or maybe he was sleepy. It was impossible for Jane to
tell. Bart continued walking down the hallway.
"What? Wait! Baaawwwt!" Warwick cried. But he was gone.
"All right, you better come into my office," said Warwick, giving
Jane a dirty look.
Warwick sighed as Jane entered the office, looking about as
happy as if she were welcoming the plague. "All right, the first
thing you gotta do is research the following...."
Jane entered the library. She looked for and found the
Norman's citators. She wasn't familiar with them, and spent
several minutes looking through the bound volume, without much
success. Finally, reluctantly, she knocked on John Moss's door.
The door opened and a cloud of smoke emerged from his office.
"What?" he snapped. "Somehow I don't think you're here to shelve
books."
Jane explained her problem with the citators.
"And I suppose you want me to explain it to you?" Moss
grimaced. "What do I look like?"
"The librarian?" said Jane, hazarding a guess.
Moss sullenly got to his feet. Jane followed him to the
shelf. After a moment's inspection Moss pulled out another
Norman's volume and handed it to her. "Here, this is the one with
the interstate cites," said Moss. "You couldn't find this
yourself?"
"I'm not familiar with Norman's," said Jane. "And there is no
table of contents for these volumes."
"You need a table of contents? You, a fancy graduate of
Columbia? How incompetent can you be? Did you really graduate law
school?" he sneered.
"Did you really graduate library school?" said Jane, giving
the smallest of smiles.
Snorting, Moss returned to his office.
"Thanks for the help," said Jane, just as his door slammed
closed.
Jane completed her research and reported back to Warwick, who
made no comment. The lack of negative response told Jane that she
had probably done her work correctly. Warwick's next assignment to
Jane was much more immediate, to make sure a certain document got
out to a client in the next few minutes. A messenger was being
sent over from the client now to pick up the document, and Mr.
Kentrust was currently reviewing the document.
"Get the document from Kentrust and make sure the messenger
gets it when he arrives," said Warwick. She gave Jane a glare for
good measure, not because Jane had done anything wrong but rather
because that was what Warwick was used to doing.
So Jane was assigned to pick up a document from one party and
give it to another. In another words, Jane was being relegated to
secretarial work. Again. But she was used to it, and did not
complain.
Jane went to Mr. Kentrust's office. The door was closed.
Jane looked at her watch. The messenger should be here at any
minute.
She knocked on the door, and she waited.
And waited. And waited again.
There was no answer.
Mr. Kentrust's secretary, a nice young man named Pat walked
by. "You won't be able to get in touch with Harry," he said.
"Why not?" Jane asked.
"He's in private mode," said Pat. "Probably studying
something intensely."
"I need to get a document from him in the next few minutes."
"Sorry," said Pat, walking away.
Jane returned to her office. If she couldn't reach Mr.
Kentrust at his office, maybe he would pick up his phone. She
dialed his number, but Pat's voice answered, "Mr. Kentrust's
office."
"Pat, this is Jane. I really need to speak to Mr. Kentrust."
"I understand that, Jane. But he's incommunicado. Nothing
short of an earthquake is going to get him out of there."
Hm. Jane hung up. Almost immediately she got a call. It was
reception. The messenger was here, and ready for the document.
The document which Jane couldn't get.
What should she do? She quickly paced back and forth. The
answer was clear. There was nothing she could do. Nothing, but go
back to Warwick and endure a screaming for her failure. Never mind
that it wasn't Jane's fault; she was only too used to being blamed
for things that were out of her control.
Sighing, Jane walked listlessly into Warwick's office. Amanda
was looking at some documents, but, seeing Jane, she looked up, and
said, "What?"
"The messenger is here," Jane gulped.
"So?" said Warwick.
"I can't get the message from Mr. Kentrust! His door is
closed, and he won't answer the phone!"
Warwick gave her a look that could kill. She picked up the
phone, punched in a number, and yelled, "Baawwwt!"
Ten minutes later Jane, Warwick, Bart and their local janitor
marched down the hallway to Mr. Kentrust's office. Kentrust had
locked the door and no amount of pounding would get him to answer.
What was wrong? Was he hurt? Did he have a seizure? Jane
wondered if they should call an ambulance. Bart, however, looked
calm, which either meant that he didn't think anything was
seriously wrong, or that if something were seriously wrong it still
wouldn't upset him.
They reached the door, and Bart pounded on it one more time.
"Harry, open up!" he said, yelling uncharacteristically.
But there was no answer.
Bart turned to the janitor, and nodded. The janitor put the
master key in, turned the knob, and pushed the door wide open.
Jane held her breath, half expecting to see Mr. Kentrust's form,
sprawling face down on the carpet... but that's not what they saw.
They could see Mr. Kentrust, from the doorway. He was sitting
in a chair, facing away from them. He was facing a mirror, but
neither he nor the mirror were directly facing them. All they
could see were his arms and the back of his head. Between his ears
he wore headphones connected to a small tapeplayer at his side.
"Why don't you do it...." said Kentrust suddenly.
Jane, Bart, Amanda, and the janitor entered the room
curiously. When they were in a position that they could see
Kentrust, Amanda gasped. Bart put his head in his hands. The
janitor mumbled, "Aye, loco!"
Mr. Kentrust was sitting in the chair, his eyes closed, facing
the mirror. He was wearing his suit jacket, his shirt, and his
tie. But below that...
Below that he wore pantyhose, and only pantyhose, right up to
his waist, revealing rather more than a rather conservative lawyer
might choose to.
"Why don't you set your monkey free!" said Kentrust, his eyes
closed. But then he suddenly did open his eyes and, startled, he
jumped minutely in his chair.
He quickly removed his headphones, strategically putting the
walkman on his lap. "What is this?" he snarled. "Why are you-"
"We need the Fieldhouse purchase agreement, Harry," said Bart.
"There's a messenger waiting."
"Oh," said Kentrust. "It's on my chair."
"Jane," said Bart, in a monotone.
Jane moved to get the agreement.
"I was just trying out these stockings, you know, for my
wife," said Kentrust.
"We know," said Bart dully.
They didn't show any reaction when they left his office.
Warwick held back her laughter until she got back to the safety of
her office. For Jane, it wasn't a laughing matter.
Everyone was so crazy here.
The next day Jane continued to perform very important tasks
for Amanda Warwick. She spent the day making sure faxes were sent
out to all the different parties to the deal. Jane rushed around
the entire day, keeping track of the paper trails.
"So, keeping busy, are we?" said Talman, paying a visit at one
point. "Doing some important law?"
Jane, too busy to respond, merely said, "At least I'm not
short."
Her comment had been unrelated to his, but that didn't matter;
he retreated suddenly, with periodic bursts of flatulence.
Then at one point in the day Jane had to federal express out
a package of signed signature pages to the client. She looked
about for the signatures, and...
They were gone! The signatures were gone! Jane felt herself
going in to a panic. She had left them right there, on the corner
of her desk! Where could they be?
Talman. Could he have taken them, as a form of revenge?
Stop. Think. Calm yourself. No time to get paranoid.
Jane looked around, searching through all her papers. She
searched her desk. She searched her shelves. She searched her
papers on the floor. She searched her garbage can (twice). She
went out and searched all the other places she had been during the
course of the day. No signature pages.
Jane returned to her office, her heart pounding. Her shirt
was soaking with perspiration. Jane knew full well that when she
told Warwick that she had lost the signature pages, Jane would
never hear the end of it. Warwick would chew her out publically,
in front of Bart, in front of everyone. She would never be able to
live it down.
But she had to tell Warwick something. Her stomach was doing
flipflops. Firmness, Jane, you have to be firm. Hesitantly, she
scooped up some ancillary papers, and went to Warwick's office.
Warwick was on the phone. "Bawwwt! I don't care about that.
I DON'T CARE! TELL THEM I NEED THE DOCUMENTS NOW! IF THEY DON'T
GET ME THE DOCUMENTS NOW TELL THEM TO FORGET IT! Goodbye!" She
slammed down the phone.
If this was how she reacted to Bart when she was angry, Jane
could only imagine how it would be with her.
"Just a moment," Warwick snapped, writing something down.
Jane looked down, nervously shifting through the papers she
had brought with her. She had this list, that certificate... and
in between those, the missing signature pages!
Suddenly in a flash it came back to her. When Talman had come
in and distracted her, she had absentmindedly shuffled the papers
together. That was why she couldn't find them.
Warwick glared up at Jane. "And what do you want?"
"Me....? Nothing," said Jane, getting up. "Nothing at all."
"Then stop wasting my time! Did you get those signature pages
out?"
"Doing that right now, I won't let go of them until it's
done," said Jane, holding them up. They didn't leave her hands, in
fact, until they were securely stuffed in a federal express
envelope and out the door. Jane personally delivered the package
to the federal express office across the street, just for good
measure.
When she returned to the office, Jane suddenly found herself
tired. Now that the adrenalin had stopped pumping she found
herself fatigued, unable to think straight. She reported the task
complete to Warwick, who said, "Good. Now get this fax sent out,
and then we can call it a day."
Jane looked at her watch. It was only 7 PM, but after the
stress she had accumulated it felt more like 11 PM. She sent the
fax out, and staggered home.
Jane woke up at 10 PM the same evening, noticing she was still
wearing her work clothes. The first thing she did was groan. She
didn't even remember falling asleep. Now she was going to be awake
half the night.
She called Denise, told her what had happened.
"Just think, D, I had my life and death was flashing in front
of my eyes. And for what? A few signature pages, a few pieces of
paper we could easily have replaced. The client wouldn't have
thought twice about signing a few more," said Jane. "And yet I
underwent maximum stress for a few pieces of paper. What does that
mean? I didn't become a lawyer thinking I would live and die for
days like this. I've become a secretary, Denise, a highly-paid,
high pressure secretary."
"I'm afraid you're right, Jane. But what can you do?"
"Hang on for another 44 weeks, Denise. Just 44 more weeks."
Jane thought the next day would be relaxing. She had
completed all the heavy lifting yesterday. Today she could sit at
her desk and daydream a little, periodically trying to tug at her
center draw. Every day she tugged at it a little harder. Someday
she would get it to open. Someday. And somehow Jane had been
convinced that the day she would get it to open would be the day
she would leave this rotten firm. Just as Arthur was liberated
from his life of dreariness when he pulled the sword from the
stone, so Jane would be freed from her life of torment once she
pulled the center drawer from the desk.
And so Jane casually came into work the following morning.
She had barely hung up her coat before Amanda Warwick came bursting
into her office. "JANE, WHAT'S GOING ON!" she yelled.
Julia Kern, who was sitting across the room and not a target
of Warwick's ire, jumped. Jane was even more affected, but she
tried not to show it, hoping Warwick couldn't hear the pounding of
her heart.
"What... what do you mean?"
"THE FAX!" Amanda yelled. "YOU DIDN'T SEND OUT THE FAX!"
Jane thought back. What was she talking about? Oh yes, the
last fax she had asked Jane to send out the night before. Hadn't
Jane given it in to be faxed....?
"I did give it in," said Jane, suddenly remembering.
Suddenly, becoming assertive, she said, "Hold on!"
Jane sifted through her in-box... there! The fax had been
returned to her, along with a certification that it had in fact
been sent out. "See, transmitted 19:07 last night," said Jane,
showing Warwick the i.d. line on the receipt.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT PIECE OF PAPER SAYS!" Warwick cried.
"THAT FAX WAS SUPPOSED TO GO OUT LAST NIGHT, AND THE CLIENT DIDN'T
GET IT, AND WAS STORMING AT ME THIS MORNING!"
"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW HE DIDN'T GET THE FAX?" Jane
yelled back. "This receipt shows that he did!"
"You should have called!" said Warwick.
"What?"
"You should have called to see that he got the fax!"
"Do you call every time you send a fax?" said Jane. She turned
to Julia. "Do you? Does anyone? Come on, Amanda-"
"Don't try to make excuses!" Warwick cried. "Just wait till
Bart hears about this!"
Jane's anger was boiling over. This was patently unfair. It
was this anger that burst forth, an anger greater than Jane had
ever felt before, that made Jane say something that she, even with
her resolve to be a tough redweld warrior, immediately regretted
saying.
"Well, are you going to report to him in the buff, and with or
without handcuffs?"
Warwick's face was suddenly a panoply of emotions, first
surprise, then shock, then anger, then rage. She took a step
forward towards Jane, her fists clenched, and Jane took a step
towards her, her own brow knotted and her hands balled up, as if to
say, come on, come on! I'm ready for you!
But then Warwick thought better of it, and she cooled down,
slightly. "You'll regret that," she hissed, spinning on her heel
and leaving the office.
Julia had her face in her hands. She couldn't bear to look at
Jane.
Jane sat down in her chair. She found, to her astonishment,
that she was trembling slightly.
And then she tried to tug at her desk drawer. It wouldn't
budge.
No one said anything to Jane, not that day, or the next. Jane
kept to her office and said nothing to anyone. Finally after two
days of having no work she broke down and went to Teitelbaum for a
new assignment. When she discovered he was out for an early lunch
she went to Bart.
She had steeled herself for this encounter, for after her
unfortunate remark to Warwick Bart knew that she knew about his...
dabblings with the other associates.
But Bart was Bart, just sitting there, staring into space.
She told him that she had no work and he nodded, but said nothing.
Nothing more happened for two more days, and she was
considering going back to Bart again, when she got a call. It was
Mr. LaGossi's secretary. Mr. LaGossi wanted to see her.
Jane took a notepad and went to LaGossi's office. She no
longer felt any special reluctance about working for Mr. LaGossi;
after working for Heidi Blakelock, Oliver Kirch, and Amanda
Warwick, Jane could find no real differentiation between any of
them.
Mr LaGossi smiled when she entered, but he didn't get down to
business immediately. "I hear you've been having some troubles
upstairs," he said.
Jane said nothing.
"They sent you to me, because I know how to handle a
rebellious bronco," said LaGossi. He grinned, looking like he
would enjoy breaking a rebel. Especially a female one.
"Let's just get down to business," said Jane curtly.
"Very good!" He smiled wickedly. "I have a little...
research assignment for you. I hear you like first amendment
work?"
Jane nodded cautiously.
"Then this will be right up your alley," said LaGossi. "We
have a client who puts out a little magazine... he's been sued, to
prevent the magazine from being published."
"On what grounds?" said Jane, her mind racing. What was it,
a copyright problem? But even as she considered the problem she
realized that something was not quite right here. LaGossi was
acting more strangely than usual.
"They want to prevent publication on the grounds that the
magazine is obscene," said LaGossi, grinning widely. "Your job is
to determine if this magazine violates obscenity laws."
"I'll need more specifics," said Jane, suddenly getting an
unpleasant feeling in her stomach.
"Of course!" said LaGossi. "Got your pen? Ready? The
magazine typically features busty women who like each other in
special ways-" he went through the lists of objectionable actions,
being very specific in detail and going slowly to give Jane time to
react to each description.
But Jane wasn't about to give LaGossi any such pleasure. She
wrote down the list clinically, as if she were taking inventory in
a warehouse. Finally when LaGossi stopped she said, "Is that all?"
"Did I mention the part about what they do with sex toys?" he
smiled. "Oh yes, I did. That will do, for now."
"What's the client matter number?" Jane asked.
"Uh...." That appeared to set LaGossi back. "I'll give it to
you later. I haven't got it set up yet."
"Well, if I go online, I'll have to bill it to something,"
said Jane, getting the sense that something was definitely wrong.
"Well... don't go online... or if you have to, just bill it to
general nonbillable. We'll fix it later," said LaGossi, suddenly
uncomfortable.
"Um hm," said Jane, preparing to leave. But before she hit
the door it was clear to her.
This wasn't an assignment for any client. This wasn't an
assignment for anyone at all. This was just a task meant to
humiliate her, to embarrass her with all this smut. That's what
the assignment was all about.
For a moment Jane considered what to do. Of all the forms of
sexual harassment she had suffered this seemed to be the most
serious, the most blatant. And yet she had no proof that what she
thought was true; certainly no proof that would convince the other
partners at the firm. But did the other partners need convincing?
Was this little idea Mr. LaGossi's alone, or were the other
partners already in on it?
They must know about it. Why else would they send her to
LaGossi?
Well, she would show them. They would try to break her, but
they would not succeed. Jane would complete their sham assignment,
and hand in her report without a shred of embarrassment.
It took just a short day for Jane to complete her research.
When she reported back to LaGossi the next morning, he listened
dispassionately to her report. But he at least had the sense to
tell Jane to close the door first. After all, he probably didn't
want the other associates hearing what a ridiculous assignment he
had given to Jane.
Jane read her report seriously, summarizing which actions were
obscene and which were not, describing those actions in the most
clinical manner possible: "The whipping activity, the biting of
sensitive areas, the use of small gerbils..." and so on. It seemed
to have an effect on LaGossi, for he was frowning by the time she
finished her report.
He shook his head. "I don't think you really got into the
assignment, Jane." He started to get up, picking up one of his
magazines off the floor.
"How do you mean?" said Jane, somewhat alarmed. Her hand
brushed against her suit jacket pocket, where she felt an
unfamiliar bulge inside. Suddenly, she heard, or thought she
heard, a small click.
But Jane was paying no attention to minute noises. All her
attention was confused on LaGossi, who walked towards her slowly,
opening the magazine in front of her as he put a hand on her
shoulder. Suddenly Jane was very aware that the door leading to
the hallway was closed.
"You see this?" said LaGossi, pointing to two individuals who
were using their anatomy in creative ways. "That's the kind of
thing that I'm talking about." He squeezed her shoulder softly.
"Mr. LaGossi," said Jane.
"Call me Fred."
"Fred--" Jane was so nervous that she dropped her notepad.
"Mr. LaGossi, I don't really think this is appropriate."
She struggled to escape his grip, but his arm held her firmly
down in the chair.
"What's wrong?" said LaGossi, holding the magazine closer.
His hand started to massage her shoulder. "Can't you imagine doing
something like that? Don't you have those kinds of urges?"
"Mr. LaGossi... please... no...." Jane attempted to use her
hands to push LaGossi's hand off her shoulder, but he grabbed her
hands, pinning them to the chair.
"You have to play along to get ahead," said LaGossi. "Haven't
you learned that by now?"
The magazine fell off of Jane's lap.
"Please... stop..." said Jane, now deathly afraid.
"Just relax," said LaGossi, whispering in her ear. "This
won't hurt a bit. When it's done, you'll feel like a new woman."
"No," said Jane, struggling to escape his grip. But he was
too strong.
Suddenly LaGossi let go of her arms, and grabbed her breasts,
pushing and squeezing so hard that Jane was lifted from the chair.
"No!" Jane cried, pushing him away. LaGossi, stunned, fell to
the floor.
Jane wrenched open the door. She yelled, "Help! Help!" at the
top of her lungs, running as fast as she could in any direction.
The next few minutes were a blur. When Jane started to
realize what was happening again, she found herself sitting in her
office. Sam Bertow, Julia Kern, Bart Tolcott and a number of the
other attorneys were standing around her, looking anxious.
"She's coming around now," said Bertow.
"All right, clear out," said Bart gruffly. The crowd started
moving towards the door. "Move it! If there's a story, you'll
hear about it."
Shortly thereafter they were alone, just Jane, Bart, and
Bertow.
"Jane, are you ok?" said Bertow.
"I think so," said Jane.
"What happened?"
"LaGossi... Mr. LaGossi tried to rape me," said Jane.
Bart raised his eyebrows. "Stay there." He left the office.
"He was having me do an assignment about pornography," said
Jane. "I thought it was just a way of tormenting me. But then he
closed the door, and then he started touching me...." she broke
down in sobs.
"There, there," said Bertow, gently holding her in his arms.
"It's going to be all right."
Time seemed to speed up, for suddenly Bart reappeared. "It's
all right," said Bart. "I sent him home. It's all right, Jane.
Why don't you go home now? We'll talk about it in the morning."
Jane nodded, still a bit shell-shocked. When she got home she
intended to call Denise, to call her family, but fatigue suddenly
overtook her, and she collapsed, just as she reached her bed.
The next morning Jane felt wiped out. She was still tired,
but she forced herself to get up. The memory of what had happened
was still fresh in her mind, but it was buffered, a little bit, by
one night's sleep. With trembling fingers, she undressed herself,
and took a long shower.
She felt better after that, at least well enough to get
dressed and go to work. No one caught her eye, though, when she
walked down the halls. And she found a message at her desk. Bart
wanted to see her, immediately.
"Jane," he said, when she entered his office. "Close the
door."
Close the door. That's what LaGossi had said. And the lights
were off. Could Bart do to her what LaGossi....? No, whatever
Bart's weaknesses, he had never forced himself on anyone. She was
as safe as she could be with him, in this way, at least.
Jane closed the door. For a long moment they sat in the
darkness.
"Did you talk to anyone?" said Bart.
"Not yet," said Jane.
"I talked to Fred," said Bart, meaning Mr. LaGossi. "Things
seemed to have gotten out of hand. He apologized for acting
inappropriately."
"Inappropriately? Bart, the man tried to rape me!" said Jane.
Bart sighed. "It's more complex than that."
"More complex? What's the complexity? Bart, I want that man
fired," said Jane suddenly. She hadn't thought it over before, but
it made sense. "If you don't fire him immediately, I'm going to
the police."
"Jane." Bart said her name, just the one word. He paused for
a moment, then continued. "You don't understand. You don't just
fire a partner."
"Bart, I know partnership law just as well as anyone around
here," said Jane. "You can vote out a partner, don't give me that
bull."
"It's not so easy," said Bart. "He's a senior member of the
firm, a name partner, one of the founding partners," he said.
"I wouldn't want to make you do anything difficult on my
behalf," said Jane, her tone heavily ladled with sarcasm. She
started to get up, seeing where this was leading. "If you'll
excuse me, Bart, I have a call to make."
"Wait," said Bart. "Don't you have any consideration what
this scandal will do for the firm?"
For the first time since LaGossi had attacked her Jane smiled.
"Why, yes, yes I do."
"All right," said Bart. "If you don't care about the firm, I
understand. But what about yourself?"
"What about me?"
"You have no proof he tried to rape you. It's your word
versus his," said Bart. "You'd never make it in court. And if you
lost, you'd be stigmatized. Nobody would ever hire you to practice
law for them. Think about that."
"It's a chance I'm willing to take," said Jane, getting up.
She wasn't bluffing.
"Wait!" said Bart, appearing anxious. "All right, all right,
we'll do it."
"Do what?"
"Let him go," said Bart. "But we have to wait for Teitelbaum
to get back. He's the senior partner."
"Where is he?"
"Disneyworld. He'll be back in three days."
"Three days!"
"Calm down," said Bart. "I've transferred LaGossi to the
Queens office in the interim. He's not going to come back until
this is resolved."
"Resolved by his being let go."
Bart nodded. "Just give us a little time."
"Three days," said Jane. "Thursday."
"You have my promise," said Bart sincerely.
For once Jane's parents were supportive. They were horrified
that someone had attempted to attack their baby girl. "What are
they doing about this?" said Mr. Sommers.
"They say they're going to convene in three days and kick
LaGossi out."
"As well they should," said Mrs. Sommers.
"Mom, they were all in on it," said Jane.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you think they knew that this assignment with LaGossi
was a sham from the start? What do you think, LaGossi told Bart,
"I need someone to research an important pornography assignment.
Who do you have in mind to assign for this project?" All the
partners must have known from the start," said Jane. "The only
thing that's unclear in my mind is whether they knew how far he
would go."
"Dear, that's shocking," said her mother.
"Mother, wake up and smell the coffee! I've been trying to
tell you that the firm's been like that from day one. From day
one! But you wouldn't listen! You just kept quoting from the
corporate culture handbook, telling me how I had to fit in and do
what they were doing, while all the women associates were sleeping
with the partners! Even after I told you all this you kept
repeating "You need a mentor. You need a mentor. You need a
mentor." Well, who should be my mentor now? Which partner? Was
there any partner who was not in this scheme from the beginning?
"Jane!"
"So for once keep your men-tor advice to yourself! I'm sick
of it!" said Jane. She hung up on her parents. It felt good.
The next three days were anticlimactic.
Jane sat at her desk, doing little. She didn't speak to
anyone, and no one spoke to her. She spent the time working on
small cleanup matters, but her heart wasn't really in it. Every so
often she would tug at her center desk drawer, but it wouldn't
budge.
Then, on the second day, she tugged on her desk again.
And it moved.
It actually gave an inch. Jane, excited, pulled harder. But
she only succeeded in spraining her arm. Still, the harbinger was
there; she would be leaving the firm soon. Better days were on the
horizon.
The following morning was the beginning of the day. Three
days had passed. Jane entered Bart's office. Bart sat there,
staring into space.
"I haven't talked to the partners yet, Jane," said Bart.
"Maybe later today."
Jane, nodding, left.
She came back later that afternoon. Bart still seemed to be
sitting in the same position. "Not yet," said Bart. "Maybe later
today, or first thing tomorrow."
"No," said Jane, drawing a line. "You do it today, you do it
now, or I go to the police, right now."
Bart looked at her. "Jane, do you have any idea what goes
into preparing a partner's meeting?"
"Sure do," said Jane. "Calling all the partners to the
conference room, sitting them down and calling the meeting to
order."
"It's not that simple," Bart grated. "This will be
complicated."
"Bart, you're a sophisticated lawyer," said Jane. "See if you
can't resolve the difficulties by 5 PM today."
Bart looked dully at her. "What is this? An ultimatum?"
"Call it what you like. But this will be resolved today, one
way or another," said Jane. "No more stalling."
She ran into Mr. Teitelbaum on the way back to her office.
"Jane," he said, by way of greeting.
"Hi, how was Disneyworld?" said Jane in a perfunctory way.
She didn't really care about his trip, didn't even know why she was
pretending to be interested.
"Disneyworld?" he said, frowning as he walked on.
At 5 PM on the dot Jane got a call. It was Dana. "Bawt wants
to see you," she said.
She found him sitting in his office, the lights off. Jane
closed the door and was about to turn on the lights, but Bart said,
"Keep them off."
"Fine," said Jane, taking a seat. "Well?"
Bart looked at her with bloodshot eyes. "We had a meeting of
the partners. We made the decision."
"Good," said Jane. "When is he leaving?"
Bart said, "It's not quite like that."
"Oh?"
"We're putting him on probation."
"Probation? Probation, for attempted rape?" said Jane. She
got up, reaching for the door.
"Jane, wait," said Bart. "We've transferred him to the Queens
office-"
"Stick your fucking head in the Queens office!" Jane snarled,
bolting from the door. She went to her office, grabbed her coat
and picked up one or two possessions from her desk, and prepared to
go. She never expected to return there again.
On impulse, she pulled at her center drawer. It opened with
a bang.
Jane paused. This was it. She cautiously peered inside.
There was a single solitary piece of paper. It was personal
letterhead, the letterhead of one Jonathan Baer.
Jonathan Baer. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Jane.
She had heard some of the associates talking about him, from time
to time... wait, he was the last one from Columbia to come to
Tolcott Teitelbaum, three years ago!
On the piece of paper were written, in large block letters,
I HATE THIS PLACE
"Where are you going?" Julia Kern cried, seeing Jane with her
coat and pocketbook.
"To be liberated," said Jane. She headed for the elevator
bank, standing firm and tall.
They all seemed to know; they were all lining the hallways,
looking at her.
"Goodbye, my diminutive friend," said Jane, passing Talman by.
He glared at her but said nothing.
"Goodbye, you incompetent fat slob," said Jane, waving to
Kapnick, who was munching a sandwich. He tried to say something,
but it came out as a gargle, his mouth was too full.
"Goodbye, you nasty son of a bitch," said Jane, tipping her
coat to Manuel Francois as she walked by him.
"Goodbye, my favorite S&M queen," Jane said to Amanda, who
gasped but said nothing.
At this point she was almost at the reception area. She saw
Heidi Blakelock. "Goodbye, you hairless whore," said Jane. Heidi
opened her mouth in shock, but no words came out.
Last but not least, standing by the exit was Bart. "Jane,
you're making a terrible mistake," he said.
"Bart, don't feel so bad," said Jane. "Just keep telling
prospective employees about your wonderful atmosphere, about your
great pro bono and writing program, and you'll sucker in one or two
more good law school graduates every few years. As for the rest of
you... I'll see you in court."
Chapter 7: The Final Battle
Fourteen Months later....
Jane grimaced as she went looking for her hat and coat. It
was time. After nearly a year of waiting and two months of
depositions, her case was going to trial.
Her criminal charges hadn't gone anywhere. The police had
been skeptical and the district attorney had refused to file
charges once he had learned that Jane had waited four days before
reporting the crime.
"I sympathize with you, Ms. Sommers," he had said, "But the
prosecution is going to hammer you on that, and no jury will
convict. We have only limited resources in this office, and we
have to allocate them as best we can. Unless you have further
evidence-"
"-of course I do!" said Jane. "I was raped! I was there! I
saw it!"
"A classic case of your testimony versus his," said the D.A.
"In a criminal trial where we have to convict beyond a reasonable
doubt, there's not a chance, unless you can show physical harm.
Now if you raised a civil suit, there you might win, because you
only have to show that your case is stronger than his, not that
your right beyond a reasonable doubt. Why don't you lodge a civil
suit?"
And so that is just what Jane did. But she lodged the suit
not just against Fred LaGossi, but against the entire firm,
alleging that the partners had tolerated and even promoted an
atmosphere where sexual harassment was the norm.
Her attorney, Mildred Aparn, had warned her it was going to be
tough. "They're all sticking together, Jane, all of them, and
they're going to deny everything. You've seen the depositions.
They've all agreed on a story that the problem was you, not them.
You have to be prepared for that. It's going to be you against all
of them. If you lose they can sue you for bringing a frivolous
suit, and force you to pay their legal fees."
Jane didn't think it was going to be this difficult. But
then, she didn't expect the firm to go without a fight.
Jane was suing for $6,400,000, one hundred thousand dollars
for pain and suffering for each of the 64 weeks that she had worked
there, and she also held out hopes that she could be awarded
punitive damages as well. They had just completed two months of
wearying depositions and discovery motions, and the time had come
to empanel a jury. It was also a tiring process, but one that
Aparn said was the most important. "Jury selection is everything.
If you get an unsympathetic jury, you're facing a real uphill
battle, even if you have a good case."
So Jane sat and watched fifty potential jurors come in, one by
one, and answer questions posed by Aparn and Robert Fox, the
counsel for Tolcott Teitelbaum. Presiding over the case was Judge
Malton Keiko, of New York Superior Court.
One prospective juror, a young homemaker from the Upper West
Side, was asked by Fox, "Do you believe most claims of sexual
harassment by women?"
The prospective shrugged. "It depends on the circumstances."
"Would you characterize yourself as a feminist?"
"I believe in equal rights for women."
Fox turned to the judge. "Will your honor please direct the
prospective juror to answer the question?"
The judge nodded. "The juror will please answer."
"Not really," said the woman.
"Not really," said Fox, as if this were a culpable admission.
"Tell me, are you married?"
"Yes."
"Does your husband read... pornographic magazines?"
"Objection!" said Aparn. "Relevance?"
"I'll give it some leeway," said the judge. "But only a
little, Mr. Fox. The prospective juror will answer the question."
"No," said the woman.
"If you caught your husband looking at Playboy... how would
you feel?"
"I wouldn't like it," said the woman, wrinkling her face.
"I move to strike the juror," said Fox promptly.
"On what grounds?" said Aparn.
"Bias, the inability to judge this case correctly."
"Your honor, this is a natural reaction," said Aparn. "If Fox
is allowed to strike everyone who doesn't like pornography, the
jury pool will be very skewered."
"Sustained," said Judge Keiko.
Fox then dismissed the juror using one of his preemptive
challenges, where he did not have to give a reason for dismissal.
Aparn glared at him. Fox seemed determined to keep all women off
the jury.
Sometimes the jury challenges went the other way. One time
Fox was working to keep someone on the jury, a young barber who was
an avid reader of Playboy.
"Do you keep copies of this magazine in your barber shop?"
Aparn asked.
"Sure."
"Out in the open?"
"Why not?"
"Aren't you afraid it will offend some of the customers?"
"A little bit of chest pillows? Whatsa problem?"
"Your honor, I move to strike this potential juror," said
Aparn promptly.
This immediately got her into a verbal duel with Fox, who
started to turn it into a first amendment issue.
"This has nothing to do with the first amendment," said Aparn.
"He can read the magazine all he likes. What this does show is his
attitude towards pornography and, perhaps, sexual harassment."
"What? Show me a link between pornography and sexual
harassment!" Fox declared.
Aparn turned towards the prospective juror. "You're married?
Have a girlfriend?"
"I have a girl," said the man.
"If she mouths off, what do you do?" Aparn asked.
"Why... I give her a little slap, now and then. Not to hurt,
just so she knows what's good for her."
The juror was quickly excused.
Finally, though, a jury of twelve was empaneled. Aparn
suspected that Fox tried to keep women off the jury, using his
preemptory challenges to knock women off who he suspected would be
sympathetic to Jane's argument. As a result the jury consisted of
eight men and only four women. Still, Aparn was satisfied that the
jury was reasonably fairly constituted. The case, now, would
largely be won (or lost) on the merits of Jane's argument.
And so finally, the case could begin. Mildred Aparn made the
opening argument for the plaintiffs.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. What you are about to hear
is the shocking tale of Jane Sommers work experience at Tolcott,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch. It's shocking not
merely because of the treatment she endured. She was verbally
abused, given lower and degrading work simply because she was a
woman, and degraded in front of her fellow attorneys. This in
itself is not shocking. You surely have heard other cases of
sexual harassment before"
Aparn stared at the jury. "What is shocking is how sexual
harassment was institutionalized at the highest levels of Tolcott
Teitelbaum. It was something that not only did the top partners
know about, but that they actively participated in. They actively
encouraged other associates to act abusively towards women in the
firm, and kept women from attaining positions of authority, except
for those who played ball."
"What do we mean by playing ball? During the course of this
trial you will hear how the only women who got ahead in the firm
were the ones who slept with the partners, including partners whose
ideas of fun included bondage and leather whips."
Amanda Warwick, sitting in the audience, slunk her head down.
"But Jane Sommers refused to play ball. Her punishment was
degradation and abuse, and ultimately, an explicit and firm
sanctioned attempt to rape her in order to break her spirit. When
we are done presenting out case it will be abundantly clear that
sexual harassment was the operating norm at this firm, and perhaps
something can be done to give Ms. Sommers some of her dignity
back."
Aparn sat down next to Jane, who whispered to her, "That was
good!", and Robert Fox stood up.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury. First of all, this trial
isn't about Tolcott Teitelbaum. That's what the plaintiff would
have you believe, but this isn't really about the firm. This case
is about Jane Sommers. She was hired because she appeared to be a
bright and promising young attorney. In reality the firm found
itself saddled with an incompetent lawyer, one who whined and
complained incessantly, one whose delusions and paranoia allowed
her to conceive of plots against her. You will find, when all the
testimony is completed, that you will be faced with two competing
versions of reality: Jane Sommers's, as witnessed by Ms. Sommers
only, and the firms, as testified by every single member of the
firm who Ms. Sommers had any contact with."
"If you're going to believe Ms. Sommers, then you'll have to
believe that everyone in the firm is lying. Everyone--from the
name partners, down to the junior paralegals and support staff.
All participating in one, great conspiracy against Ms. Sommers."
Fox turned to Jane, and grinned wickedly.
"No, when we are done what you will find is that Ms. Sommers,
cracking under the strain of working at a prestigious law firm, has
concocted a fantastic story in the hopes of extorting money from
her former firm. The weight of the evidence will simply not
support any other conclusion."
Fox sat down.
"It's gonna be tough," Jane whispered.
Judge Keiko banged his gavel. "Let us begin. First witness
for the plaintiff?"
Well, Jane had to admit, once the trial got started, it really
got started. The first witness was R. Bartlett Tolcott.
"State your full name please," said Aparn.
"R. Bartlett Tolcott," said Tolcott. He looked depressed and
bored, as he usually did. If he was anxious, he did not show it.
"Please state your full name," said Aparn again.
"Ruthmare Bartlett Tolcott," said Tolcott.
"What is your current place and position of employment."
"I'm a partner at Tolcott Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi,
Kentrust & Kirch," said Bart.
"You are one of the founding partners?"
"Yes."
"How long as your firm been in existence?"
"15 years."
The questions went on like that, with boring, background
questions being the norm, and it wasn't for several more minutes
before Aparn got to Jane.
"Do you recognize that woman?" said Aparn, pointing to the
plaintiff's table.
"Jane Sommers."
"What connection did she have with your firm?"
"She was an associate there fourteen months ago," said Bart.
"How long did she work there for?"
"Nearly 16 months," said Bart.
Sixty four weeks, Jane thought silently. Sixty three weeks
and four days.
"Who first interviewed her for her job?"
"I did," said Bart.
"What attracted you to hiring her?"
"She had good grades, came from a good school, seemed like she
would be a good lawyer."
"I see," said Aparn. "After she was given an offer, did she
accept?"
"Yes."
"What area of law was she promised to work in?"
Bart shifted uncomfortably, the first sign of unease he had
shown. "She wasn't promised anything."
"No?" said Aparn. "She wasn't promised a position in your
litigation department?"
"Litigation was filled," said Bart.
"Please answer the question," said Aparn.
"Promised? No," said Bart.
"You gave no indication that she might get litigation?"
"Well... I might have said that it was possible she might get
litigation," said Bart.
"I see. So you only said it was possible," said Aparn.
"Well, we'll hear more about that later. Now, when Ms. Sommers
arrived at your firm, did she get litigation?"
"No, it was filled up, just as I told you," said Bart.
"But isn't it true that another of your first year associates
who entered at the same time, one Sam Bertow, obtained a position
in litigation?" Aparn asked.
"Yes," said Bart. "That's when it filled up."
"I see," said Aparn. "When Mr. Robert requested the position,
he obtained it, and then it was filled before Ms. Sommers could
take it, even though both were hired at the same time."
"Uh... yes."
"When Ms. Sommers got there, did she express any surprise that
she was not assigned to litigation?"
"She was... a bit disappointed," Bart admitted.
"Disappointed? Why should she have been disappointed, if you
made no promise to her?"
"Objection!" said Fox. "Relevance? This is supposed to be a
case about sexual harassment. Why are we dwelling on this?"
"Your honor, I'm attempting to show disparate treatment," said
Aparn. "Both a man and a women at this firm, for all intents and
purposes equal, both sought the same position. The man got it, the
woman did not. I'm attempting to establish a pattern."
"I'll allow it," said Keiko.
"Now, Mr. Tolcott, why was Jane disappointed?"
Bart mumbled something.
"What was that, Mr. Tolcott? We didn't get that."
"Well, maybe she expected it," said Tolcott. "But I never
promised it, not firmly."
"I see," said Aparn. "Now you said that you gave her
something short of a firm promise. The commitment is getting
stronger as we discuss it. Now, why didn't you give the position
to Ms. Sommers?"
"We decided to give it to Bertow," said Bart.
"Why? Did he have better grades?"
"Um... no."
"Did he come from a better school?"
"Um... no."
"Then what was it?"
"We just thought he would be better for litigation," said
Bart. "It was a subjective judgment."
"Subjective," said Aparn. "That's a word I'm sure we'll
return to." She wet her lips. "Now, when Jane was told she could
not be in litigation, was she promised any litigation work at all?"
Bart nodded. "We said we'd try to give her some."
"Well then. How many cases was she on?"
"None," said Bart.
"How many depositions did she take?"
"None."
"How many litigation clients did she talk to?"
"Um... I don't know."
"Could the answer be none?" Aparn asked.
"Objection!" said Fox. "She's asking the witness to
conjecture. He's already said he doesn't know."
"Sustained."
"Withdraw the question," said Aparn. "It doesn't seem that
Ms. Sommers got much litigation work, does it?"
"Litigation wasn't booming. The corporate area was where we
had work."
"Yes, perhaps now is a good time to turn to the corporate
work. What sort of work was Jane given?"
"Well... she worked on a number of projects...."
"Let's be specific," said Aparn. "I want to know what type of
work she did. Did she draft any major documents?"
"Um... no."
"Did she draft any minor documents?"
"Yes," said Bart. "Corporate minutes and memos."
"Very well," said Aparn. "Did she do any due diligence?"
"Yes."
"Proofreading?"
"Yes."
"Delivering packages to your Queens office?"
Bart looked uncomfortable again. "Once."
"How would you characterize the work she received?"
Bart shrugged. "It was standard first year work."
"Really? Would you say that the other first year associate in
your department, one Tim Talman, did the same amount of
proofreading and package delivering?"
"Um... I'm not sure," said Bart.
"Come now! You know everything that goes on in your
department."
"Well, I'm not the head of the department," said Bart.
"We don't have a man of Mr. Teitelbaum's weight on the stand
right now but we will soon," said Aparn, maintaining a serious
facade. "But I'm talking to you. Are you saying you didn't know
what went on in your department?"
"Not all the specifics. But I'm sure, generally sure, that
they generally got the same quality of work."
"Hm," said Aparn. "We'll talk to Mr. Talman and look more
into that." She removed her glasses, and bit on one of the rims.
"Tell me, Mr. Tolcott, were there many women in your
department at the time Ms. Sommers worked there?"
"Certainly," said Tolcott. "At least a dozen."
"Women lawyers, Mr. Tolcott. Attorneys," said Aparn.
"Oh. We had a number," said Tolcott.
"Would the number have been three, Mr. Tolcott?"
"It might be... yes, it is."
"Who were they, at the time?"
"Amanda Warwick, Jane, and Heidi Blakelock."
"And how many attorneys in your corporate area?"
"About 25."
"So less than one eighth of your attorneys were women. Why so
few?"
Bart shrugged. "The ones we have get ahead. Amanda Warwick
just made partner."
So she did, not one month before the trial began. Warwick
became the first woman partner and the firm. Jane suspected that
she had been promoted in order to rebut charges of sexism. The
only thing that Jane wondered was whether Warwick continued to put
out for Bart now that she was a partner.
"One partner. How many other women partners do you have?"
"None," said Bart.
"How many did you have before Ms. Warwick."
"None," said Bart.
"I see." Aparn paused. She had to begin to tackle some
delicate topics next, and she had to proceed in the right way.
"You have said that the two women in your department, Jane
excepted, got ahead. How did they get ahead?"
Bart grunted. "They did the work."
"Did any of the work involve having sexual relations with
you?"
There was a gasp from the audience. It was Jane's mother.
"No," said Bart, reddening slightly.
"Did you ever have sex with Heidi Blakelock?"
"No," said Bart.
"Did you ever have sex with Amanda Warwick?"
"No."
"Or a paralegal named Julia Kern?"
"No."
"Or anybody at your firm."
"No," said Bart. "I'm a married man. That would be
unethical."
"You won't do anything unethical," said Aparn, musing over the
words. She seemed in a spell, for a moment, before she suddenly
turned to the Judge. "Your honor, I'd like to introduce my first
piece of evidence, Exhibit A."
Exhibit A was a large see-through bag, containing four pairs
of handcuffs.
"We got a search warrant and found these in your office, Mr.
Tolcott," said Aparn. She held the plastic bag up, and the
handcuffs clinked against each other. Bart winced.
"Well?" said Aparn.
"What's the question?"
"What's an ethical person like yourself doing with these
handcuffs?"
"Objection!" said Fox. "The witness's private life is of no
relevance."
"That's true," said Aparn. "If he doesn't share his private
life with the women in the firm. If I can complete my questioning,
we can find that out."
"Very well," said Judge Keiko. "But let's not go any farther
with this than we have to."
Aparn nodded. "Now, Mr. Tolcott, since we've all agreed that
you can answer the question, what were you doing with those
handcuffs? Or didn't you know they were in your office?"
"I knew," said Tolcott dully.
"Well?"
"They were a novelty gift, given by a friend," said Tolcott.
"Oh, so you put them on, and then you somehow slip out of
them?"
"Something like that?"
Aparn took one of the handcuffs out of the bag. "Would you
mind putting one of these on and showing me how it works?"
"I lost the instructions," said Bart.
"A pity," said Aparn. She addressed the jury. "A real pity."
Her voice suddenly grew stern. "Mr. Tolcott, did you use these on
any woman at your firm?"
"No."
"I'd like to introduce Exhibit B, your honor."
This time Bart did blush when the black body whip was
displayed.
"Also found in your office, Mr. Tolcott," said Aparn. She
lifted it up, giving it an experimental flick. "Also a...
novelty?"
"A joke," Bart mumbled. "A private joke."
"Did you use this private joke on anyone at your firm?"
"No," said Bart. But he wasn't looking at her when he said
it.
"Why did you keep all these... novelties at your office, if
you never used them there?"
"I bought them, and just keep forgetting to bring them home,"
said Bart.
"I see," said Aparn. She went back to the plaintiff's table,
lifted up a sheaf of papers. "I have here a sworn deposition from
my client stating she saw you in various acts of coitus with Ms.
Warwick and Ms. Blakelock. What have you to say to that?"
"I deny it," said Bart.
"You deny it? Why would my client make it up?"
"I don't know," said Bart. "Maybe she was jealous."
"Jealous?" said Aparn. "Did you ever sense that she was
attracted to you?"
"I don't know," said Bart.
"In my client's deposition she specifically cites seeing you
having sexual congress with both these women." Aparn flipped
through the pages, began reading, "At one point I saw Bart rolling
on top of a balding woman, and then I realized it was Heidi
Blakelock."
"Objection!" said Fox. "As anyone can see, Ms. Blakelock is
not bald."
Heidi, sitting in the audience box, was stoney-faced.
"An interesting question," said Aparn. "Your honor, I'd like
to relieve Mr. Tolcott, for the moment, and call Ms. Blakelock to
the bench."
"Whoa! I haven't gotten an opportunity to cross Mr. Tolcott,"
said Fox.
"I intend to call him right back," said Aparn. "You can cross
him after I'm done with him."
"Why don't we start up again tomorrow morning?" said Judge
Keiko. "We'll get an early start." He banged his gavel. "Court
is in recess until 9 AM tomorrow, court dismissed!"
"How did it go?" Jane asked.
"A good beginning," said Aparn. "We've already established
that the firm cheated you at least once, by denying you litigation
work. And I think that Bart's little sex toys really decimate his
credibility."
"Then we're winning."
"Whoa, Jane. This is just the first battle. There's a lot
more to come," said Aparn.
"What are you going to do about Heidi? How are you going to
show that she is bald?" Jane asked. "Can you order her to have her
head examined?"
"I have something better in mind," Aparn grinned. "Don't
worry, Jane. I'll be sure to treat your friend Heidi well."
The next morning Heidi Blakelock took the stand. She had a
sour look on her face, as if she had been sucking lemons all night.
Every so often her gaze turned to Jane and she glared at her. Jane
glared back.
"Your name and position," said Aparn.
"Heidi Blakelock, third year associate at Tolcott Teitelbaum,"
said Heidi.
"Ms. Blakelock, what department are you in?"
"Corporate."
"How would you term your career there so far? Successful?
Average? Poor?"
"Fairly successful," said Heidi carefully.
"To what do you attribute your success?" Aparn asked.
"Hard work?"
"And nothing else?" Aparn asked. "Are you close to Mr.
Tolcott."
"We're friends," said Heidi, flaring her nostrils at Aparn.
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing else."
"Have you ever had sexual relations with Mr. Tolcott?"
"Never!"
"My client has sworn in a deposition under penalty of perjury
that she saw you procreating with Mr. Tolcott," said Aparn.
"She's wrong."
"Wrong? Did she see some other woman with Mr. Tolcott?"
"I don't know," said Heidi. "I wasn't there."
"So you weren't. Or were you?" Aparn asked. "My client
remembers seeing a balding woman procreating with Mr. Tolcott. Do
you know anyone at the firm who fits that description?"
"No," said Heidi.
"Do you, Ms. Blakelock, fit that description."
Heidi glared at her. "No."
"So why would my client mistake a balding woman for you?"
"I don't know," said Heidi.
"Ms. Blakelock, I have here a deposition from the Hair Club
for Women. It states that you're not only one of their clients,
but that you're also a member."
"I... consulted with them," said Heidi. "On a personal
issue."
"A personal issue. I see."
Aparn turned away, and paused, considering. Then she turned
back, and said, "Ms. Blakelock, would you stand up?"
Slowly, with a confused look on her face, Heidi did so.
"Please come out of the jury box and stand where everyone can
see you."
Heidi slowly complied.
"Would you please touch your toes?"
"Objection!" Fox cried. "Relevance?"
"All will be relevant once Ms. Blakelock complies," said
Aparn. "Come now, a simple request."
"All right," Keiko growled. "But counsel, this better lead
somewhere quick."
Heidi suddenly looked frightened.
"Come now, Ms. Blakelock, we're waiting."
She turned to the judge. "Do I have to do this?"
The Judge nodded.
Blakelock turned to Aparn. "I can't reach my toes."
"Just reach down as far as you can without injuring yourself,"
said Aparn graciously. "That will do."
Heidi looked left and then right. There was no way she was
going to get out of this. Slowly, and with a look of utter pain on
her face, she reached down with one hand to touch her ankles. The
other hand stayed on her head, holding on to the top of her hair.
"Both hands, Ms. Blakelock, both hands," Aparn insisted.
Heidi looked at Aparn, an expression of tremendous hatred on
her face. She quickly removed her hand, sending it dashing down to
her ankles, and quickly stood up.
"See?" she said.
But everyone gasped, and Heidi felt an unfamiliar cold draft
on the top of her head. Looking down she saw a large clump of
hair. Her hairpiece.
Everyone, including the jury, gasped. Heidi suddenly growled,
looking around where to pounce. And then she caught sight of Jane,
who was quietly chuckling. Their eyes met, for a moment, Heidi's
ire meeting Jane's amusement, and Heidi screamed, launching herself
at the plaintiff's table.
"Bailiff!" Judge Keiko cried, as Heidi pounced over the table,
reaching for Jane's throat.
Jane, shocked by this sudden attack, was too surprised to
move, and in seconds she felt sharp claws at her throat. She
choked, and tried to push the hands away, but Heidi stubbornly
continued to choke her. Jane gasped for breath, amid shouts of
"Bailiff! Bailiff!"
Suddenly she felt a vibration that came through Heidi, as if
something had just impacted on her. And then Jane saw the second
blow out of the corner of her eye as it came down, a large black
baton striking Heidi right on her bald spot. She shrieked and let
go, collapsing to the ground.
"Order! There will be order!" said Judge Keiko, slamming his
gavel.
"Judge, I request a mistrial!" Fox declared.
"Everyone, my chambers, ten minutes."
Well, it was a messy situation. Keiko denied defense's motion
for a mistrial, and ordered the jury to disregard Blakelock's
outburst. As for Blakelock herself, she was charged with contempt
of court and assault and battery, and eventually, after the trial
was over, was convicted and sentenced to five weeks in a women's
penal institution. But that all came later.
When court reconvened, Aparn didn't mention the outburst, but
she did have one comment on the matter. "For the record, let it
show that Ms. Blakelock could indeed be seen as the balding woman."
Bart was called back to the stand.
"Did Ms. Sommers ever complain to you that she was getting
inferior work?" Aparn asked.
"Yes," said Bart.
"What did you do?"
"I gave her good assignments."
"Such as?"
"Working on prospectuses."
"Working on? Does that mean drafting?"
"Not really."
"What does working on mean, then?"
"Proofreading," Bart mumbled.
"And this is an example of a good assignment?"
"She was a first year associate. First years do a lot of
that."
"Did Mr. Talman do much proofreading?"
"He did some."
"Nearly as much as Ms. Sommers?"
"Not nearly as much."
"Would you say, significantly less?"
"Maybe," said Bart.
"Hm," said Aparn. "So why was Ms. Sommers getting so much
more proofreading and scut work?"
"She wasn't a good attorney. I received a lot of complaints
about her," said Bart.
"So here you have a top graduate of Columbia University, and
she can't measure up to the Tolcott Teitelbaum standard. Is that
correct?"
Bart mumbled something.
"Speak up, Mr. Tolcott."
"She didn't measure up," said Tolcott.
"Is that why you ordered her to shelve books in the library?"
"Objection!" said Fox. "Leading question!"
"Sustained," said Keiko, looking bored.
"We were shorthanded in the library. Junior associates needed
to help out."
"I see. Was Mr. Talman assigned to library work?"
"Yes," said Bart.
"Did he ever work in the library?"
"I don't know," said Bart.
"You don't know! Mr. Tolcott, did you ever directly order Mr.
Talman, or any other associate, to shelve library books?"
"I... I don't remember," said Bart.
"Does I don't remember mean probably yes, or probably no?"
"Perhaps I didn't," said Bart. "I really can't remember."
"Let's move on to another point," said Aparn. "Ms. Sommers
also requested pro bono work, is that correct."
Bart nodded. "Correct."
"What sort of pro bono work did she receive? Was she not
assigned the task of balancing the checkbook for one of your
partners?"
"Yes," said Bart.
"And was this work not represented to her as pro bono."
"Um... it might have been," said Bart. "But you have to
understand, Ernie Wafford is an elderly lawyer. Helping him is a
public service."
"Did you call on any of your other associates to do a public
service for Mr. Wafford."
"Uh..."
"In the time that Ms. Sommers was there?"
"No," said Bart. "But she was the one asking for all the pro
bono work."
"I see," said Aparn. "And did you consider ordering Ms.
Sommers to deliver packages, normally a function of messengers you
employ, also a pro bono function?"
"We're a small firm," said Bart. "We need everyone to pitch
in, and help out."
"Did you order anyone else to deliver packages to your Queens
office while Ms. Sommers was at your firm?"
"No," said Bart.
Aparn took a deep breath. "Mr. Tolcott, you've just admitted
that you've singled out Jane for the lowliest tasks, tasks that no
self-respecting attorney would perform, such as proofreading on a
large scale, delivering packages, and shelving library books. What
accounts for your giving Ms. Sommers such disparate treatment?"
"I don't think it was such disparate treatment," said Bart.
"Well, all right, maybe there was a small difference in the work
she was getting. But you have to remember she was a difficult
attorney to deal with, and I had many complaints about her. I was
just trying to find a place she could fit in."
"Like the mail room," said Aparn. "Mr. Tolcott, would Jane
have received better assignments if she had sex with you?"
"Objection!" "Overruled."
"No," said Bart.
"Have you ever had Heidi Blakelock deliver packages?"
"No."
"Or Amanda Warwick shelve books?"
"No."
"Thank you, Mr. Tolcott." Aparn turned to the judge. "I
reserve the right to recall this witness at a later date."
Fox got up to do some questioning of his own.
"We'll take up the cross examination after lunch," said Keiko,
banging the gavel.
Aparn appeared upbeat over lunch. "We're doing well."
"How come you didn't ask him about the final episode with
LaGossi?"
"Later. We're building up to that. We covered some good
ground this morning. We've got him to admit that he singled you
out for degrading treatment, and we've at least planted the
question in the jurors' minds as to whether he's slept with the
other women in your department who got ahead."
"Good!" said Jane cheerfully.
"Don't be too happy," said Aparn. "The cross examination is
coming right up. They're going to try to do a hatchet job on you.
Whatever you do, don't react."
Fox cleared his throat. "Mr. Tolcott, what was your opinion
of Jane Sommers, as an attorney?"
"Poor. I received complaints from all the attorneys she
worked with."
"All the attorneys? Without exception?"
"Yes," said Bart.
"Well, Ms. Sommers has charged that there was some sort of
conspiracy by the men in the firm to sexually harass her. Did Ms.
Sommers work with either of the two women in her department?"
"Yes."
"And what did they have to say?"
"Amanda Warwick thought she was incompetent, that she couldn't
even make copies correctly. Heidi Blakelock thought she was
disrespectful and rude."
"So even the women in the department had troubles with her?"
"Correct."
"Tell me what other complaints you heard about Ms. Sommers.
And please, don't feel pressed by time to be brief. I'm sure the
court wants to hear everything you have to say."
Bart went into a litany of complaints, from Jane being late
with work or sloppy or inattentive to instructions to subordinate
towards superiors to shoddiness with assignments. Jane just sat
there and listened to it. It didn't really bother her; it sounded
mostly like a fantasy tale. When they were done Fox looked at
Aparn and said smugly, "Your witness."
"Just a moment," said Aparn, to Bart, who was in the process
of leaving the witness stand. "I have a few more questions."
"Much of the criticism that Ms. Sommers received were for her
work in proofreading, looking at term sheets, and taking minutes,"
said Aparn. "Is that correct?"
"Yes," said Bart.
"Did Ms. Sommers receive any criticism in areas relating to
legal work?"
"Those are examples of legal work," Bart maintained.
"Proofreading," said Aparn. "Delivering packages. You have
an interesting idea of legal work."
"Objection!"
"Withdrawn!" said Aparn. "Mr. Tolcott, you've said that Ms.
Sommers was simply unable to hack it at your firm. But she was a
top graduate of Columbia Law School. What representative schools
did you other junior associates attend?"
Bart mumbled something.
"Speak up, Mr. Tolcott."
"Rochester. Cardozo. New York."
"New York University School of Law?"
Bart shook his head. "New York Law School."
"I see," said Aparn. "So tell me, why was a top graduate of
Columbia unable to compete with the best and the brightest from
Rochester and Cardozo?"
Bart shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."
"Neither do I, Mr. Tolcott, neither do I," said Aparn. "I'm
done, your honor."
The next witness to be called was Mr. Teitelbaum. Unlike Bart
he looked very nervous, sweating profusely.
"Please state your full name."
"Bruce Nadler Teitelbaum."
"What is your place of employment and position?"
"I'm a name partner and head of the corporate department at
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch," said
Teitelbaum.
"Head of the corporate department," said Aparn. "Good. Then
perhaps you can answer some questions that puzzled Mr. Tolcott."
Teitelbaum nodded, looking uneasy.
"Why was Mr. Talman consistently assigned superior work, while
Ms. Sommers was assigned messenger and library work?"
"I... I don't know."
"You don't know! But you were the head of the corporate
department! If you didn't know, who would?"
"I... I wasn't involved too closely with the junior
associates," said Teitelbaum. "I was out of the office alot...
attracting clients."
"So even when you were in the office, you didn't know what was
going on."
"Right," said Teitelbaum. Then, thinking about how that
sounded, he said, "Well, maybe I wouldn't put it that way."
"How would you put it, Mr. Teitelbaum?"
"I handled client recruiting. I let Tolcott handle more
administrative matters within the firm."
"So you were unaware how Ms. Sommers was being treated," said
Aparn.
"Yes," said Teitelbaum.
"No one ever mentioned it to you at a partner's meeting."
"N-No," said Teitelbaum.
"If we called Mr. Tolcott back to the stand, he would say he's
never discussed the matter with you."
"Well... maybe yes, in a general way. But I just get the big
picture, see?" said Teitelbaum. "I mean, I guess I knew, in a
general way, that there was something going on with Ms. Sommers,
but I didn't know the specifics."
"And you didn't ask, you didn't care."
"Not that I didn't care... it's just that I was busy.
Attracting clients is a full time job. Do you know how many meals
that requires me to eat out?"
Aparn eyed his enormous gut. "I can only guess, Mr.
Teitelbaum. But let's talk about something that you do know about.
You worked with Ms. Sommers on occasion, correct?"
Teitelbaum nodded.
"When Ms. Sommers asked you for a pro bono assignment, what
did you give her?"
"Pro bono? I don't recall."
"Let's see if I can jog your memory," said Aparn. She picked
up a memo off her desk, handing it to Teitelbaum. "Does this look
familiar?"
Teitelbaum looked at it, and his eyes widened. He gulped,
nodding.
"Would you care to tell us about it?"
"It's confidential," said Teitelbaum.
"Oh, you wouldn't want to reveal confidential client
information, then."
Teitelbaum nodded understandingly.
Aparn started to put the memo back on her desk. "Wait a
minute. I see this memo is billed to your nonbillable number.
That means there's no client for this one, right?"
"Um...."
"Then perhaps you'd care to discuss this memo that you asked
Ms. Sommers to research."
"Uh...."
"Then I will." Aparn turned to the jury. "Mr. Teitelbaum
asked Ms. Sommers to research how accusations of adultery could
effect alimony proceedings. Although this task wasn't billed to
the client, Ms. Sommers, for some unexplainable reason, was asked
to research the issue of adultery, including adultery with a
prostitute-"
"Objection!" said Fox, jumping up. "Relevance?"
"I'll have to agree with counsel on this one, Ms. Aparn,
unless you have a point."
"My point is, that there was no client for this task because
this was not a real assignment. This was just a work task meant to
embarrass Ms. Sommers. Is that correct, Mr. Teitelbaum?"
"Um...."
"Was there or wasn't there a client for this memo?"
"Uh... kind of...." Teitelbaum was shifting uncomfortably in
his seat.
"Which one was it, Mr. Teitelbaum? Either there was a client,
or there wasn't, and this was obviously an attempt to harass my
client."
"There was a client," said Teitelbaum, in a low voice.
"Really? Who was it?"
"Objection!" said Fox. "What's the relevance of who the
client was?"
"Your honor, the plaintiff was forced to do research on a
sexually explicit subject. If there was a client then this may
have been legitimate research; if not, it may have constituted an
attempt to harass her. When Mr. Teitelbaum names this client we
will know who it is."
"I can't tell. Client confidentiality."
Judge Keiko frowned. "I think under the circumstances we can
keep it out of the court transcripts. Stenographer, strike Mr.
Teitelbaum's next response. Mr. Teitelbaum, answer the question."
"The client... the client was me. But it was all theoretical
research," said Teitelbaum hastily.
Aparn hid a small smile. "I have no further questions, your
honor."
Fox declined to cross examine him, and they adjourned for the
day.
"Sorry we didn't get anything there," said Jane. "But I told
you the memo was for him. It was the pornographic memo for LaGossi
that was the harassing one."
"I know," said Aparn, now permitting herself the luxury of a
smile. "I just wanted to do a little more to establish the
character of one of the partners. Let me worry about strategy,
Jane. This is just the beginning."
The next day Vic Carbone, Jane's former secretary, was called
to the stand.
"Your name and occupation, please?"
"Vic Carbone. I'm a secretary at Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing,
LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch." Vic stared out with his large square
jaw.
"You were assigned to work for Jane Sommers, correct."
"Yeah," said Vic.
"Is it true, Mr. Carbone, that you called my client a babe?"
"Uh... I don't remember."
"Do you remember calling her a slut?"
"Uh... no."
"Did you call her a slut."
"I... don't think so."
"Remember, Mr. Carbone, you're under oath," Aparn reminded
him.
"No, I did not," said Vic, more firm now.
"How about a whore or a bitch?"
"Objection!"
"Overruled. Get to the point, Ms. Aparn."
"I have a sworn deposition from my client stating that you
called her all these things, during a disagreement between the two
of you. Is that correct?"
"No. Uh, we had a disagreement, but I never said those
things."
"Really?"
"Yes. I treat women well. I don't use that sort of
language."
"Really," said Aparn. "I thought truck drivers were very free
with their language. You are a former truck driver, are you not?"
"Yes," said Vic.
"What was the nature of your argument with my client?"
"She was complaining about my typing, whining about small
things."
"Small things such as 22 errors on a single page?"
"Listen lady, don't exaggerate," said Vic, pointing a beefy
finger at Aparn. "If anything, she bullied me."
"She bullied you. Hm," said Aparn. She paced back and forth,
and then said, "After your small... disagreement, did you bundle up
her memo into a paper ball, throw it at her, and after it bounced
off her nose, you said 'fix it yourself, bitch'?"
"Uh... no," said Vic.
"Now, when Ms. Sommer's friends called her, did you or did you
not tell them that Ms. Sommers no longer worked at the firm."
"Definitely not!" said Vic.
"Mr. Carbone, you're under oath," Aparn reminded him
"I didn't! They were asking for Joan Stimmers. Joan Stimmers
left the firm two years before!"
Aparn waved some papers in her hand. "I have sworn
depositions from two of Ms. Sommers friends who called and asked
for Jane Sommers, not Joan Stimmers."
"Well, they're lying! Or they didn't speak clearly!"
"Did you ever stop to think why all these people were calling
Joan Sommers line to speak to Joan Stimmers?"
"No! I'm a secretary! I'm not paid to think!"
"I can well believe that," said Aparn. There was a titter
from the audience. "Do you like women, Mr. Carbone?"
"Sure."
"Two of your ex-wives don't think so," said Aparn.
"Objection!" cried Fox. "Mr. Carbone's relations with his
wives are not relevant to his relation with Ms. Sommers."
"Normally I'd agree," said Aparn. "However, Mr. Carbone has
introduced a statement as to his character. He just stated, and I
quote, that 'he treats women well', and that he doesn't use foul
language. I'm just following up on that claim."
"Very well," said Keiko.
"But your honor-"
"Sit down, Mr. Fox," said Keiko, glaring at him.
Fox sat.
"Now, Mr. Carbone, I have a deposition from your second ex-
wife, who said that you called her every name in the book. In
addition, she said you locked her in the closet, slapped her
around, and once, in a drunken stupor, beat her with a two day old
semi-petrified french bread."
"Hey!" Vic shouted. "You can't be saying these lies here!"
"What's wrong, Mr. Carbone? Can't stand a little bit of the
truth?" Aparn taunted. "You've always hated women, haven't you?"
"Lies!" Vic cried.
"It's all because of your mother," said Aparn. "She dressed
you like a girl, made you wear lipstick, didn't she?"
"Why you-" Vic leapt up, grabbing the railing. "You lying
bitch! Shut your big m-" Suddenly he stopped, looked at the jury,
and realized what he was saying.
"Thank you, Mr. Carbone. I'm glad you don't use such foul
language." Aparn turned to the stenographer. "For the record,
that was a 'lying bitch' that Mr. Carbone just called me." She
turned to Judge Keiko. "I'm done with the witness, your honor."
Robert Fox immediately got up. "Mr. Fox, I want to apologize
for the way that opposing counsel tricked you. As I understand it,
normally you are not quick to anger, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"And it was Ms. Sommers who threatened you, not the other way
around, after these alleged calls to Ms. Sommers were made."
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"That she would work to make my life miserable," said Vic.
"After this incident was discussed with your personnel
supervisor, Jonathan Kenneth, what did he do?"
"He reprimanded Ms. Sommers. Said she acted in
appropriately." Vic was grinning now.
"Thank you, Mr. Carbone." Fox turned to Aparn. "Your
witness.
"I want to call Jonathan Kenneth to the stand," said Aparn.
"Please state your name and position."
"My name is Jonathan Kenneth. I'm the, uh... office
administrator at Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust &
Kirch," said Kenneth. "Well, actually I'm the office
administrator, personnel administrator, accounting department, and
sergeant at arms for the firm."
"A jack of all trades," said Aparn. "Ms. Sommers came to you
with a complaint. What was it about?"
"She said that she was having some troubles with her
secretary. She believed that he was telling callers that she no
longer worked there."
"And?"
"When I talked to Vic, he said that wasn't so, that callers
were asking for Joan Stimmers, who had left the firm two years
earlier. You note the similarities in the name, Jane Sommers, Joan
Stimmers."
"I note it, Mr. Kenneth," said Aparn. "What was your
resolution of the situation?"
"I told Ms. Sommers that she had acted rashly by making such
a reckless accusation, and that she should attempt to work better
with her coworkers."
"So you believed Mr. Carbone, and you disbelieved Ms.
Sommers."
"In essence, yes."
Aparn looked puzzled. "Why?"
Kenneth frowned. "Well... Vic's been with the firm a number
of years. We all knew him."
"Even the partners?" said Aparn, glancing at the jury.
"Well... yes," said Kenneth. "Jane was more of an untested
quantity. Also, even then I had already heard she was having
troubles with the other attorneys. She seemed to be a troublemaker
even then."
"So you took Carbone's word for it, because he was part of
your existing cliche."
"I wouldn't characterize it like that."
"Well, you certainly didn't attempt to investigate the
allegations any more, did you?"
"How could I?"
"You could have talked to Ms. Sommer's friends who claimed
they were told that she no longer worked there."
"They were her friends," said Kenneth, making a face.
"Which means that their testimony would be unreliable," said
Aparn. "Yet you were willing to trust Mr. Carbone's word."
"Like I said, he's been with the firm, a number of years."
"Yes, and that you all know what he's about," said Aparn. "I
heard you."
She paced the floor, back and forth for a moment. "Let's talk
about another subject, Mr. Kenneth. The firm outing."
Kenneth gulped, but nodded.
"Tell me about it, Mr. Kenneth."
Kenneth did, painting a perfectly normal picture of a firm
outing. Aparn let him continue for a moment or two, until he was
done.
Then she stared at him, just stared at him. Kenneth shifted
uncomfortably in his seat. Finally Aparn said, "It sounds like a
very dry and formal event. Would you characterize it in that way?"
Kenneth swallowed hard. "Well, it was a normal, regular, firm
outing. Not much to say."
"A normal, regular firm outing. Mr. Kenneth, isn't it true
that all the women at this outing, except for my client, were
dressed in thongs, bikini's, and wet T shirts?"
"So?" Kenneth shrugged. "It was an informal event."
"What of the men? Were they dressed in bathing suits and
briefs?"
Kenneth swallowed hard. "I don't recall any that were...."
"And did you not travel around to the women associates'
offices to tell them to dress, as you put it, informally?"
"Um... I think I may have mentioned to a few people that
informal dress would be ok."
"And isn't it also true that spouses were not invited?"
"Yes. We wanted a firm-only event."
"And yet secretaries were invited," said Aparn. "Although, I
understand that not all the secretaries were invited. Is that
true?"
"Well, some of the secretaries were invited, that's true,
yes."
"And isn't it also true that the women who were invited were
all the younger secretaries with figures?"
"Now how on," said Kenneth. "We didn't base our invitations
based on looks. We thought, what we thought was, the younger
secretaries wanted to have a good time, while the older ones might
not be as interested-"
"So the partners instructed you to invite the younger
secretaries who might, as you put it, want to have 'a good time',"
said Aparn. "Is that the case, Mr. Kenneth?"
"You're making it sound so sinister. All we did was have an
afternoon out in the sun. It was hardly a capital crime."
"No one is suggesting it was a capital crime," said Aparn.
"But let us probe more closely to see what sort of a crime it was.
So there you have it, all the female associates, paralegals, and
nubile secretaries, all dressed in tight bathing suits, surrounded
by fully dressed partners. What was the first athletic activity
that afternoon?"
"Um... it was volleyball, I think...."
"How many men played in the volleyball game, Mr. Kenneth?"
"Well, none. It was a women's only event," said Kenneth.
"For women only," said Aparn. "And you refereed the event, is
that not correct?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Kenneth, why did you instruct all the women players to
take a dip in the pool before the playing began?"
"I thought they might enjoy being cool. They were going to
get warm out there on the playing field."
"I suspect they weren't the only ones getting warm," said
Aparn. "So the secretaries played volleyball, bouncing up and
down, while the men cheered, and watched."
"Your honor!" said Fox. "I've been quite patient. Where is
this leading?"
"Your honor, women in sheer bathing suits were playing
volleyball while fully clothed men watched, leered, and made
provocative comments," said Aparn. "This is just another
demonstration of the atmosphere at this firm."
"But a minor point," said Keiko. "Please move on, Ms. Aparn."
Aparn nodded. "What other sorts of games did you play that
day, Mr. Kenneth?"
"I don't know. Normal sorts of sports."
"Such as pin the tale on the paralegal?" Aparn asked.
"Well...."
"And wasn't it true that Julia Kern was the paralegal, and Mr.
Tolcott did the pinning, only it was pinching, and he played a
number of times...."
"People were just fooling around," said Kenneth.
"What about when several of the attorneys smeared food on the
womens' bathing suits and proceeded to clean them with their
tongues?"
"I don't recall that," said Kenneth.
"It never happened?"
"I don't recall it."
"And don't you recall all the lewd comments about the women,
relating to everything from sexual ability to chest sizes?"
"No," said Kenneth. "I didn't hear any of that."
"No, of course you didn't," said Aparn. She turned to Fox,
nodding to him.
Fox sprang forward. "Mr. Kenneth, did you see anything
improper occurring at your outing?"
"No."
"Did any of the secretaries or anyone else there complain
about the proceedings?"
"No."
"Did everyone seem to have a good time?"
"Definitely."
"If such scandalous events were going on, why didn't anyone
else but Ms. Sommers complain about it?"
"I don't know," said Kenneth. "I still don't know how they're
making so much milage out of a simple volleyball game."
"Thank you," said Fox. "Your witness."
"I shouldn't have emphasized the outing so much," said Aparn,
frowning. She and Jane were eating in the court cafeteria.
"Why not? It was scandalous!"
"Of course it was. But it was hardly the most outrageous
thing that happened at the firm. And aside from a few snide
comments nothing happened to you, Jane. Fox's cross was very
effective. He may have convinced the jury that nothing improper
occurred, simply because no one else complained. That could hurt
our credibility, later."
"What about the stuff before, with Bart, and his whip, and
Heidi, and her hair?"
"That's good, but I think we lost a little momentum here. I'm
sorry. Maybe we'll do better tomorrow," said Aparn.
The next day Heidi Blakelock was called to the stand. She
looked calmer than the time she attacked Jane. The assault charges
were still pending against her, and the Judge ordered the bailiff
to stand by her at the witness box, just in case.
"State your name."
"Heidi Blakelock."
"Place of work and position?"
"I'm a third year corporate associate at Tolcott, Teitelbaum,
Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
"My client, Ms. Sommers, has claimed there is sexual
harassment at the firm, which prevents noncooperating women from
getting ahead," said Aparn. "Have you encountered any harassment
at your firm?"
"Never."
"Well, have you found your career stymied because you are a
woman?"
"No. My career is doing quite well."
Jane wondered what was going on here. Was Aparn gathering
information for the plaintiff, or for the defense?
"I'm glad to hear it," said Aparn. "Tell me, Ms. Blakelock,
are you close to Mr. Tolcott?"
"He's my friend, if that's what you mean," said Blakelock.
"Have you ever had sexual congress with your friend?" Aparn
asked.
"Never!" Heidi was offended by the mere suggestion, sitting
up slightly. The bailiff, standing next to her, stirred slightly.
"Well, my client claims to have seen you procreating with Mr.
Tolcott."
"She's lying!" said Heidi violently. "In any event, the
blinds were closed. She couldn't have seen anything."
"How did you know the blinds were closed?" said Aparn
curiously.
"I... I read it in her deposition," said Heidi.
"Hm," said Aparn. She looked at Heidi hard. "Hm," she said
again. "Ms. Blakelock the blinds were only partially closed."
"She still couldn't have seen anything from there, if there
were anything to see... which there wasn't," said Heidi.
"Well, there's only one answer for this," said Aparn, sighing.
"Your honor, I move that we have the jury visit the conference
room, and see for themselves."
The defense immediately objected.
"Chambers! Five minutes!" snapped Keiko.
"What's going on, counsel?" Keiko said. They were in private
chambers, Aparn, Fox, and the Judge.
"The hostile witness I was examining has made the contention
that it was impossible to see what was happening in Mr. Tolcott's
office from the conference room. I wish to arrange a live
demonstration to show that it was in fact possible."
"Your honor, this is grandstanding," said Fox. "Ms. Aparn is
merely attempting to arrange a juvenile field trip to
sensationalize the whole case-"
"Not at all," said Aparn. "If I'm not permitted to rebut the
witnesses' argument with the facts available, how am I supposed to
conduct the case? All I will be showing with my demonstration is
that it could be possible."
Keiko scratched his head. "All right, counsel, we'll try it
your way. But the first sign of this getting out of hand...."
"It won't, your honor. I promise," said Aparn. She
suppressed a grin. They had neatly fallen into her trap.
It was odd for Jane to return to the old offices. A chill
went down her spine as she walked into the lobby of the building,
accompanied by the judge, the jury, the lawyers, and the security
personnel. Jane kept away from the Tolcott Teitelbaum partners,
never making eye contact.
When she stepped out of the elevator into the reception area
Jane had to forcefully push herself forward to keep going. She
started to shake a bit when she walked down the hallway. She hoped
that no one noticed. She had never expected to return here.
Everyone filed into the conference room with a minimum of
fuss. After a few moments the judge, conferring with the bailiff,
said, "Are we all here? Good. Counsel, proceed?"
"This is where Jane saw everything as it happened," said
Aparn. She gestured across the way. The blinds in Bart's office
were fully closed. "But before I show you the main attraction,
first, a demonstration." She gestured to a technician, who turned
on a large TV in the room.
It was a computer generated model, showing an individual in
one room, watching what was happening in another room across the
way where the blinds were partially open. The people in the model
looked like live action dummies, with one of them looking like a
heavy-set middle aged man, and another looking like a woman with
little hair on the top of her head.
"Your honor-" Fox began.
The computer models quickly took off their clothes, revealing
unstated features underneath. The models started to rub against
each other, rolling on the ground.
"Your honor!" said Fox again.
"Stop the tape," said Keiko. The television was turned off.
"Counsel, I was not informed of this."
"Just a demonstration of what might have been seen," said
Aparn.
"There's no way to know if that computer model could be
accurate," Fox objected. "And it makes a mockery of the court."
"A mockery? How is it inaccurate?" said Aparn.
"We are here," said Fox. "We can look out the window and see
the view that Ms. Sommers allegedly saw."
"You've got a point," said Aparn. She picked up a walkie
talkie out of her bag and said, "Ok."
Suddenly, the blinds in Bart's office opened half way. And
there, in the office, were Bart and Heidi Blakelock, hugging each
other. Then Bart raised a big black whip and started to hit her.
The view was partially obscured by the light curtain, but the
outline of what was going on was clearly visible.
Jane looked around, her mouth hanging out. Then she saw Bart,
standing to the side, not four feet away from her. How could he be
in two places at once?
And then Bart and Heidi in the other room took off their
masks, revealing two young people.
"Just a demonstration of what my client actually saw," said
Aparn.
"Your honor! I insist that you declare a mistrial!" said Fox.
"On what ground?" said Aparn.
"Prejudicing the jury with this... this farce," said Fox.
"This what my client actually saw, at least what she is
representing as what she saw," said Aparn. "It is no different
from sworn testimony."
"It's irregular, but I'm inclined to agree," said Keiko.
"Your honor-"
Keiko turned to Fox. "Counsel, if you want, you may stage a
demonstration of your own showing how the jury could not have seen
Mr. Tolcott and Ms. Blakelock procreating together."
"But... they never did it in the first place!"
"So you have nothing to show, fine," said Keiko. He turned to
Aparn. "In the future, counsel, I would appreciate if you would
give me advance warning about your 'visual aides'."
"Of course, your honor."
As they exited the room Jane noticed Bart's head, hung low.
"We're doing well, Jane."
"We are? I thought those theatrics might backfire."
"They won't. It's one thing to describe to the jury exactly
what you saw. But here they got to see it for themselves. A
picture is worth a thousand words, Jane. The image of those two
actors hugging will be burned into their minds for the rest of
their lives. I'm half surprised the judge didn't order a mistrial."
"You took quite a risk."
"And well worth it. It's just your word versus all of theirs.
We still have an uphill battle, remember?"
Heidi Blakelock was called back to the stand. Two bailiffs
stood by the witness stand, one to either side, each with their
hands on their sturdy truncheons.
"Ms. Blakelock," said Aparn. "We hope you're feeling better
today," she said, incidently reminding the jury of what had
happened just days before.
Blakelock nodded curtly.
"Ms. Blakelock, you have said that you were good friends with
Mr. Tolcott, nothing more."
Blakelock nodded again.
"So you were just friends with Mr. Tolcott, and never acted in
any other way, either publically or privately."
Blakelock nodded once again.
"Your honor, I'd like to introduce exhibit 16," said Aparn.
She held up a small photo.
"What is it?" said the judge, straining to look. The jury was
also trying to peer at the small photo in her hand.
"Oh, you can't see?" said Aparn. "That's all right, I've had
it enlarged." She gestured with her hands, and two men brought
forth a huge photo on an easel, easy enough for the jury to see
from across the room.
When the stand was set up and the covering removed, there was
some tittering from the jury.
The photo showed a stone-faced party, sitting on a lounge
chair, while a cheerful looking Heidi, clad in a tight bathing
suit, sat on top of him, her legs wrapped around his body. The
look on Heidi's face was particularly memorable, a mixture of
happiness... and triumph.
After the Judge had gaveled down the laughter, Aparn turned to
a furiously white-lipped Heidi Blakelock. "Just friends, Ms.
Blakelock?" she said, in a mocking tone.
"It was a relaxing atmosphere... we got a little silly," said
Heidi, looking like she could kill.
"A little silly," Aparn repeated. "I see." She bit the frame
of her glasses. "Let's turn to another tact. You worked with my
client and two paralegals at the printers, correct?"
"Yes."
"How was your work relationship with Ms. Sommers?"
"Strained," said Blakelock. "She had difficulty following
instructions."
"Did you yell at her?"
"No."
"If we called your paralegals to the stand, would they agree
that you didn't yell at her?" Here Aparn was bluffing. The
paralegals had already told her that they would refuse to testify.
"Well... I may have spoken a bit harshly, once or twice. But
we needed to get an important task done correctly and quickly."
"Did your task get completed correctly?"
"Yes."
"And on time?"
"Yes."
"And yet you told Mr. Tolcott that your client, represented at
the time by Jane Tulley, complained about Ms. Sommers afterwards.
Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"What did Ms. Tulley say?"
"She intimated that Ms. Sommers had behaved unprofessionally."
"Intimated? How did she say it?"
"I don't recall."
"Did you ask why she felt that way?"
"No."
"You weren't curious what had triggered this observation?"
"Look," said Blakelock. "The most important thing in our
business is the happiness of the client. The why's are not so
important."
"How did it work? Did Ms. Tully call you up, and complain
that Ms. Sommers was 'unprofessional'?"
"No... we were just talking about the deal in general,
afterwards. Then Ms. Tully said something to the effect that she
had been dissatisfied with Jane's performance."
"I see," said Aparn. "Your honor, I am done with this
witness, for now. Reserving the right to recall, I'd like to call
Ms. Jane Tulley to the stand."
"Objection!" said Fox. "Relevance?"
"That should be obvious, counselor. I wish to corroborate Ms.
Blakelock's statement," said Aparn.
"Proceed, counsel."
Jane Tulley looked nervous as she took the oath. Her eyes
shifted this way and that as Aparn stood before her.
"Ms. Tulley. We have a little mystery we'd like you to clear
up," said Aparn.
"Sure," said Tulley, frowning slightly.
"Ms. Blakelock says that you were dissatisfied with Ms.
Sommer's performance at the printers. Is that so?"
"Well, dissatisfaction maybe isn't the right word."
"Really? Then how about unprofessional? That's the
intimation that Ms. Blakelock-"
"I don't know," said Tulley quickly. "It was so long ago, a
small thing, that I don't really remember."
"Did you remember saying anything about Ms. Sommers?"
"I don't know. I may have."
"But you don't remember what that might have been."
"No."
Aparn paced back and forth for a moment, pursing her lips.
Tulley sat uneasily in the witness chair, shifting her position as
if she found it uncomfortable.
"Ms. Tulley, do you remember that night at the printers at
all?"
"In a general sense," said Tulley, in a guarded way.
"What were you doing that night at the printer?"
"I was working over some of the key legal issues with Heidi...
Ms. Blakelock."
"I see," said Aparn. "And how did you work with Ms. Sommers?"
"Well...."
"Did you discuss legal issues with her?"
"No."
"Did you discuss drafting details with her?"
"No."
"Then what contact did you have with Ms. Sommers?"
"Not really very much," said Tulley.
"In fact, would it be fair to say that the two of you didn't
exchange more than a dozen words between you?"
"Objection!"
"Overruled."
"We didn't speak very much," said Tulley.
"Then how come, if you didn't speak very much, or have very
much contact with each other, did you complain about Ms. Sommers?"
"I... I didn't really complain about her," said Tulley,
blushing.
"Didn't really? Then why did Ms. Blakelock get the impression
that you most definitely did complain about her?"
"I... don't know."
"Neither do I, Ms. Tulley, neither do I," said Aparn. "I'm
done with the witness, your Honor."
Fox immediately got up. "Ms. Tulley, do you remember exactly
what you said to Ms. Blakelock, over a year ago?"
"No."
"Is it possible you were critical of Ms. Sommers, for whatever
reason?"
"Yes."
"Even if you were not overtly critical, is it possible that
Ms. Blakelock could have misinterpreted your remarks-"
"Objection!" said Aparn. "Speculation about another's state
of mind."
"Sustained," said Keiko.
"Question withdrawn," said Fox. "The fact remains that a
person could have drawn that conclusion from your conversation,
correct?"
Tulley nodded.
"Thank you, Ms. Tulley."
Aparn took a deep breath. "I'd like to call Denise Walzer to
the stand."
Denise did, looking nervous.
"State your name and place of work."
"My name is Denise Walzer, I'm an associate at Davis Polk in
New York," she said.
"Ms. Walzer, you're a friend of Ms. Sommers, correct?"
Denise nodded.
"Did Ms. Sommers ever tell you what went on at her firm?"
"Frequently," said Denise.
"Please feel free to elaborate."
And Denise did, spending the next ten minutes describing
Jane's snide secretary, her book shelving and package delivering
assignments, the sexual escapades of the partners, and all the
abuse that Jane endured.
"Objection, your honor," said Fox. "The plaintiff can testify
to all this. Of what value is this witness's second hand
testimony?"
Keiko turned to Aparn. "Counsel?"
"This witness has first hand testimony, which will be revealed
shortly, if I am permitted to proceed," said Aparn.
"Very well," said Keiko.
"Ms. Walzer, tell us about the time you visited Ms. Sommers at
Tolcott Teitelbaum," said Aparn.
Denise took a deep breath. "Well, I had arranged to visit
Jane at the firm. I had heard all of her stories about it, but had
never quite believed everything, so I resolved to get a firsthand
look for myself. I went to their reception area and the
receptionist called up that I was coming. Only, well, she called
the wrong number, and after fifteen minutes of waiting I made
inquiries. When she finally reached Jane at her correct extension,
Jane came down and brought me up to her office."
"Jane was under great time pressure, completing an assignment.
Then Ms. Blakelock came in, and screamed at Jane."
"Why?" Aparn asked.
"Because some of the work done by the paralegals had been done
incorrectly."
"So she screamed at Ms. Sommers."
"Yes," said Denise. "Then, to my surprise, she yelled at Jane
to get the faxes out-"
"Why did that surprise you?"
"Well, usually in a law firm the secretarial staff sends out
faxes," said Denise. "I've never heard of it being done any other
way."
"Go on."
"And then Ms. Blakelock yelled she wanted it done, and yelled
the word 'Stat!' in Jane's ear," said Denise. "It seemed very
odd."
"What did Ms. Blakelock do next?"
"She turned to leave, and then saw me," said Denise. "She
gave me a look that could kill, and then left."
"Why did she do that?"
"I don't know," said Denise. "Perhaps she had some left over
bile from her attack on Jane."
"Objection!"
"Sustained."
"And then?"
"And then other people came into the office. The short guy...
Talman, her roommate. And the heavyset fellow, David Kapnick. Mr.
Kapnick started to grill Jane about her dating habits."
"Her dating habits?"
"Yes, you know, asking her when the last time she had been out
on a date. Then he told Jane she had a 'good bod'." Denise
paused. "And then I left. I certainly had enough of it; I
certainly don't know how Jane could have endured more than a year
of it."
"Thank you, Ms. Walzer."
Judge Keiko turned to Fox. "Counsel?"
Fox shook his head.
Keiko looked at his watch. "Then let's call it a day," he
sighed. "Court stand adjourned until 9 AM."
As they exited the courthouse Aparn said, "Another solid hit,
Jane."
"How so?"
"We've got them to practically admit that this charge of
unprofessionalism against you was trumped up."
"It didn't look so clear to me, after that cross examination."
"Then you weren't looking properly," said Aparn. "Didn't you
see how nervous Tulley looked? The jury did. They noticed how she
was going back and forth on her story. Any disinterested viewer
would conclude, correctly, that the whole thing was a cooked up
plot between Blakelock and Tulley, and that Tulley was getting cold
feet at the prospect of committing perjury in open court. After
all, she's doing it to save Tolcott Teitelbaum's hide, not her
own."
"I hope so," said Jane.
"Trust me, we've blasted Blakelock's credibility, and scored
some blows against Tolcott's as well."
"But what about LaGossi."
"Wait. Just wait. All in good time."
The next day Jane found herself in a meeting with Aparn and
Fox shortly before court was to go in session.
"Listen," said Fox. "This is starting to be a circus. Why
don't we look for a dignified solution?"
"How much?" said Aparn bluntly.
"$50,000, no admission of wrongdoing," said Fox.
Even before Jane could reply, Aparn made a dismissive noise.
"Don't waste my time, counselor."
"Then think $60,000," said Fox. "Even if you win this thing,
which you're not guaranteed to, you have no idea how much you'll be
awarded, and furthermore it will be after a long and arduous
trial."
"The trial only seems long and arduous for your clients," said
Aparn. She stood up. "Come along, Jane."
"Wait! I want to hear what your client has to say," said Fox.
"Jane, surely you're willing to listen to reason?"
Jane paused, considering for a moment. "No," she said,
heading out the door.
The next day Manuel Francois was called to the stand.
"Your name?"
"Manuel Francois de Petitcroissan," said Francois.
There was a titter in the courtroom.
"Your position?"
"I am a senior associate at Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing,
LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
Aparn bit the rim of her glasses. "Have you worked with my
client, Mr. Francois de Petitcroissan?"
"Francois will do," said Francois dryly. "Yes, I have."
"What sorts of assignments?"
"Term sheet comparisons," said Francois.
"Would you say that you got along well with my client?"
"Adequately," said Francois, shrugging.
"Adequately," said Aparn. "Tell me, when you were reviewing
the work that my client was doing for you, did you tell her to stop
cringing when you yelled at her?"
"I... don't recall."
"Do you recall whether my client told you to please turn to a
certain page in a document, and you yelled at her, 'Why do you say
please!'?"
Fox objected. "Your honor, what is the relevance of this?"
"Counsel, is this getting to a point?"
Aparn nodded curtly. "Did you not also tell my client that
she was a, and I quote, 'stupid whiny girl'."
"I... don't remember. It was a long time ago to remember a
random remark," said Francois.
"Is it such a random remark, Mr. Francois? Do you say those
sorts of things just as casually as you say pass the salt or what
time is it?"
"Well...."
"In fact, don't you have a long history of being abusive to
woman?" Aparn asked.
"No!"
"Then why did you call my client a whiny girl?"
"She botched an assignment-"
"And how did her gender enter into it-"
"It's not, it's just an expression-"
"That you use," said Aparn. "Thank you, Mr. Francois."
Francois just sat there, openmouthed.
"Your witness," said Aparn, stepping down.
Fox immediately sprang up. "Mr. Francois, how long have you
been at the firm?"
"15 years."
Francois was a fifteenth year associate? Jane hadn't known
that.
"And you're a senior associate?"
"Correct," said Francois.
"So... you were passed up for partner."
Francois frowned. "In a manner of speaking."
Why was Fox doing this? Such a line of questioning could only
make Francois or the firm look bad. Or both. Where was this
leading to?
"How did you feel about not making partner?"
"A little... disappointed."
"Do you think that perhaps you became a less happy person as
a result, and perhaps you developed a little temper towards
everyone?"
"That's possible," said Francois guardedly.
"Thank you. Now, have you worked with other junior associates
besides Ms. Sommers, other junior male associates?"
"Yes."
"Such as Mr. Talman?"
"Yes."
"I have a sworn deposition from Mr. Talman that you once
called him a tiny pipsqueak, a little man who does little work. Is
that correct?"
"Um... I don't recall exactly...."
"Could it be correct?"
"I suppose...."
"And didn't you once refer to David Kapnick as the fat boy
with a ham sandwich constantly jammed in his mouth?"
Francois frowned, although he was starting to understand where
this was going. "I might've said something like that... of course,
I was just letting off some steam."
Fox smiled. "Now, did you ridicule Mr. Talman and Mr. Kapnick
because they were men?"
"No."
"Did you criticize Ms. Sommers because she was a woman?"
"Definitely not!"
"Your witness," said Fox.
Francois started to get up, but Aparn waved him down. "Just
one additional question, Mr. Francois. You referred to my client
as a whiny girl. Did you ever refer to any male associate as a
stupid boy, or in any other gender specific way?"
Francois thought a moment. "Uh... not that I can recall."
"I'm done, your honor," said Aparn, heading back to desk where
Jane sat. But when she sat down she whispered to Jane. "That kind
of backfired. We lost some ground there."
Jane realized it too. The jury had been shown that Francois
was a crude and brutal associate, but it seemed that he
discriminated equally among men and women.
"Your name, and position, please."
"David Kapnick. I'm a fifth year associate at Tolcott,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
"Mr. Kapnick, did you know my client?"
Kapnick cast a glance at Jane. "Yeah." His hands fidgeted
about; drink and food were oddly absent.
"Did you visit her office often?"
"From time to time."
"Did you make a habit of leaving food on her desk?"
"A habit? No?"
"Your Honor, I'd like to introduce exhibit 28," said Aparn,
holding up a clear plastic bag with a sandwich inside. "This ham
and rye sandwich came from my client's desk at her former place of
work."
"You're going to try to pin that on me?" said Kapnick. "That
could be anyone's sandwich," he scoffed.
"Really?" said Aparn. "Your honor, I'd like to pass this
sandwich around to the jury. They might note the distinctive bite
marks-"
Judge Keiko took one wiff of the open bag and made a face.
"Put it away, Counsel. We get the point."
"If necessary we can have molars made from this bite
impression and have them compared to your own teeth. Will that be
necessary, Mr. Kapnick?"
"Well, no, ok," said Kapnick. "It might well be one of my
sandwiches. So?"
"Does the name Doctor Lunch mean anything to you, Mister
Kapnick?"
There was a titter in the background.
"Doctor Lunch...." said Kapnick slowly.
"Wasn't it the name that you were called in the firm?"
"Objection!" said Fox. "Relevance?"
"Very well," said Aparn quickly. "The key issue is this: why
did you leave your food on my client's desk?" said Aparn.
"I don't know. I'm absentminded."
"Absentminded," said Aparn. "Your honor, I would like to
excuse this witness for the moment and call Dr. Robert Finney to
the stand. Doctor Finney is a professional expert in the area of
animal psychology."
Keiko nodded. Kapnick, looking a little confused, vacated the
witness stand.
"Your name, occupation, and specialty?"
The bearded young man responded, "My name is Robert Finney, I
teach at Rutgers University and have a PhD in Animal Psychology."
"Mr. Finney, did you not recently publish a paper concerning
how animals mark their territory?"
"I did. It was published in Ecology Today last month."
"What was your conclusion, based on your studies; why do
animals mark their territories?"
"For a variety of reasons, initially," said Finney. "But the
overarching reason is to mark their territory to attract a mate."
"I see," said Aparn. "How are their territories marked?"
"Sometimes, with urine," said Finney. "But also animal
possessions or partially eaten food can be used."
"Partially eaten food," said Aparn, raising an eyebrow. "Now,
would this theory work for humans?"
"I don't know," said Finney. "I've never seen a documented
case. But it's certainly possible."
"Objection!" said Fox. "Mr. Kapnick is not an animal!"
"I aim to show that he is," said Aparn. There was a snicker
in the gallery. The judge nodded for Aparn to proceed.
"What if I presented evidence to you that in an office setting
a male worker was repeatedly leaving his food on the desk of a
female coworker. Could that fit in with your theory?"
"It's certainly possible," said Finney.
"Meaning that the male would be trying to attract the female
by marking her territory as his, thus implying that she was his to
possess."
"That's certainly the way animals do it," Finney agreed.
"Thank you, Doctor Finney. Your Honor, I'm ready for the
return of Mr. Kapnick."
"Not so fast," said Fox. "I have a few questions of my own
for the good doctor." He stepped up to the witness box. "Doctor
Finney, this theory of yours applies to animals. Have you ever
observed it among humans?"
"No."
"Have you any scientific facts that shows that it operates
among humans?"
"Well, further studies are needed-"
"Please answer the question."
"Well, no," Finney admitted.
"People are more intelligent than animals, correct, Doctor
Finney? They can communicate with each other in language, can they
not?"
"Correct," said Finney.
"Then isn't it more likely that if a guy wants to ask a girl
out on a date, he's more likely to proposition to her than to
urinate or leave food on her desk?"
"Well...."
"Objection!" said Aparn, springing up. "Hypothetical, Your
Honor."
"Sustained."
"I have no further questions for this expert," said Fox.
David Kapnick was called back to the stand.
"Did you ever ask my client how many times she had dated?"
"No," said Kapnick.
"No?"
"Well, I might have asked her when was the last time she had
been on a date, but it was just talk."
"Just talk," said Aparn. "And was it just talk when you asked
her the last time she had had sex?"
"I don't recall saying that," said Kapnick, reddening.
"Don't recall! You don't recall! A very lawyerly response,"
said Aparn. "I have here a deposition from my client which states
that you asked her on numerous occasions when the last time she had
intercourse, how she would rate it on a one to ten scale, what sort
of implements did she employ-"
Kapnick, reddening, shook his head. "You must be mistaken."
"You haven't heard all the comments, how can you answer either
way," said Aparn. She looked at a list. "Did you ever tell my
client at the firm outing that she had a "good bod"?"
"Not that I recall," said Kapnick.
"Did you ever suggest that my client was uptight, and the
reason she was uptight was because she wasn't, in your own words,
getting any?"
"I don't recall that," said Kapnick.
"There's a lot you don't recall, Mr. Kapnick. Does the
statement you don't recall mean that it could have happened?"
"Don't recall means... I don't recall," said Kapnick
stubbornly. "And if I really said all these things, you'd have
witnesses, other than your client, right? Where are they?"
Aparn pursed her lips. "I'm here to ask the questions, if you
don't mine, Mr. Kapnick." She paused, then continued. "You worked
with my client on a closing binder, correct?"
"I supervised her work, yes."
"And tell me, Mr. Kapnick, when my client made a mistake, did
you make a point of publicizing it?"
Kapnick frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Did you not call over other associates and point out my
client's error, and laugh at her?"
Kapnick continued to frown. "I don't recall."
"It's a pity. I would have thought that attorneys need to
have sharper memories," said Aparn. "I'm done, your honor. Thank
you, Doctor L- Mr. Kapnick."
Kapnick reddened, and there was more than one snicker in the
courtroom. Judge Keiko glared at Aparn suspiciously but said
nothing.
Fox stood up. "I find it curious that no other witnesses have
come forward to substantiate all the lewd comments that you were
alleged to make, Mr. Kapnick. Tell me, when you encountered Ms.
Sommers, were the two of you often alone?"
"No," said Kapnick slowly. "Usually, we were in the presence
of other associates. In fact, she shared her office with another
associate."
"So if you really had said some of those things to her, surely
some of them would have been overheard by others?"
"Objection!" said Aparn. "Hypothetical."
"Sustained."
"No further questions," said Aparn.
"Then we'll break for lunch," said Keiko, giving Kapnick a
mischievous glance.
"I'm sorry Jane, but they got the better of us on this one,"
said Aparn. She was sitting in the courtroom cafeteria with her
client, slowly spooning her soup.
Jane got a sinking feeling. "How do you mean?"
Aparn said, "Kapnick's rejoinder was particularly effective.
He told us to put up other witnesses or shut up, and we can't."
"We can't?"
"No one will testify against the firm," said Aparn. "They're
all sticking together. I told you it would be an uphill battle."
"Do you think the jury believed him?"
"Not sure," said Aparn. "His 'don't recall' evasions were not
very credible, but he made up for some lost ground with his
counterattack. My guess is that this phase is a draw."
"Then things aren't so bad," said Jane.
Aparn put a hand on Jane's shoulder. "Jane, at this point we
should be 20 point ahead of the game."
"Moss, John Moss, Chief Librarian at Tolcott, Teitelbaum,
Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch." Moss sat on the stand, glaring
at everyone. Something looked oddly... not right about him, until
Jane figured it out. Of course; the cigarette was missing. This
was the first time she had seen him without one.
"Chief Librarian, hm," said Aparn. "How many librarians are
there at Tolcott Teitelbaum?"
"One," said Moss, glaring at her.
"I see," said Aparn. "I'm told that it was a tradition at
Tolcott Teitelbaum for some of the junior associates to help out in
the library, shelving books. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Who was assigned to perform this function in the last year?"
"Tim Talman and Jane Sommers," said Moss.
"So they both came and shelved books for you."
"Well... no," said Moss. "Jane did, once or twice."
"Really," said Aparn. "And why not Mr. Talman as well?"
"He was... always busy."
"Busy," said Aparn. "Tell me, did you ever ask my client to
shelve books in your library?"
"Yes."
"And did you ever ask Mr. Talman?"
"Well... kind of," said Moss.
"Kind of?"
"Well, like I say, he was always busy. There wouldn't have
been much use," said Moss.
"I see," said Aparn. "There was only use if Ms. Sommers
shelved the books." Moss opened his mouth to object, but Aparn was
quicker. "Tell me, Mr. Moss, were the partners aware of this
situation?"
Moss cast a fearful glance at the partners seated behind the
defendant's table, then nodded. "Yes, but there was nothing wrong-
"
"In having a woman lawyers shelve books, I know," said Aparn.
"Your honor, may the witness please be allowed to answer the
question his way?" said Aparn.
Keiko banged his gavel. "Ms. Aparn, let Mr. Moss have his
say."
"No one did anything wrong," said Moss adamantly.
"So having a woman attorney do a menial task while the male
attorney is excluded from doing such a task is not wrong," said
Aparn.
"You're making it out to be a man/woman thing," said Moss.
"That's just the way it happened to be! It was coincidence!"
"Coincidence," said Aparn. "Hm, was it also coincidence that
you instructed my client to 'get down on her skirts' while shelving
books?"
"I... I don't recall saying that."
"There seems to be a lot of that going around," Aparn
remarked. She picked up a bunch of papers, and waved them to the
jury. "Your honor, I have for the record depositions from managing
partners at 20 medium sized firms in the city. All of them state
that they never had and never would make their attorneys shelve
books. In fact the only attorney we could locate who had ever done
such a task was... my client. At this firm." Aparn turned to
Judge Keiko. "No further questions, your honor."
Later, after the day's session had adjourned, Aparn remarked,
"We made up some lost ground with Moss."
"Why? Just because he made me shelve books?" said Jane.
"Yes, that and because you were the only one doing the
shelving," said Aparn. "That was one bit of testimony they
couldn't, or wouldn't rebut. Apparently they don't have the
stomach for out and out perjury."
"But the jury doesn't believe them, do they, when they all say
'I don't recall'?" Jane asked.
Aparn made a face. "It certainly weakens their case, and
every little bit helps. But we've still got a ways to go. Look on
the bright side, tomorrow will be a fun day. Just wait and see who
we have to put on the witness stand tomorrow morning."
"My name is Harry Studley Kentrust, and I'm a partner at
Tolcott Teitelbaum," said Kentrust. His voice was barely a
whisper, and he looked very uncomfortable. Perhaps, anticipating
the line of questioning that was to follow, he wasn't looking very
forward to this day in court.
Jane personally wondered why he was being called to testify.
Her contact with him had been minimal, and she had never had any
real run-in's with him. She wondered if Aparn's decision to call
him had anything to do with Kentrust's eccentricities, especially
when it came to matters of his personal wardrobe....
"The full name, if you please, for the record," said Aparn
pleasantly.
"Tol.. Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ken...
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kirch... no
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch... I mean," he seemed
flabbergasted by such a simple question.
Fox quickly got up, looking almost as nervous as Kentrust.
"Your honor, I would request a brief recess so that the witness-"
"No, I'm ok," said Kentrust. He didn't want this delayed any
longer. He had been dreading this day for weeks and just wanted to
get it over with. He winced as he saw his wife looking worried in
the spectator's gallery. Kentrust took a deep breath. "I work for
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch," he said.
"As a partner," said Aparn.
"Partner? Yes, I'm a partner," said Kentrust. Suddenly he
turned to the Judge. "Can I smoke while I'm here?"
"Not in my courtroom," said Judge Keiko, looking oddly at
Kentrust. By the way he was acting, one would have thought that
Kentrust was guilty of murder.
"Are you feeling nervous, Mr. Kentrust?" Aparn asked.
"Why do you ask that?" said Kentrust.
"You look rather uncomfortable. I was just wondering what the
source of your discomfort was," said Aparn.
"I'm fine," said Kentrust.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to talk about it?" Aparn
asked, almost teasingly.
"Your Honor, what is this, a session at the psychiatrist?"
said Fox.
"Get on with it, Counselor," said Keiko, nodding.
"Very well," said Aparn. "Mr. Kentrust, are you familiar with
my client?" Aparn asked.
"Her?" said Kentrust. "Well, I seen her around."
"Has she ever been in your office?"
Kentrust gulped. This was it. They were going to raise the
issue of the pantyhose affair. Crossdressing was still frowned on
in modern society, and he was about to be stigmatized.
"O-once or twice," said Kentrust.
"And what happened when she was in your office?" said Aparn.
Kentrust exploded. "She didn't see anything! I was just
trying them on!"
Keiko banged his gavel. "Mr. Kentrust, please calm yourself."
"Your honor, where is this line of questioning leading?" Fox
asked. He was of course aware of the pantyhose affair and wanted
to cut it off at the quick.
"Counsel?" said Keiko.
"I'm attempting to inquire about an assignment that my client
worked on for Mr. Kentrust," said Aparn. "But Mr. Kentrust seems
to have some difficulties in answering these simple questions."
"I can do it," said Kentrust, sweating nervously. "Ask your
questions."
"Did you have my client do you son's homework?" Aparn asked.
"Um..."
"Specifically, did Ms. Sommers pull up a large number of cases
that your son, then in law school, could have found himself?"
"Well, my kid was overburdened," said Kentrust.
"And Ms. Sommers was not; in fact, the firm only seemed to
keep her busy shelving books," Aparn remarked.
"Objection!"
"Sustained."
"Did you ever have any other associate at your firm do your
son's homework?"
Kentrust bit his lip. "She wasn't doing his homework, only
pulling up the cases...."
"Did you ever have any other associate pull up cases for your
son?"
"No," Kentrust admitted.
"Thank you," said Aparn. "I'm done with the witness, your
honor."
That was it? That was all the questioning? Kentrust
immediately sported a large grin. She wasn't going to ask about
his cross-dressing. Immediately, he got up, but Fox waved him
down.
"I have a few quick questions," said Fox. "How long did it
take Ms. Sommers to complete this assignment?"
"A few hours," said Kentrust.
"Did you ever ask her to do anything of this sort again?"
"No," said Kentrust.
"Why did you pick Ms. Sommers to do this assignment?"
Kentrust, now at ease, shrugged. "She just happened to be
available. It was random, really."
"Thank you," said Fox, sitting down.
"We'll break for an early lunch," Keiko announced.
"He was nervous you were going to ask him about the pantyhose
incident," said Jane.
"I could tell," said Aparn wryly.
"Why didn't you?" Jane asked.
"It wasn't relevant to our case," said Aparn. "Every piece of
evidence we bring up must somehow directly relate to the harassment
that they inflicted on you. The fact that Kentrust likes to get
dressed up in pantyhose may be titillating, but it's not exactly
related to the case we have against them. In any event, it's not
as if he dresses up entirely like a woman-"
"But he does!" said Jane. "Remember the time when he came
into his office as a man, but left as a woman?"
"What?" said Aparn. "You didn't tell me about this!"
"Didn't I?" Jane frowned. She related how she had been
working late one night, and had seen Kentrust enter his office.
Some time later, a woman came out, and Kentrust was nowhere to be
seen. "I wasn't sure at the time, but now I think that was
Kentrust!"
"The woman? Him, dressed as a girl?" Aparn laughed
hysterically, and Jane joined in, despite the stares they were
getting from the other people in the cafeteria. It so happened
that the Tolcott Teitelbaum partners were sitting on the other side
of room, and immediately figuring out the topic of conversation,
they glared at Jane and Aparn, sending daggers their way.
"Are you sure?" said Aparn, when she had sufficiently
recovered.
"I think so," said Jane. "It certainly makes sense now,
doesn't it?"
"Perhaps it does," said Aparn. "Ah, I haven't laughed that
hard in a long time. The image of that middle aged screaming guy
in a dress... it reminds me of a MASH episode...." She calmed down
a bit, and cleared her throat. "Unfortunately, we can't use it in
court because it's still not relevant. However, it was still a
good morning. Kentrust was looking very guilty, and he
communicated that quite clearly to the jury, who still have no idea
what he was feeling guilty about. We've also established that you
were once again singled out for a menial task. It's only one
incident, but it helps to establish a pattern, first the book
shelving, and now this."
When the court was back in session the next witness was to be
called was the kitchen help.
"Why are we calling her to the stand?" Jane hissed.
But Aparn had already stood up and was approaching the witness
stand. "Your full name, for the record, please."
"Ivanova Svederlosk Mastikova," said Ivanova, glaring at
Aparn.
"Mastikova," said Aparn. "Is that Ukranian?"
"Russian!" said Ivanova, glaring at Aparn.
"My apologies," said Aparn, giving a small smile. "What is
your position at the firm?"
"I clean the kitchen, I do the dishes."
"Did you often encounter my client?"
"From time to time, in kitchen," said Ivanova.
Aparn raised a piece of paper. "Did you ever tell my client
that women should stay in the kitchen?"
"Well...."
"That women should stay home and just make babies?"
"Uh....." For once Ivanova seemed at a loss for words.
"And that women should be quiet and just let men talk?"
"I just expressing my opinion," said Ivanova. "No harm in
that."
"Certainly no harm," said Aparn. "Or is there? Tell me, were
the partners aware that you were pressing this view on my client?"
"Aware?" said Ivanova, blinking.
"Aware," said Aparn. "That means, did they know?"
"I know what the word means, you not need tell me that," said
Ivanova. "I don't know."
"Well, were other partners ever in the kitchen?"
"Yes."
"Sometimes when you were talking to my client?"
"Maybe."
"So they probably overheard, at times."
"Is possible."
"So the partners were aware of your pattern of harassment, and
did nothing about it. Thank you, Ms. Mastikova."
Fox immediately stood up. "Ms. Mastikova, whose opinions were
you expressing?"
"Mine."
"Did the firm ever stop anyone from trying to express their
opinions?"
"No."
"Thank you, Ms. Mastikova."
At the plaintiff's table, Jane whispered to Aparn. "That was
it?" she hissed.
"A minor hitter, I grant you," said Aparn. But just wait
until the next witness."
"Oliver Kirch Junior," said Kirch, glaring at the court with
his huge bug eyes. "I'm a corporate partner at Tolcott,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
"Do you recall working with my client?" Aparn asked. This was
a cynical jab at all the "I don't recall" responses she'd been
receiving earlier from other Tolcott Teitelbaum witnesses.
"I do," said Kirch.
"Do you recall an assignment where Ms. Sommers and Mr. Talman,
a fellow associate, were performing a due diligence assignment for
you?"
"Yes," said Kirch.
"What were they doing?"
"They were reviewing a number of documents related to an
acquisition."
"A large number?"
"Yes."
"Did you learn on a particular Friday that such a transaction
had been canceled?"
"Yes," said Kirch, knowing where this was leading.
"Did you inform the associates working for you of this?"
"Yes," said Kirch.
Aparn frowned. "Mr. Kirch, please remember that you are under
oath. Did you inform both Mr. Talman and my client that the
project had been terminated?"
"Well... I told Talman, right outside Jane's office. I knew
that either she would hear about it, or that Talman would tell
her."
"Oh, so you knew these things. Are you certain that she
overheard you?"
"Well... no," said Kirch.
"Did you instruct Mr. Talman to tell Ms. Sommers?"
"No, but I just naturally assumed-"
"-that once you informed the male associate, that your job was
done. Thank you, Mr. Kirch."
He just glared at her, open-mouthed, but said nothing.
Aparn bit on the rim of her glasses for a moment, and then
said, "I'd like to move on to another assignment. You sent my
client on to another due diligence assignment in North Dakota, did
you not?"
Kirch nodded.
"And there was a dispute over which sort of documents she was
to review, was there not?"
"No," said Kirch. "She neglected to review one category of
documents I instructed her to."
"That's in dispute," said Aparn. "I have here a deposition
from my client stating that you never asked her to look at the
lease documents-"
"That's a lie!" said Kirch, glaring at her with his giant
eyes.
"On the other hand, maybe you're telling the truth, and my
client purposely disregarded a category of documents, because she
looked forward being sent back to North Dakota. That is where you
sent her back to, isn't it?"
Jane grimaced as she remembered that second trip back to North
Dakota. Making the long trip there once had been bad enough.
"The diligence work had to be finished," said Kirch.
"Mr. Kirch, how many boxes did the lease documents fill?"
Kirch mumbled something.
"Mr. Kirch?"
"I don't know," he said.
"Two, Mr. Kirch. You could have had them shipped to the firm
by overnight mail. Instead you subjected my client to 24 hours
roundtrip on a plane for four hours of diligence that could have
easily been done at the firm."
"I didn't know how many documents they were," Kirch mumbled.
"Nor did you care," said Aparn. "Not when it came to my
client, at least. If it had been Mr. Talman, perhaps you would
have inquired."
"Objection! Speculation," said Fox.
"Sustained."
"Withdrawn," said Aparn. She cleared her throat. "Mr. Kirch,
did you ever refer to my client as a little girl, an arrogant
bitch, or a skirt?"
"No," said Kirch.
"No?" said Aparn. "Did you not have a dispute with my client
after the last time she went to take minutes with you?"
"A dispute, yes. She was late for the meeting-"
"Because you neglected to tell her that the date had been
changed-"
"It was published in the materials," said Kirch defensively.
"She should have known."
"But you weren't going to mention it to her," said Aparn.
"Now, are you sure that you never called my client any of these
names?"
"I don't recall."
"Ah, now you don't recall," said Aparn. "That's a response
we're well accustomed to. Tell me, Mr. Kirch, when you took my
client along with you to take minutes for the Reid Corporation, did
you explain to her what was going on?"
"Well... she had those memos explaining the agenda-"
"Were those memos complete and full? Or were they merely
summarizes of very complex issues, that one could not understand
without prior context?"
"Well... she should have been able to figure it all out."
"Really?" said Aparn, cocking an eyebrow. "Your Honor, I'd
like to excuse this witness, for the moment, and call Doctor Roger
Corby to the stand."
The Tolcott Teitelbaum partners looked at each other with
worried glances. Jane also steeled herself. For coming to the
witness stand was none other than... Doctor Drool.
"State your name and credentials for the record," said Aparn.
"My name is Roger Corby," said Doctor Drool. A stream of
saliva erupted from his mouth, landing onto the floor of the
witness stand. Judge Keiko, noticing the stream, looked alarmed.
"I hold a doctorate in economics and I'm a member of the board of
directors of-"
"Hold it!" said Judge Keiko, watching the saliva flow at an
alarming rate. "Stop that! This is a public building, and I will
not permit you to deface-"
Jane covered her face in her hands, so she only heard rather
than heard what happened next.
"Your honor!" said Aparn. "It's not under his control. It's
a physical problem-"
"Oh," said Keiko quickly. He turned to Drool. "Sorry."
Drool, looking mortified, nodded.
"Just try and... deposit it all in one spot," said Keiko.
Drool nodded again.
"You may continue, Counsel."
"Thank you, your honor," said Aparn. "Now, Doctor Corby, are
you familiar with the memos that come with each meeting of the
board of directors?"
"Yes," said Drool.
"Could a person with no experience in your field, coming fresh
to a meeting for the first or second time, understand solely from
the memos and the ensuing discussion what was going on?" Aparn
asked.
"Well... they would understand a certain amount, sure," said
Drool. Saliva continued to slop down over his lips.
"But would there be an amount that would not be understood?"
"Sure," said Drool.
"A significant amount?"
Drool glanced at the partners of Tolcott Teitelbaum. He had
no desire to torpedo them, but at the same time he didn't want to
shade the truth too far. "At times," he conceded.
"Thank you, Doctor Corby," said Aparn. "If opposing counsel
has no other questions, I'd like to recall Mr. Kirch now."
Fox shook his head, and Drool left the witness stand.
However, when Kirch entered the witness box he looked down with
distaste and said, "There's a puddle down here."
Keiko looked down, raising an eyebrow. "Try to sit around it.
Bailiff! Get some paper towels!"
Aparn resumed her questioning a few moments later.
"Mr. Kirch, I'm puzzled. We've just testimony from the
esteemed Doctor Korby to the effect that a new associate coming to
these meetings would need guidance from superiors. When you yelled
at my client for an infraction, did you take this into account?"
"I did guide her," said Kirch. "I tried to teach her."
"By yelling at her, with sexist and insulting language?"
"Listen," said Kirch, his expression hardening. "Nobody ever
said that being a lawyer was easy. Why, in my day-"
"Women weren't even lawyers," said Aparn.
"Uh..." Kirch was caught off guard. "In my day it was even
tougher."
"And you were just repaying the favor to my client," said
Aparn. "Thank you, Mr. Kirch."
Fox stood up. "Mr. Kirch, how would you categorize Ms.
Sommer's performance at taking the corporate minutes in question?"
"Poor."
"Did you try to instruct her how to improve herself?"
"Frequently."
"Thank you, Mister Kirch."
Keiko banged his gavel. "We'll call it a day for now.
Bailiff, make sure the janitorial staff does a thorough job on the
floors by tomorrow morning. Good evening, everyone."
Aparn spoke to Jane on the phone that night. "We may need to
call you to the stand, Jane."
"Isn't that risky?"
"It will almost certainly open you up to a lot of undesirable
attacks," Aparn admitted. "But we may have no alternative."
"Things are going that badly?"
"Not badly," said Aparn. "But not all that well either.
Every time we make a concrete point, they try to counter it. It's
boiling down to your word against all of theirs, something I think
I warned you about before all of this got started. We need to
score a touchdown at some point. The next few witness are the
crucial ones, and if we don't make significant progress with them,
we may have to put you on the stand. Are you prepared for it?"
Jane took a deep breath. "I can handle it."
"Good."
The next day Jane's old buddy was called to the stand, none
other than Tim Talman. There was little love lost between the two,
and in court they did not even deign to exchange cold glances.
"Mister Talman," said Aparn. She pronounced his name with a
flare, emphasizing the first syllable to make it sound like
TALLman. Jane had been helpful in instructing Aparn as to Talman's
achilles's heel.
Talman squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, trying his best to
sit up straight.
"You were Ms. Sommer's roommate for her entire first year at
Tolcott Teitelbaum, is that correct?"
"Yes," said Talman.
"So you spent a considerable amount of time in her presence."
Without waiting for an answer, Aparn continued. "Now, at a lunch
with my client and Sam Bertow, another associate, do you recall
making a statement that the women who got ahead at the firm were
the ones who slept around, particularly with Mr. Tolcott?"
"No," said Talman.
"No what?" said Aparn.
"No, I don't recall," said Talman.
"A pity. Perhaps when we call Mr. Bertow to the stand he will
have a better recollection of your comments," said Aparn dryly.
"For my client certainly recalls your saying that."
Fox stood up. "Your Honor, counsel is badgering the witness.
He's already stated that he didn't recall."
"Let's move along, Ms. Aparn," said Keiko.
"Mr. Talman, did you ever do any proofreading work at the
firm, in amounts, say, greater than a page?" Aparn asked.
Talman considered for a moment. "Not... that I recall."
"Then let's go with your recollection. My client, at the time
a fellow first year associate in your department, did large amounts
of proofreading. What were the nature of your assignments?"
Talman stuck out his chest. "Drafting documents, negotiating
with clients, doing deals."
"So you were drafting documents, negotiating with clients, and
doing deals, while my client was shelving books. Hm," said Aparn.
"Do you have any idea why the proofreading assignments were so
skewered towards her?"
"I do," said Talman, raising his chin. "The better
assignments went to the better lawyer."
"That's one explanation," said Aparn, looking unfazed. "But
let's look at another. Tell me, Mr. Talman, where were you
educated?"
"Educated?" said Talman, starting to look nervous. Suddenly
there was a small rumbling sound from the witness stand. Judge
Keiko, who had been wearing a neutral expression, suddenly made a
face. "You mean..."
"Where did you go to college?"
"The University of Rochester," said Talman, audibly making a
burping sound now.
"And law school?"
Talman looked around, wetting his lips nervously. "The New
Law School." And then he released a big one.
Someone laughed in the audience.
Judge Keiko, putting his arm in front of his nose for a
moment, looked as if he were about to say something, stopped, and
then whispered something to Talman in the witness chair. Talman,
immediately reddening, nodded and said, "I'll try, your honor."
Aparn, standing a discrete distance from the witness,
tactfully ignored this exchange, continuing her questioning as if
nothing had happened. "Where would you put this... New Law School
on a scale, compared to other law schools?"
"Your Honor, where is this going?" Fox wanted to know.
Aparn turned towards the bench, but made no move to approach
it. "Your Honor, normally I would not be pursuing this line of
questioning, but the witness has implicitly asserted that he is a
superior lawyer to my client. All I am trying to do is to explore
the validity of his assertion by going into such related background
matters as to his education."
"I'll allow it," said Keiko. "But let's not keep this witness
longer than we have to." He wrinkled his nose, perhaps a sign of
distaste at the slow pace of things.
"Mr. Talman?" said Aparn.
"The question?" said Talman, sweating profusely.
"Where would you put the New Law School? The top quartile?"
Talman shook his head.
"The second quartile?"
"No." His voice was a whisper.
"The third quartile?"
Talman paused. "Well...."
"In fact, has not the New Law School consistently been rated
in the bottom quartile of law schools, and been in persistent
danger over the last decade of losing its accreditation because of
charges that it graduates students who are unprepared and unfit for
the real world?"
"Um... I guess I remember reading something like that," said
Talman, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"And tell me, Mister Talman, what was your LSAT score, on a
scale of 10 to 48?"
Talman mumbled something.
"We didn't hear you, Mister Talman."
"29," Talman mumbled.
"Twenty nine!" Aparn thundered. "So, we have a proud graduate
of the New Law School who scored 29 on his LSAT's, compared to my
client who graduated from Columbia with a 44 on her LSAT's. Now,
Mr. Talman, you earlier made the assumption that you received
better work assignments because you were the better lawyer. Do you
still hold to that assertion?"
Talman looked like he was about to die of embarrassment.
"Well... well... I don't know...."
"Mr. Talman, that's the first statement you've said here today
that bears the mark of credibility," said Aparn.
"Now, you resented my client, didn't you?"
"No..." he said weakly.
"Did you not refer to her as the minutes girl?"
"That was just a joke...."
"Now, let us go back to the incident involving the due
diligence that you and my client performed. Mr. Kirch informed you
that the assignment had been terminated. Did you rush in to inform
my client, your officemate, of this?"
"No... I thought she heard us in the hallway."
"In fact you didn't even say one word about it, not one word
to her," said Aparn. "You didn't even say, 'I'm glad it's done',
or somesuch. Why not?"
"I don't know... I didn't think about it...."
"Was it because you resented my client?"
"No," said Talman.
"Mister Talman... do you... resent people who are taller than
you... especially women?"
Talman paused, getting red. "No."
"So you don't have a problem with your height?"
Fox jumped up. "Your Honor, where is this leading to?"
"If your honor will grant me a little latitude, all will
become clear," said Aparn.
Keiko nodded. "But this better lead somewhere quick,
Counsel."
"Mister Talman, how tall are you?"
There was a pregnant pause. Then he said, barely audibly,
"Five foot three inches."
"I see. And does your height bother you?"
"Not really," said Talman, looking grim.
"Not really," Aparn repeated. She paused, chewing on the rim
of her glasses. "Tell me, Mr. Talman, how tall are the heels on
your shoes?"
"Three inches."
"Three inches, those must be special shoes," said Aparn. "And
tell me, isn't it true that you often stand on your toes,
especially when you're around taller people?"
Talman flinched. "Maybe occasionally. It's just an
unconscious habit, it doesn't mean anything."
"An unconscious habit," said Aparn. "I'm done with this
witness. Thank you, Mr. Talman."
Fox stood up. "Just a quick question or two, Mr. Talman. You
were a graduate of the New Law School, correct?"
"Yes," he said again.
"Since its inception in 1979, has the school ever lost its
accreditation?"
"No," said Talman.
"Did you not graduate with high honors, as a Gilbert's
scholar?"
"Yes," said Talman.
"Thank you, Mr. Talman."
Talman left the stand.
"Your honor, I'd like to recall Mr. Kapnick to the stand for
a moment, if I may."
Fox looked alarmed. What was she up to? "We weren't informed
that Mr. Kapnick was going to be recalled."
"I just have one line of questioning to ask, a followup,
really," said Aparn. "Since he's already been exhaustively
examined once, the defense shouldn't object."
Keiko nodded, allowing it.
Kapnick, a surprised expression on his face, took the stand.
After he had been identified, Aparn said, "Mr. Kapnick, a moment
ago Mr. Fox, in an attempt to bolster the academic credentials of
Mr. Talman, stated that Mr. Talman was the recipient of the
Gilberts Award, which he termed to be a high honor. Would you, a
fellow New Law graduate, agree?"
"Well, it is something," said Kapnick guardedly.
"In fact, didn't you once tell my client in the presence of
Mr. Talman that, and I quote, 'only a diseased sea monkey would
have failed to get that award', and isn't it true that over three
quarters of New School graduates were in receipt of it?"
"Well... it's true that a lot of people get it," said Kapnick.
"The school created the award, to make students feel good about
themselves." Suddenly, realizing what he had just said, he added,
"I mean, it's still a real award."
"Thank you, Mr. Kapnick," said Aparn. "No further questions,
Your Honor."
After a short break for lunch the next witness to be called
was Doctor Howard Ridgeway, a clinical psychologist.
"Your Honor, another psychologist?" said Fox. "This trial is
turning into a meeting of the American Psychiatric Association!"
"These expert witnesses are needed in order to unravel the
complex psychoses of many of the witnesses," said Aparn
confidently. She turned to Doctor Ridgeway. "Doctor, tell me, are
you familiar with something called the vertically challenged
syndrome?"
There was a loud burping sound in the audience, and two people
seated on either side of Tim Talman got up and left.
"Yes, of course," said Ridgeway. "I pioneered the research on
that subject."
"Would you please explain the theory, please," said Aparn.
"Well, it's pretty simple," said Ridgeway. "It's a mental
state exhibited in people who are, well... short." He glanced at
Talman for a moment. "Most of the time this state of mind is
latent, but it tends to aggressively assert itself around taller
people."
"Interesting. How would it assert itself?"
"Well, a person afflicted with this sickness might try to
redress the inequality in several ways," said Ridgeway. "He might
try to remedy the situation by using artificial aids to give him
the appearance of tallness-"
"Such as high heels," said Aparn.
"Yes," Ridgeway said.
"And how would such a person react to those who are taller
than he was?"
"Well, naturally there might be some resentment on his part,"
said Ridgeway. "If they were coworkers, there could be some
friction-"
Fox stood up. "Your Honor, what does this psychobabble have
to do with anything?"
Aparn spoke before Keiko could. "You Honor, I am attempting
to show that the firm put my client in an office with an attorney
who suffered from a mental illness which caused him to act in a
hostile manner towards my client. By establishing this fact, I am
contributing to the fact pattern which demonstrates that the firm
of Tolcott Teitelbaum was bent on creating a work environment as
hostile for my client as it possibly could."
Keiko paused, considering this for a moment. Then he slowly
nodded. "Inventive, but I'll allow it."
"Thank you, Your Honor," said Aparn. She quickly finished her
line of questioning. After she was done Fox called Talman back to
the stand, and asked a series of blunt questions.
"Mr. Talman, are you resentful of the fact that you're short?"
"No," said Talman, looking as if he wished he could be
somewhere else.
"Are you resentful of the fact that Ms. Sommers is taller than
you?"
"Of course not," said Talman.
"Did you ever act negatively towards her as a result of a gap,
either in your heights or your respective educations?"
"No," said Talman.
"Thank you, Mr. Talman."
"We did well today, Jane," said Aparn, over the phone. "We
established several grounds for Talman's dislike for you, and cast
a little more light as to what was going on at your firm."
"Good," said Jane. "What happens next?
"Now that we've talked about the work harassment, we return to
the ticklish business of sex for favors, which will be the most
difficult thing to prove," said Aparn. "Getting back to this
business with Talman, though, I do have one question I'd like to
ask you."
"What?"
"You roomed with him for a year... how did you get used to the
smell?"
The next day Julia Kern took the stand. She looked very
nervous appearing on the stand, and frequently cast worried glances
at the partners, who were sitting deadfaced behind the defendants'
table.
"Your name and position, please?"
"Julia Kern. I'm a paralegal at Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing,
LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
Aparn got immediately to the point. "Ms. Kern, did you ever
tell my client she had to be friendly in order to get ahead?"
"Well, I might have said something like that, yes," said
Julia.
"What prompted you to say that?"
"She was always getting into fights with the other associates
and partners," said Julia.
"Fights? Hm. And what did you mean by being friendly?"
Julia stammered, at a loss for words. "You know... more
outgoing. At ease."
"And what did you mean by the statement that she should 'put
out a little' if she wanted to get ahead?"
There was a murmur in the courtroom. "Order! Order!" said
Keiko, slamming the gavel. Then silence was restored.
"Ms. Kern, we're waiting for your response."
Julia stammered, "I-I don't remember not saying that-"
"You don't remember NOT saying that?"
"I mean... I didn't say that... I mean, I don't remember
saying that," Julia said, speaking very quickly.
"This isn't multiple choice, Ms. Kern," said Aparn sternly.
"Which of your statements are we to believe?"
"I mean... I don't remember saying that, not precisely that,"
said Kern.
"Then what precisely did you say?" Aparn asked.
"I... I don't remember."
"But even though you don't remember what you said, you know it
wasn't that statement. Not exactly," said Aparn.
"Yes," said Kern.
Aparn cast a glance at the jury, who was frowning. Then she
turned to the defendant's table, where Teitelbaum was covering his
face in his hands.
"Ms. Kern, when you told my client to play along, and she
responded negatively, did you not say, 'I didn't really care for
it, but now, I've even come to like it, it's just like being
friends?"
"I don't recall saying that!" said Julia, reddening.
Aparn took note of that. "But you don't deny it either. No
need to blush over something you never said, Ms. Kern. Or did you?
Do you deny saying that?"
"Yes!"
"Do you deny asking my client to have sex with the partners?"
"Yes!"
"Do you deny being asked by the partners to recruit Ms.
Sommers for such a purpose?"
"Yes!" Julia was close to the breaking point. "Yes, yes,
yes!" She started to weep silently.
Fox stood up. "Your honor, I think we need a break for-"
"If Ms. Kern needs a break, we'll be happy to grant it," said
Aparn.
"Ms. Kern?" said Keiko.
Julia stopped sniffling. "I can handle it."
"Good," said Aparn. "I have only one more matter to bring up,
Ms. Kern." She held up a sheet of paper. "Your Honor, I would
enter into the record Exhibit 32, the billable timesheets and
income statements of the paralegals at Tolcott Teitelbaum."
The partners exchanged glances with each other. What was
Aparn up to?
"Ms. Kern, you were one of three paralegals at Tolcott
Teitelbaum, correct?"
Kern nodded.
"The other two being male paralegals, is that correct?"
Fox opened his mouth as if he were about to objected, but
quickly stopped himself.
"Yes," said Julia.
"Ms. Kern, what were your billables last year at Tolcott
Teitelbaum?"
This time Fox did stand up. "Objection, Your Honor! What is
the relevance of Ms. Kern's billables? What possible bearing could
this have on a case of sexual harassment against the partners of
this firm?"
Keiko nodded. "I'm inclined to agree. Counsel, where is this
going?"
Aparn took a deep breath. "Your Honor, part of our case
hinges on a showing that sexual harassment was occurring at the
firm, including rapid advancement and favors for female staffers
who turned tricks for the partners-"
"I object to that phrase!" said Fox.
"Oh grow up, Counselor!" said Aparn. "Your Honor, I intend to
show a pattern of favoritism towards Ms. Kern that is not explained
by any work performance, a pattern of favoritism that logically
stems from sexual gratuities that we maintain that Ms. Kern awarded
to the partners."
"Your Honor, this is just a fishing expedition," Fox implored.
Keiko frowned. He didn't like the idea of tearing this young
woman apart. After all she wasn't a principal to the case. At the
same time, however, if Aparn could prove what she was saying...
"I'll allow it," he said.
"Your Honor-"
"Sit down, Mr. Fox," said Keiko mildly. Fox, in midsentence,
did just that.
"Ms. Kern, is it correct that your billables last year were
1600 hours?"
Kern squirmed uncomfortably. "That sounds about right."
"I have records here showing that the billables for the other
two male paralegals were 2000 and 2100 hours, respectively." Aparn
looked at Kern, but she was giving no reply. "Tell me, Ms. Kern,
why did they work so many more hours than you?"
"They wanted overtime work, they got it," said Julia, with a
shrug.
"Yes, well, that may make some sense," said Aparn. "But if
that's the case, then how come you get paid more than they do?
According to these records, you make $32,000 a year, while the
paralegal with the largest billables, Craig Farjo, makes only
$25,000."
Julia seemed at a loss for words.
"We're waiting for an answer, Ms. Kern."
Julia scratched her head. "Well, I do have seniority over
Farjo."
But Aparn was prepared for this evasion. "You have one year
seniority over him, is that correct?"
"Yes," she said, in a small voice.
"Is that what accounts for the fact that you make $7,000 more
than he does, despite the fact that he worked approximately one
third longer hours than you did?"
Julia bit her lip, deciding what to say. After a short pause,
Aparn turned to the Judge. "Your Honor, please instruct the
witness to answer the question."
Keiko turned obligingly to Kern. "Ms. Kern, please answer the
question."
"Um... what was the question?"
Aparn was patient. "Why does the firm pay you more to do less
work than the other paralegals?"
"I don't know, you'd have to ask them," Julia responded. "We
each make our own deal. Bart-" She stopped, in midsentence.
"Yes? You were referring to Mr. Tolcott? Please continue,
Ms. Kern?" said Aparn pleasantly.
"Well, I struck my own deal with B- with Mr. Tolcott," said
Julia carefully, choosing each word.
"Your own deal," said Aparn. "What kind of deal was that?
Tell me, Ms. Kern, are you friends with Mr. Tolcott?"
"I'm friends with a lot of people," said Julia.
"I'm sure," said Aparn dryly. "But I was asking about Mr.
Tolcott."
"Yes," said Julia.
"How friendly? Very friendly?"
"Fairly friendly," said Julia guardedly. "He is a... friend."
"I see. Did you ever sleep with your friend?"
"Objection! The witness has already answered that question,"
said Fox.
"Sustained," said Keiko. "Counsel, move on."
"Ms. Kern, can you think of any reason why Mr. Tolcott why
might have paid you more than the other associates, even though you
do much less work?"
"I... I do higher quality work," said Julia. "Yes, that must
be it."
"Yes, that must be it," Aparn repeated, but with a noticeable
lack of enthusiasm. She noticed by their expressions that the
members of the jury were not buying it either. "Thank you, Ms.
Kern. That is all."
"Was it necessary to tear Julia apart like that?" Jane asked.
"It's necessary to establish what's been going on at this
firm," said Aparn. "What's wrong, Jane, are you losing your
backbone to go on with this?"
Jane shook her head. "It's just that Julia was never directly
one of my chief antagonists. I bear her no ill will."
"Except for the time she tried to impress you into
prostitution for the partners," said Aparn.
"Well... all right, I didn't like that very much," said Jane.
"But was this really effective?"
"You tell me," said Aparn. "Fox wants to see us in the
conference room."
Fox was sitting in the room with Mr. Teitelbaum and Mr.
Teitelbaum, both of whom were looking very grim face.
"Counselor, what can we do for you?" said Aparn.
"That was an interesting show you put on there," said Fox.
"But don't think you've won yet."
"So?"
"$120,000, no admission of wrongdoing," said Fox. "And I
think you'll find that will be our final offer."
"A pity," said Aparn, before Jane could open her mouth.
$120,000! That was double the amount they had previously offered
just a week earlier!
"If you're holding out for more, you won't get it," Fox
warned.
"Don't be too sure," said Aparn. "I've only begun to document
some of the indiscretions that have occurred-"
"Listen honey," said Teitelbaum, speaking for the first time.
"Just because Romeo here," he indicated Mr. Tolcott, with a hook of
his thumb, "drops his pants at every turn, that doesn't mean you're
going to-"
"Shut up!" Bart snapped. "At least it wasn't me who did that
LEXIS rep, or that janitor lady across the street-"
"Shut up both of you!" Fox thundered. He turned to Aparn.
"What do you have to say?"
"All I can say is that it's a pity that information received
in this conference is not admissible in court," said Aparn tartly.
"Is that all you have to say?" Fox thundered.
"No," said Aparn, leading Jane to the door. "After this case
is over, I'll track down the janitor lady, and represent her on a
pro bono basis. Thanks for the tip."
That evening Jane spoke to her parents on the phone.
"Jane, they offered you $120,000," said her parents. "That's
more than one year's salary! It's like being paid not to work for
a year."
Jane had an instant flashback to her time at Tolcott
Teitelbaum, shelving books and delivering packages. "I've already
been paid for not working for a year," she said quietly. "I think
I can get much more."
"Are you sure, Jane, are you really sure?" said her mother.
"Listen, is there anyone you can talk to about this, to seek other
advice? What about one of your law professors, maybe a men-tor-"
"I'm not settling now," said Jane. "More importantly, a
settlement would not come with an admission of guilt. That's what
I want."
There was a pause. Then her father spoke. "Jane, I had to
admit that I was surprised to hear about the kind of abuse you were
taking at the firm. Was it really that bad?"
"Dad, what planet have you been on!" Jane yelled. "It was ten
times worse! I wasn't treated as a lawyer, I was treated as a
slave, and everyone, down to the lowliest library staffer, felt
they had unlimited license to abuse me!"
"Take it easy, Jane," said her mother. "We didn't understand
what was going on there."
"Mom," said Jane wearily. "I know."
"My name is Amanda Warwick, and I'm a partner at Tolcott,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch." Warwick sat on the
stand, looking stonefaced. She had been made partner shortly
before the trial had began. While it had been unusual to promote
a 10th year associate, who had already been passed up for partner
three times, Jane suspected that Warwick had been promoted so that
the firm could say that it had women partners, albeit only one.
"Ms. Warwick," said Aparn. "Have you ever slept with Mr.
Tolcott?"
"Your Honor," said Fox, jumping up. "This is an intimidating
tactic, asking the same hostile question of each witness."
"Only when it's relevant," said Aparn.
Keiko sighed. He didn't like the abrupt sort of questioning
either. On the other hand the discretion he had permitted her with
Julia Kern had produced convincing testimony. Keiko knew he was
supposed to be impartial, but the more he heard about this firm,
the more he thought that everyone was guilty ten times over and he
was surprised every time he learned about a different sort of
suffering that Jane had endured. Keiko was only surprised that
Aparn wasn't also suing on the grounds of intentional infliction of
emotional distress.
"I'll allow it," said Keiko. "Just make sure that we cover
this ground quickly, Counsel."
Aparn nodded, then turned back to her witness. "Now Ms.
Warwick, have you ever had sex with Mr. Tolcott? Or don't you
recall?"
"I recall," said Warwick. "The answer is no."
"You didn't go to his office and undress yourself?"
"No."
"You didn't sit nude on a pile of legal texts while Mr.
Tolcott tended to you?"
"You didn't allow yourself to be tied to a desk while Mr.
Tolcott lashed your nude form-"
"Your Honor, this is too much!" said Fox.
"Your Honor, I have a deposition from my client saying that
she witnessed these specific acts," said Aparn, waving the document
in her hand. "I just want to confirm or deny the accuracy of these
statements."
Keiko sighed. "She's already said she didn't sleep with him
or take off her clothes for him. It's safe to assume that she
would also deny being tied down to his desk and whipped-"
"But your honor, I need a direct answer for the record," said
Aparn.
"No, the answer is no!" Warwick snapped, folding her arms.
"The answer is no," Aparn repeated. "Ms. Warwick, I am aware
that you are the only woman partner at your firm, and a recent
addition to the partnership ranks at that. You must do excellent
work."
Warwick nodded.
"Tell me, how friendly are you with Mr. Tolcott?"
Warwick shrugged. "He's a good friend."
"A good friend," Aparn repeated. That was one of her favorite
tactics, to hollowly repeat a phrase she found unconvincing. "Ms.
Warwick, at the firm outing did you permit your good friend to
squeeze one of your breasts and go 'honk-honk'?"
"Well...." Suddenly, she was at a loss for words.
"Ms. Warwick?"
"Yes, but he was just joking," she said, reddening hastily.
"Oh, so it didn't bother you? You welcomed it?" said Aparn,
eyebrows raised.
"No, it didn't bother me," said Aparn, answering only the
first question.
"Your Honor, may I approach the witness?" said Aparn.
Keiko nodded, curious as to what would happen next.
"Since it doesn't bother you, may I also shave your permission
to squeeze you and go honk honk, Ms. Warwick?" said Aparn.
"No!" she said, quickly reddening.
Aparn took a step back, and faced the jury. "So it is evident
that you only welcome such attention from certain individuals. Who
else would be welcome to do such a thing, Ms. Warwick? Besides, of
course, your husband."
There were some gasps in the audience.
"No one," Warwick snapped.
"So only Mr. Tolcott is permitted, I see."
"No, he's not permitted, it just happened once, it wasn't a
big deal," said Warwick.
"I see," said Aparn. "It's not out of the ordinary for Mr.
Tolcott to approach you in that way." She didn't wait for a
response. "Now that we've established your relationship with the
other partners, let's move on to your relationship with my client.
Is it not the case that you once spent several hours instructing my
client in how to prepare a simple memo to your fileroom?"
"Yes," said Warwick. "She proved incapable of even performing
such a simple task."
"Really?" said Aparn. "Let's look a little more into it."
She turned to Keiko. "Your Honor, I would like to enter exhibit
38, the actual memo to the files in question, complete with
supplementary materials." Aparn turned back to Warwick. "Now, Ms.
Warwick, I am fortunate enough to have with me a copy of a draft
with your comments on them. Would you look at them and assure me
that these are your comments?"
Warwick took the paper, scanned it for a moment. "Yes."
"And would you read the first four comments on the page?"
Warwick, reluctantly, read them in a deadpan voice. "Make
left margin wider. Use a, not the. Use past tense has, not is.
Why does this paragraph have only one sentence?"
"Now, why were you concerned with such small secretarial
matters? This memo was not going to a client, was it?"
Warwick was not going to be intimidated like some amateur
paralegal. "No, but at Tolcott Teitelbaum we do quality work in
whatever we do."
"Quality work, eh?" said Aparn. "So you hold everyone to the
same standard, including yourself."
"Yes, of course," said Warwick.
"Your Honor, I would like to enter into the record the five
most recent legal memos that Ms. Warwick has drafted," said Aparn.
"Objection! Client confidentiality-"
"Has been protected, with all relevant names and facts blanked
out," said Aparn smoothly. She had anticipated this.
"Now, Ms. Aparn, I hold here five memos that you have written
in the past two years. How many paragraphs of only one sentence do
you think I found?"
Warwick shrugged. "I don't know."
"Seven. And how many instances of the present tense, and not
the past tense, do you think I found?"
"Again, I don't know."
"Twenty Seven."
"Your Honor, Ms. Warwick's legal memos are not the issue
here," said Fox.
"What is the issue is whether Ms. Warwick was treating my
client fairly," said Aparn. "Now, Ms. Warwick, why do we find in
your memos so many examples of the things that you condemned Ms.
Sommers for in her memo?"
Warwick shrugged. "No one's perfect. I was just trying to
help her improve her writing."
"And these were important elements to improve, especially for
such an important fileroom memo," said Aparn. "Your Honor, I'd
like to introduce my next exhibit, photocopies of Ms. Sommer's
memo." She handed them to Warwick.
"Do you recognize these?"
"Well... yes."
"These are photocopies of the final memo that Ms. Sommers
made. According to her deposition you screamed at her that the
copies were too light and slightly crooked. Your Honor, I request
permission to pass these photocopies of the fileroom memo to the
jury."
"Objection-"
"Denied," said Keiko. "Proceed, Counselor."
Aparn passed them over. There was silence as they were
passed, one by one, to members of the jury. A few of the members
of the jury just passed them along without particularly looking at
them, but a number other jurors paused, frowning as they stared at
the copies, wondering what could possibly be wrong with them. Fox
stared at the spectacle, resisting the impulse to bite his nails.
When Aparn had retrieved the copies, she turned back to
Warwick. "Now, Ms. Warwick, can you honestly say with a straight
face that anything was wrong with these copies?"
"Well, they were a little on the light side," said Warwick
faintly.
"Wasn't it part of your plan to abuse my client? Didn't the
partners, didn't your friend, Mr. Tolcott, give you orders to give
Ms. Sommers a difficult time, because she wouldn't play along?"
"No," said Warwick. "Everyone at the firm is treated the
same."
"Then it's a good thing that Mr. Tolcott never saw any of your
memos, or else he might have rejected them for being slightly
crooked during the photocopy process," said Aparn. "I'm done, Your
Honor."
Fox got up. "Ms. Warwick, was Ms. Sommer's work substandard?"
"Very. She had trouble even putting a simple memo like this
together," said Aparn.
"And what was her attitude?"
"Very combative."
"Thank you, Ms. Warwick."
Warwick started to stand up, but Aparn waved her down. "One
more followup question, Ms. Warwick. If someone made such piddling
comments like these on a routine memo would you become combative as
well?"
"Objection!"
"Question withdrawn," said Aparn, sitting down. She hadn't
really needed an answer.
"Tomorrow is the big day, Jane," said Aparn. "We've been
building some good momentum, and now we're going to hit the
jackpot."
"What do you mean?"
"Your friend Sam Bertow is going on the stand. He's going to
testify for us."
"Sam? Really! That's great!" Jane exclaimed. Sam would be
the first member of Tolcott Teitelbaum who would substantiate
everything she had been saying.
Wait a minute. Sam? "Are you sure?"
"He's told us that he's going to tell the truth," said Aparn.
"It's going to be quite a show. This means we won't have to put
you on the stand."
"Really?"
"Yes," Aparn chuckled. "And we won't settle for a million
dollars after this."
"Sam Bertow, associate at Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing,
LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch," he said calmly, sitting on the witness
stand. Jane tried to make eye contact but he averted her glance.
After some preliminaries they quickly got down into specifics.
"At a lunch with Mr. Talman and my client, do you recall Mr. Talman
stating that women had to 'put out' in order to get ahead?"
This was it. This was the testimony that would crack the case
wide open. Once Bertow substantiated Jane's story, the trial would
be essentially over. Game set, and match.
"Um... I don't quite remember that," he said hastily.
Aparn, looking alarmed, tried not to show it.
"What do you remember?"
"Well, we might have spoken in general how tough it was for a
woman to get ahead in the corporate world, or something like that,"
said Bertow quickly.
"Do you remember another comment by Mr. Kapnick where he
stated that female associates needed to sleep with Mr. Tolcott in
order to get ahead at the firm?"
Bertow took a deep breath. "I may recall something to the
effect that one needed to stay in his good graces to get ahead,
yes."
"Good graces? You mean sex."
"Um, I don't recall that," said Bertow.
Fox, who at first had been preparing to cringe, now broke out
in a broad smile, echoed by the partners sitting next to each
other, who elbowed each other, grinning.
Aparn turned to the Judge. "Your Honor, I request permission
to treat Mr. Bertow as a hostile witness."
"Granted," said Keiko, who was starting to wonder what was
going on here.
"Mr. Bertow, did you ever see any examples of sexual
improprieties at the firm?"
"See? No."
"Did you ever hear of any?"
"Not really," said Bertow. "Nothing specific, anyway."
"Did you ever see my client mistreated?"
"Mistreated? That's a matter of interpretation."
Aparn licked her lips. Each question was getting her deeper
and deeper into a hole. "I'm done, Your Honor," she said, beating
a hasty retreat.
"I'm not," said Fox, quickly getting up. "Mr. Bertow, you're
more than just another associate at Tolcott Teitelbaum, you're
Jane's friend. Is that not correct?"
"Yes," said Bertow.
Aparn opened her mouth to object, but could think of nothing
to say.
Fox, surprisingly, turned to Aparn. "What, Ms. Aparn, were
you about to object to that assertion? Why, then let's follow up
on it. Mr. Bertow, did Ms. Sommers come to your office to talk to
you, in a friendly way?"
"Yes."
"Numerous times?"
"Yes."
"Then it sounds like you were friends to me," said Fox,
relishing every minute of this. "And now, as her friend, but also
as a witness, under oath, what do you make of her story of
harassment?"
Bertow twisted uncomfortably in the witness stand. "I saw at
times that she wasn't treated well. But, you know, it takes two to
start an argument. Sometimes it wasn't warranted, but sometimes
she brought it on herself."
"Brought it on herself, how?"
"With her belligerent attitude," said Bertow. "I tried to
talk to her about it, to identify how she was contributing to the
problem, but she just wouldn't listen...."
Fifteen minutes later they breaked for lunch.
"We're ruined! Ruined!" Jane cried, once they had reached the
privacy of a conference room. She started sobbing uncontrollably.
"Jane!" said Aparn. She shook her client. "Jane! Get a grip
on yourself!"
"That bastard, I knew he would betray me!" she yelled.
"Calm yourself!" said Aparn. "Take deep, easy breaths. Yes,
that's it, that's it. Now, count from ten, backwards. Slowly."
A moment passed, and slowly Jane returned to her former self.
"Yes, better?" said Aparn. "Now-"
"Hope I'm not interrupting." It was Fox, and he didn't even
attempt to hide the gleeful smile on his face.
"I thought we heard your final offer," said Aparn.
"I have another," said Fox. "Are you willing to hear me
out... or are you too busy thinking about what you're going to do
with your great, big award?"
Jane started to speak but Aparn cut him off. "What do you
want?"
"A new offer. $10,000. I suggest you take it."
Ten thousand dollars! What had happened to the offer of
$120,000, just days earlier? Jane felt like crying again.
"Really? What makes you think we'll accept such a paltry
sum?"
"You have no chance of prevailing now," said Fox. "I think
even you can see that."
"We haven't called LaGossi to the stand yet."
"It will be his word against hers, and the partners are going
to back LaGossi." He snickered. "Perhaps we'll even get Sam
Bertow to testify on LaGossi's behalf."
"All right, we've heard you out. Now take your offer and get
out of here."
Fox moved towards the door. "All right, but this is a take it
or leave it offer. Once I step out of this door you'll have to
make do with zero, zip."
"Make sure to close the door behind you," said Aparn coolly.
When Fox had left Jane turned to Aparn. "Is he right? Is it
all over?"
"No, Jane," said Aparn. "We've suffered a major setback, but
it's not over yet."
"It's over," said Jane dully.
"No, it's not," said Aparn. "Why do you think he was offering
even $10,000? Do you think Teitelbaum was putting it forward out
of the kindness of his heart, to spare you any further suffering?"
Jane didn't respond.
"It means that even after this they still think there is a
chance you can win," said Aparn. "There's still a chance... if we
put you on the stand."
Jane looked startled.
"Are you prepared for it? Think twice before you answer.
They're going to attack you with everything under the sun. It's
going to be tough, Jane, but you've got to be tougher. Can you do
it?"
Jane considered for a moment. Part of her just wanted to drop
the entire case. To force herself through the entire process, and
then to see the firm actually acquitted... that would be too much
for her to bear.
At the same time she remembered seeing the smirking partners
as Bertow testified. It brought back memories of all the
harassment and humiliations she had endured, of delivering packages
and shelving books, of being yelled at and treated like little more
than a servant.
A new hard gleam formed in her eyes. "I can do it."
"You can do it, Jane. But do you have the endurance? Do you
have the toughness?"
"Let's do it," said Jane simply.
Only it wasn't that simple. Aparn didn't want Jane to testify
immediately. She wanted Jane to take a walk outside and unwind a
bit. "Just relax, don't think about the case. We've prepared a
million times for this contingency, so you're more than prepared.
I'll speak to Judge Keiko about the delay. Our side has never
requested one before so I'm sure he'll comply. Now I'll want to
see you back here in one hour's time. Ok, Jane?"
"Ok," said Jane. She looked for her jacket, and headed for
the exit.
The case was being tried in one of the buildings housing the
lower Manhattan court system, downtown by City Hall.
Jane walked around outside, strolling by a small park. She
had to clear her head, to get ready for the grilling that was to
come. Fox would have a field day with her.
Jane sighed, walking towards a park bench. Her eyes weren't
focusing, so she almost didn't notice who was sitting there until
she was almost on top of him.
"Jane!" he said.
It was Sam Bertow. He was just sitting there, looking at her.
"Come, join me, sit down," he said, gesturing for her to sit by
him.
"You really have some nerve," said Jane, continuing to stand.
She spoke through gritted teeth; she hadn't even contemplated how
his betrayal had affected her personal feelings for him. Until
now.
"Jane, I had to do it," he said.
"Why!" she yelled. "WHY!"
A flock of pigeons suddenly took aflight.
"Did you fear they would fire you if you told the truth?" Jane
asked.
"No," said Bertow. "That didn't effect my decisionmaking."
He paused. "Remember when I once told you that it took two sides
to start an argument?"
"Don't start that again," Jane warned.
"Jane, they treated you badly, but you can't pretend that
their actions were independent of yours," said Bertow. "Each party
always bears some responsibility for an argument. If I had
testified against them, I would have been doing them a disservice."
"So instead you did me a disservice," said Jane. "Swell."
"No, I told them that they treated you badly."
"Without giving any specifics. Instead you focused on my so
called belligerent attitude. You gave Fox a field day." Murder
flared in her eyes.
"Jane, I was just doing what I thought was right."
"Because of you they're probably going to get off scot free,"
said Jane. She took a step forward
"Jane... everyone has to do what they think is right...."
"You're so right," said Jane, balling her fists and quaking
with anger. "Why didn't I take your advice sooner?"
Jane returned just in time for the coming session of the
trial. Aparn looked up at Jane, noticing the bounce in her step.
"Well, it looks like you got the trauma of the morning out of your
system."
"Um hum," said Jane.
They watched the participants and spectators enter the
courtroom.
"There," said Aparn, pointing to Sam Bertow. "Look at that
black eye he's sporting! How did he get that?"
"Couldn't imagine," said Jane.
"Order!" said Keiko, banging the gavel. "Let us resume."
"Jane Sommers, former associate at Tolcott, Teitelbaum,
Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch," said Jane. Her face was
without emotion. Aparn was doing the questioning now. This would
be the easy part, relatively speaking.
"Ms. Sommers, was Sam Bertow a friend of yours?" This was the
first question. An attempt at damage control.
"I have many friends, but none of them at Tolcott Teitelbaum,"
said Jane. "I did occasionally talk to Mr. Bertow to try to get an
understanding of how the firm culture was worked, but I would
hardly call him a friend." She had to resist an impulse to smile
as she matched eyes with his. One of his was now black and blue.
"We've had a lot of discussion over the past week of the way
you've been treated at the firm," said Aparn. "Although I've
referred to your depositions, I'd like to go back and review some
highlights. Tell us typical sorts of assignments you were given.
"Shelving books, delivering packages, large scale
proofreading, writing minutes-" and Jane elaborated, going into
detail. She recounted the story of her two trips to North Dakota.
She told how her secretary mistreated her and when she complained
how it was she, Jane, who was reprimanded. She also related what
kinds of assignments the other junior associates were getting while
she was relegated to the scutwork.
Then the conversation turned to more delicate matters. Jane,
in brief, recounted how she had seen both Amanda Warwick and Heidi
Blakelock in a horizontal mode with Mr. Tolcott. She also related
how Kapnick, Talman, Kern and others had told her that she needed
to sleep with the partners in order to get ahead.
When she was done she could tell that she had the jury's full
attention; Jane knew they had heard it all before, in bits and
pieces, but it was one thing to hear all of this second hand, and
another to hear it firsthand, with emotion, from the victim.
"And you were promised litigation when you got there, and told
the firm did a lot of first amendment and landlord tenant work when
you got there," said Aparn. "Is that correct?"
"Yes. I was put into the corporate department and found out,
some weeks later, that the firm did no pro bono work," said Jane.
Aparn took a deep breath. It was now time to touch on the
most crucial matter in this case, the one that everyone had danced
around but not directly addressed. The attempted rape.
"Your last assignment with the firm... it was with Mr.
LaGossi, correct?"
Jane nodded.
"What did he have you do?"
"He had me research certain acts... to determine if they were
obscene."
"Which acts? Could you list them?"
Jane did.
Several members of the jury blushed. Others looked away.
"And this research... was it billable to a client?"
"I was never told a billable number for it," said Jane.
"Do you believe it was a real assignment?"
"No," said Jane. "I believe it was part of an attempt to
humiliate me."
"What did you do?"
"I completed the assignment, and made my report."
"What was Mr. LaGossi's reaction?"
Jane told her, her voice starting to choke. "...and then I
got away from him, and ran out the door."
"What happened after that?"
"I'm not sure. The next thing I remember is that I was in my
office, and everyone was looking at me. I told Bart... Mr. Tolcott
what had happened."
"What did he do?"
"He sent LaGossi home, and promised he would be fired."
"Was he?"
"Well, we had to wait because Mr. Teitelbaum was out of
office, ostensibly at Disneyworld. So Mr. Tolcott said."
"And what happened then?"
"I waited three days for Mr. Teitelbaum to return-"
Aparn interrupted. "Where was Mr. LaGossi during this time?"
"He was working out of the Queens office," said Jane.
"Go on."
"When Mr. Teitelbaum returned the partners stalled, and
stalled. Finally when I said I would go to the police unless they
took action they did, putting Mr. LaGossi on probation."
"And your reaction?"
"I quit, immediately. Sexual harassment is bad enough, but I
will not just sit by and be the victim of attempted rape," said
Jane. Her voice was trembling, but she was glad she had been able
to see her testimony through without once breaking down.
"Thank you, Ms. Sommers," said Aparn, sitting down.
It was Fox's turn now. Jane took a deep breath, preparing
herself for anything.
"Ms. Sommers," said Fox, standing up. "You continued working
at Tolcott Teitelbaum for three days after you were allegedly
raped, is that correct?"
"Yes, but there was no allegedly about it," said Jane.
"If you were raped, why did you not call the police?"
"I thought the firm was going to fire Mr. LaGossi. They had
promised," said Jane.
"I have depositions to the contrary," said Fox. "Tell me, Ms.
Sommers, isn't it true that you weren't raped?"
"What?"
"Isn't it true that Mr. LaGossi criticized your memo, you went
ballistic, and started yelling and losing control?"
"No! I was raped!"
"If you were raped, then how come you didn't tell your family,
your friends?" said Fox.
"I did," said Jane.
"The same day?" said Fox.
Jane thought back. "Well, no, when I got home, I was
exhausted, I collapsed and fell asleep."
"You fell asleep," said Fox. "So the experience was so
traumatic that you fell asleep."
"No, it wasn't like that-"
"Thank you, Ms. Sommers," said Fox. "Let's turn to other
matters. You claim that Mr. Tolcott was a virtual sex fiend,
sleeping with anything that wore a skirt."
Jane considered, then nodded. "Anything with a skirt in the
corporate department." But then she remembered that Heidi
Blakelock tended to wear pant suits....
"But what about you, Ms. Sommers? If Mr. Tolcott were such a
sex fiend, why did he never attack you?"
"I...."
"Did he ever touch you inappropriately?"
"No."
"Did he ever make inappropriate comments to you?"
"No."
"In fact, the only evidence of his conduct that you've
presented to us, through your depositions, are the fantasy scenes
you claim you observed through a window!"
"They weren't fantasy scenes?"
"Tell me, Ms. Sommers, when you observed these incidents, was
it during the day, or during the evening?"
"The evening, usually."
"And had you been working hard up until that point?"
"Yes," said Jane, not sure where this was leading to.
"So was it possible that you ever fell asleep during one of
your late night working sessions."
"It happened, once."
"Then how do you know that what you thought you saw was not
simply a dream! How do you know that you're not simply condemning
Mr. Tolcott based on fantasy!"
"It wasn't fantasy! It was real! Where do you think that
whip and handcuffs came from!" Jane flared.
That stopped Fox in his tracks.
"Ms. Sommers, do you have difficulty entering into
relationships?"
"No," said Jane hesitantly, knowing there was a trap ahead but
unsure as to what it was.
"I'd like to excuse the witness for the moment and present one
of my own."
Aparn opened her mouth to object but Fox was even quicker.
"Your Honor, we have no other witnesses of our own to present in
this case, and it would be easier if we could present this witness
now. If the plaintiff's counsel objects, we'll simply bring this
witness at the end, right before closing arguments." He cast a sly
glance at Aparn.
Aparn opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "No
objection, Your Honor."
"I'd like to call Maxwell Kennedy to the stand," said Fox.
Jane covered her face, and groaned slowly.
A young man in his mid 20's took the stand.
"Your name, for the record."
"Rexwell Kennedy."
"Mr. Kennedy, do you know Ms. Sommers."
"I did," said Kennedy slowly.
"Jane," said Aparn, whispering to her client. "What is this
all about?"
"In what context?"
"We dated, briefly."
"Briefly?"
"You honor, of what possible relevance can this testimony be?"
Fox turned to Keiko. "If I may be permitted the same
indulgence that the plaintiff has been permitted during the full
course of this trial, it will become obvious very quickly."
Keiko nodded. "I hope so, Counsel, because this had better
lead somewhere quick."
"Now, Mr. Kennedy, why was your dating experience with Ms.
Sommers so brief?"
"She was a cold fish. Sexless. Everyone knew that. Dating
her was like dating a stone rock," said Kennedy. "I think she had
a hangup about relationships."
"Thank you, Mr. Kennedy," said Fox. "That's very useful
information."
Aparn started to hesitantly get up. She had to cross examine
this witness, but she knew very little about him. But suddenly she
felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Jane.
"Your honor, I would like to cross-examine the witness," said
Jane.
"Objection!" said Fox.
"This is highly irregular," said Keiko.
"Nevertheless, I am a lawyer admitted to practice law in the
State of New York, and have more information regarding this witness
than my counsel does," said Jane, a determined gleam in her eye.
"Very well, Counsel," said Keiko.
"Your honor, I still object-"
"Then do it quietly, counsel," said Keiko, glaring at Fox.
Jane approached the witness box, with an expression on her
face that was hardly friendly. "Mr. Kennedy, you characterized me
as a stone rock. Aside from the fact that stone rock is a
oxymoronic phrase, what led you to that conclusion."
Kennedy shifted about nervously. He had hardly expected to be
cross-examined by Jane himself. "You were very stiff on our first
and only date. Unresponsive."
"Unresponsive? Such as when you put your hand up my dress
during the movie?"
Kennedy reddened. "Uh...."
"Or how about when you tried to take off my stockings when you
escorted me home?"
"Uh...."
"Did these things happen or did they not?"
"Well, I didn't force," said Kennedy. "And it was a date, you
know."
"I know. Thank you, Mr. Kennedy," said Jane. "Tell me, what
was your nickname in college?"
"Nickname?" said Kennedy, suddenly turning a shade of amber.
"Yes. You know, the name that people called you when they
weren't calling you Rexwell, or Rex," said Jane.
"Uh...."
"Judge, please instruct the witness to answer the question,"
said Jane, pleasantly.
"Please answer the question, Mr. Kennedy," said Keiko
obediently.
Kennedy looked at the Judge, then down at the floor. Then he
mumbled something.
"What was that, Mr. Kennedy? I don't think we heard that?"
Kennedy mumbled again.
"Speak up, Mr. Kennedy," said Keiko sternly.
"SexyRexy," said Kennedy.
"No further questions, your honor."
"That was brilliant, Jane," said Aparn, during a break. "A
bit risky to take up the reins on your own like that, but
brilliant."
"Thanks," said Jane. "I don't think SexyRexy's testimony will
be much of a problem."
Jane was called back to the stand and spent the rest of the
afternoon testifying under the most pressure Fox could bring to
bear.
"So let me get this straight," said Fox. "We've had testimony
from associates, partners, and staffers at Tolcott Teitelbaum, all
of whom say you were a troublesome associate who didn't try to get
along. Are we to believe that all of them are lying and that you
are telling the truth?"
"Not at all," said Jane.
Aparn turned a shade of purple.
"We're both telling the truth," said Jane. "Yes, it's true
that I did not try to get along, insofar as getting along meant
sleeping with the partners." She gave a small grin.
"So only the men got ahead in the firm, according to you,"
said Fox. "But what about the women? Heidi Warwick was just made
a partner."
"Yes, and she spent a lot of time in Mr. Tolcott's office,
presenting her credentials," said Jane.
Fox frowned. "Even if the women associates were playing up to
the partners, why would you also have so much trouble getting along
with them?"
"A good question," Jane admitted. "I think it was jealousy."
"Jealousy?"
"You've seen the picture of the firm outing, you've seen the
women wrapped around Bart," said Jane. "They were very possessive,
always in competition with each other. I guess they saw me as
potential competition, even though I wasn't positively inclined."
"If your incredible story is to be believed," said Fox. "But
let us turn again to your last three days at the firm. Why did you
resign?"
Suddenly, Jane got a deja vu flashback to an episode of "The
Prisoner". "Because I was raped."
"But why did you wait three days? Why not four days, or
longer?"
"I told you that they promised me that they were going to fire
Mr. LaGossi. When that didn't happen, I left."
"But if you were so victimized even before this incident, why
did you not resign weeks or even months earlier?" said Fox. "After
all, I would think that anyone who would stay and endure such
alleged abuse would either be a masochist... or someone with a very
vivid imagination."
"In my industry it's difficult to leave a job in less than two
years."
"But still-"
"The firm suckered me in based on false promises!" said Jane.
"They promised me I'd be managing trial cases, not shelving them!"
Fox bit his lip. He asked a few more questions, but his heart
wasn't really in it. And before she knew it, Jane was excused.
"Excellent work, Jane," said Aparn. "That went much better
than I hoped. You held up quite well."
"The only good thing I can say that came out of my experience
at Tolcott Teitelbaum is that it made me tough," said Jane simply.
"So does this mean that we're going to win?"
"No, it's still our word against theirs," said Aparn. "But
we're going to push it along as best as we can."
"My name is Bart Tolcott," said Bart, in his usually dull
monotone.
He was being called back to the stand, one last time.
"What happened on the day that Ms. Sommers handed in her memo
to Mr. LaGossi?" Aparn asked.
"The first I heard of it was when I heard Jane screaming in
the halls," said Tolcott dully. "We caught up to her in her
office, and she was nearly passed out."
"What happened then?"
"She came around, and claimed she had been raped," said
Tolcott. "I immediately went to talk to Fred LaGossi about it. He
said that he mildly criticized her memo, and that Jane just flipped
her top, running out of his office, screaming at the top of her
lungs."
Aparn's eyes narrowed. "What did you do then?"
"Well, obviously we had two very different stories. I
promised Jane that the issue would be brought up at the next
partner's meeting-"
"You did not promise her that Mr. LaGossi would be let go?"
"No," said Bart dully.
"Why did you not hold a partner's meeting immediately?"
"Bruce Teitelbaum was not available, and wouldn't be, not for
three days."
"Three days," said Aparn, looking at the jury. "And when the
partners met, what did they decide?"
"We decided they didn't work well together, and to separate
them. We sent Fred LaGossi to our Queens office-"
"Wait a minute, what about Jane's rape claim?"
Bart shrugged. "We had no way to substantiate it. Jane
hadn't suffered any physical harm, and we knew how prickly she
was."
"So you transferred LaGossi to the Queens office."
"Yes. Only Jane wouldn't accept that, and she quit-"
"Just a moment! If you didn't believe Jane's story, why did
you transfer Mr. LaGossi at all? In fact, why didn't you transfer
Jane to your Queens office?"
"Um...." Evidently that was a tough one for Bart. "Well, we
thought it best for everyone's sake to separate the two-"
"But it was Mr. LaGossi, the partner, that you sent away,
correct?"
"Well, the Queens office is actually his home-"
"Mr. Tolcott, if you believed Jane, you should have fired
LaGossi. If you believed LaGossi, you should have reprimanded or
even fired Jane. Which one was it?"
Bart's face looked strained. "It wasn't so clearcut. We knew
that they had a negative relationship, and this seemed to easiest
way to resolve the problem."
"A negative relationship," said Aparn. "Is that the phrase
for attempted rape at your firm? Question withdrawn," she said
hastily, seeing Fox start to stand up. "I have another line of
questioning. We have had testimony before us that you had to delay
having a meeting for three days because Mr. Teitelbaum was in
Disney World, is that correct?"
"Well... I may have misspoke," said Bart. "He was actually
working at home."
"Then why did you tell my client that he was in DisneyWorld?"
"I was misinformed," said Bart. "A communications error. He
was actually at DisneyWorld two weeks previously."
"And you still thought he was there, I see," said Aparn
sarcastically. "Or could it also be that you were stalling for
time, that you knew if you told Ms. Sommers that Mr. Teitelbaum was
close by that you would have had no choice but to immediately call
a partner's meeting?"
"No," said Bart.
"No? No, what?"
"No, that wasn't it," said Bart. "It was an honest
misunderstanding, that's all."
"Well, it was also a clever misunderstanding," said Aparn.
"Because my client is accused of sitting on her hands for three
days before reporting this crime. And you forced her to wait with
your stalling tactics!"
"Objection!"
"I'm done, your honor," said Aparn.
Fox stood up. "Mr. Tolcott, were you purposefully delaying
when you told Ms. Sommers that Mr. Teitelbaum was away at
Disneyworld?"
"No."
"When you convened your partner's meeting, did you have any
way to independently evaluate the claims of either Mr. LaGossi or
Ms. Sommers?"
"No."
"How long had you known Ms. Sommers?"
"A little over a year."
"How long had you known Mr. LaGossi?"
"About... 17 years."
"In all the time you had known him, had you ever suspected
that he might be capable of such an act?"
"No."
"Thank you, Mr. Tolcott."
Bart left the stand, looking emotionless.
"This is it, Jane."
Aparn sat over lunch with Jane in the courthouse cafeteria,
slowly spooning her soup.
Jane said nothing.
"We're almost done," said Aparn. "All that's left is the
testimony of LaGossi.
"Frederick Wilhelm LaGossi," said LaGossi, working to keep a
growl out of his voice. He glared at Aparn as he identified
himself. Obviously not a friendly witness. "I'm a partner at
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch."
Aparn was blunt. "What happened on the day that my client ran
screaming out of your office?"
"We were in the office, discussing a memo she had written. I
criticized some of the flaws in her memo. She started to break
down, so I told her not to get so upset. I reached out to put a
hand on her shoulder to steady her, and then all of a sudden she
jumped up, yelled rape-"
"A touch on her shoulder?" said Aparn. "Are you sure it
wasn't her breast?"
"No!" said LaGossi. "I would never do anything like that!"
"No," said Aparn. "By the way, would you ever openly display
copies of Playboy Magazine in your office?"
"Well... I do have a stack in the corner somewhere. Maybe I
should have kept them under cover," said LaGossi. "But that
doesn't make me a rapist."
"Did you ever show your magazines to Ms. Sommers and ask her
opinion about the nude photos contained in them?"
"No," said LaGossi.
"Mr. LaGossi, you are under oath."
"No," said LaGossi again. "I didn't." He glared at her,
raising his chin. He knew very well it was his word against
Jane's. There were no other witnesses.
Or were there? Jane got an odd expression on her face.
Something, something in her memory.... the thought faded.
"Mr. LaGossi, you're a litigation partner, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"My client was assigned to do corporate work. Why was she
assigned to work with you?"
"She had requested litigation work in the past, and the need
became available."
"What kind of assignment did you give her?"
LaGossi reddened. "She was researching certain aspects of
obscenity law."
"Which aspects?"
"I don't recall."
"Your honor, I'd like to introduce exhibit 52, the memo in
question," said Aparn. "I'd like to pass around a blowup of the
first paragraph, which contains a list of the actions that Ms.
Sommers was asked to research." She started to move to the jury
box.
"Your honor," said Fox hesitantly.
"What's the problem, Mr. Fox, do you contest the fact that
this is the actual memo in question?" said Aparn pleasantly.
"Well, no," said Fox. "But what is the relevance-"
"Proceed, Counsel," said Keiko, looking tired. It really had
been a long trial.
Aparn handed the page to the jury foreman, who read the
paragraph in question, and then passed it down.
The entire courtroom sat in silence for a moment as they all
watched the expressions on each juror who read the paragraph.
Jane, who only knew full well what sexual acts were described on
the page, watched as some jurors raised eyebrows, a few held back
laughs, and still others looked shocked. One elderly lady turned
red, and looked at Mr. LaGossi sternly, as if to say, "Shame on
you!"
When they were done and Aparn had retrieved the memo she said
pleasantly, "Now that we know the subject of my client's little
research assignment, we can proceed. Was this a very important
assignment for the firm, Mr. LaGossi?"
"Well... it needed to be done."
"Who did it need to be done for?"
"Well... there was no specific client, if that's what your
asking," said LaGossi. "But occasionally we have need for this
kind of work. We have done work from time to time for the... adult
bookstore next door to the firm."
"In return for reduced prices for purchases made by firm
members?"
LaGossi swallowed hard, then nodded.
Jane was surprised; she hadn't known there was a firmwide
discount! She wondered how Aparn had found out.
"But this assignment was not for the adult bookstore."
"No... it was just an area of law we felt we needed to flesh
out."
"In other words, it was nonbillable work, work you conjured up
without any direct need," said Aparn.
"Well... yes."
"Now, why did you select my client to handle this assignment?"
"I was talking to Bart Tolcott, he happened to mention that
Jane was available," said LaGossi.
"Did Mr. Tolcott know the nature of the assignment?"
LaGossi swallowed hard, avoiding the other partner's stares.
"Sure."
"So in other words the partners all agreed that Ms. Sommers
should work on this assignment."
"Listen, you make it out like it was some sinister plot-"
"Please answer the question, Mr. LaGossi."
LaGossi nodded.
"Let the record show that Mr. LaGossi nodded in the
affirmative. So where does that leave us?" said Aparn. "My client
was refusing to give up tricks in the corporate department, so the
partners decided to give her an assignment of a lewd nature in
order to break her down-"
"No!"
"To get her to give in!"
"No!"
"To give a known womanizer a crack at her-"
"No!" said LaGossi again, but Aparn ignored him.
"What did you say to them, Mr. LaGossi, that you could break
her? That you would make her crack? Did the other partners also
know you would attempt to rape her, or was that just your idea?"
LaGossi, red faced, stood up from his chair. "NO! STOP YOUR
LYING MOUTH!"
"Mr. LaGossi, sit down!" said Keiko, banging his gavel.
"Your honor!" said Fox.
"Sit down!" said Keiko.
LaGossi, looking calmer but bewildered, did so.
"Your honor, Ms. Aparn is badgering the witness," said Fox.
"Who is doing the badgering?" said Aparn. "My client was
assigned makework of a lewd sexual nature to break her spirit."
"Your honor-" Fox began again.
Keiko banged his gavel. "Please! Let's try to get through
this as civilly as possible. And as quickly. Counsel, please
resume."
Aparn took a deep breath. "Now that we've established the
undisputed facts, let's return to the day of the attempted rape.
You maintain that Ms. Sommers ran screaming out of your office,
when all you attempted to do was give her some moderate criticism
of a memo?"
"Yes," said LaGossi.
"Does that seem like normal reaction to memo criticism? To
run away shouting rape?"
"She was very high strung," said LaGossi.
"I see," said Aparn. "Please tell us what happened after your
disagreement."
"Well, Bart came to my office, told me that she was in
hysterics. For the good of the firm I went home for the day. When
I called in the next day, we though it better that I work out of
the Queens office-"
"Your home," said Aparn.
"Yes, also my home," said LaGossi, "Yes, to work out of my
home, at least until all of this was settled. It was for the good
of the firm."
"And what was the settlement that was agreed upon?"
LaGossi took a deep breath. "That Ms. Sommers and I were
never to work together again."
"Oh really?" said Aparn. "The proposed settlement was not
that you were on probation?"
"No."
"And the settlement was not that you were supposed to stay at
your so-called Queens office for the indefinite future?"
"No."
"I see," said Aparn. "So the partners met, and nothing like
that happened."
"You can ask them," said LaGossi, appearing confident.
Aparn leaned close to LaGossi. "Oh, I have no doubt they
would agree with your version of things, Mr. LaGossi." She looked
up at Judge Keiko. "That doesn't change the fact that you tried to
rape her, and now you're trying to get away with it!"
LaGossi got up and started shouting, and Fox joined him; Aparn
gave as good as she got, and it was Keiko who managed to restore
order, after he pounded down his gavel hard and long. "Order!" he
cried. "The next outburst will be met with the severest
sanctions!" he said, glaring equally at Fox and Aparn. "I realize
that this has been a long and tense trial, but we are going to
conclude it like civilized human beings. Now, Ms. Aparn, I presume
you're done with this witness?"
Aparn nodded. "Yes, your honor."
"How many more witnesses do you have, counsel?" Keiko asked.
"Just one more, your honor" said Aparn. "We can wrap this up
your afternoon, your honor, if the defense cooperates."
"Sounds good to us," said Fox. "Let me just get in a few
quick questions." He approached the witness stand. LaGossi looked
calmer than he did just a few moments ago. "Mr. LaGossi, did you
ever act inappropriately towards Jane Sommers?"
"Never."
"Did you ever touch her inappropriately, or show her lewd
magazines?"
"Never."
"Thank you, Mr. LaGossi," said Fox. He gave Aparn a look, as
if to say, "Well, it's still your word against ours."
Aparn ignored the gloating look and called her next witness,
her last new witness.
"Irma LaGossi, wife of Fred LaGossi," said the middle aged
woman sitting in the stand.
Aparn ignored the niceties and immediately went for the
jugular. "Mrs. LaGossi, when did your husband stop beating you?"
Fox, predictably, was immediately on his feet. "Objection!
The plaintiff's counsel has not established-"
"Here are the police reports," said Aparn, holding them up.
"On four separate occasions, the most recent three years ago, Mrs.
LaGossi called the police to complain that she was being beaten by
her husband. In light of what Mr. LaGossi has been accused of,
this question is very relevant, so I ask you again, Mrs. LaGossi:
When did your husband stop beating you?"
There was a short pause. "Three years ago. He stopped, he's
a changed man."
"May I ask, Ma'am, why he beat you in the first place?"
"I... I don't remember."
"Remember, Ma'am, you're under oath. Perhaps reading from
your testimony on the police report will stir your memory," said
Aparn, sifting through the papers. "In one instance he hit you
after you accused him of sleeping around. In another instance he
hit you because you would not perform a certain sexual act with
him. When the police arrived they found you tied and gagged,
leashed in a leather harness in a very suggestive position-"
There was laughter in the audience.
"Order! Order!" Keiko banged his gavel.
"Mrs. LaGossi, how would you characterize the sexual appetites
of your husband?"
"What?" said the woman, obviously shaken.
Aparn repeated the question, but the woman still looked
dumbfounded. "All right, on a scale of 1 to 10, with one being a
monk, and ten being a sex fiend-"
"Your honor!" said Fox.
"I'd just like an answer to my question," said Aparn
reasonably.
"He's normal!" cried Mrs. LaGossi.
Aparn frowned. "Normal? Isn't it true that you came home one
day and found Mr. LaGossi in a complex and embarrassing position
with a prostitute, a burro, two mongolian gerbils, and-"
"I've worked out my differences with Fred!" Mrs. LaGossi
cried. "He's a good man, leave him alone!"
Aparn pursed her lips. "Thank you, Mrs. LaGossi."
Fox stood up. "Mrs. LaGossi. Would your husband ever rape
anyone?"
"Never!"
"How would you characterize him?"
"He's a good man," said Mrs. LaGossi firmly.
"Thank you, Mrs. LaGossi."
"Your honor... the plaintiff rests its case," said Aparn
formally. There was nothing more to be done. Jane let out a deep
breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding in. Well,
they had given it their best shot, whatever the result. But she
frowned even as she thought it. There was still one piece of the
puzzle, one piece that kept nagging her, nudging her....
"Counsel?" said Keiko.
"We've already had an opportunity to talk to all the witnesses
we need, your honor," said Fox. "It's an open and shut case from
our perspective."
"We'll leave it to the jury to determine that, thank you,"
said Judge Keiko. "If there's nothing more, we'll have closing
arguments in the morning." He slammed his gavel. "Court is
adjourned until 9 AM the following morning."
"So how are we going to do?" said Jane, looking morose. She
was walking with Aparn outside the courthouse.
"I'm not sure," said Aparn. "I'm afraid we're very much where
we began, your word against theirs. Our advantage is that we've
painted LaGossi and the others in a bad light. But in order to
believe us the jury has to believe that all of them are lying,
which may be a big leap for some people. So it's really difficult
to say how it will turn out."
"Um," said Jane.
"Fox slipped me a note as we broke for the day," said Aparn.
"They're offering $80,000."
"That's kind of low, but at least they're offering something,"
said Jane.
"It means they don't really know who's going to win either."
There was no discussion at this point of accepting such a
settlement; each of them knew that they had to wait for the case to
go to the jury.
"Do you have your closing argument prepared?"
Aparn smiled. "Jane, I've had it prepared for weeks. Don't
worry about it. It's not going to make much difference... I
suspect most jurors have made up their minds by now. What they've
decided, I don't know, but I suspect most of them have decided."
"Um," said Jane. She continued to look troubled.
"What's wrong?" Aparn asked.
"I don't know," said Jane. "It's something about the incident
with LaGossi. It's like some memory is trying to surface, but I
just can't quite get it."
"You're bound to feel some psychological discomfort from that
unpleasant incident, even a year later," said Aparn. "Just try to
put it out of your mind."
"Um," said Jane.
She went home, removed her court clothes, and took a shower.
What was bothering her? She couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Perhaps she was anxious for the trial to be over. Perhaps she
dreaded an acquittal, for what it would say about the firm, and
what it would say about her.
Perhaps.... before Jane realized it, she found herself falling
asleep on the bed.
Click... click... click... click... the sound was loud, like
the seconds hand of a watch, only amplified. Jane put hands over
her ears, but still could not drown out the noise.
Click... click... and then the volume died down, to an audible
level, and Jane found herself seated in Mr. LaGossi's office.
"What's the matter Jane, don't you know what time it is?" he
leered, waving his watch in front of her face. The watch had a
picture of a nude women with enormous breasts. But as Jane
listened to the watch she knew the sound was not coming from there.
Click... click... click... click...
"What's the matter, Jane, don't you like me?" said LaGossi,
leering at her. He seemed twice his normal size, and twice as
ugly. He reached forward to put a hand on her... and Jane, rearing
back, felt her hand fall against her jacket pocket, felt an
unfamiliar (yet familiar!) rectangular shape, and heard, very
audibly, very loudly, a bright, enormous CLICK!
Jane sat upright in her bed, dripping with sweat. Her eyes
focused on the clock. It was 3 AM.
Memories of her nightmare flooded back to her. Yes, it was
the rape scene, haunting her as it had done before. But there had
been a clicking noise, and something in one of her pockets....
The night of the attack Jane had returned home and fallen
asleep in her clothes. When she had awoken the following morning
she had removed her wrinkled clothes and put them in the closet.
Perhaps out of fear of the memories associated with them she had
never worn that suit again or even had it drycleaned. It still
hung, in her closet.
The room was dark, but Jane's eyes were acclimating to the dim
streetlight that coursed through her venetian blinds. She slowly
made her way to her clothes closet, a deep pit of darkness that
loomed in front of her. Reaching in, she slowly felt about,
reaching for the hanger on the far left.
Trembling, Jane withdrew a suit on a wire hanger. She reached
up to the suit jacket and squeezed the left pocket.
Empty.
And then Jane reached over and squeezed the right pocket.
Her hand was greeted by a dark rectangular bulge.
Still trembling, Jane withdrew the object, instinctively
knowing what she would find even before she brought it out into the
dim light of her bedroom apartment.
A small tape recorder.
Jane reached over and turn on the lights. Her eyes narrowed
at the brightness of the light. Hoping against hope she examined
the tape recorder.
The recorder was stuck on "record", and the tape was at its
end.
Trembling even more, Jane pressed the rewind button.
Nothing happened.
It must have been set like that for the better part of a year.
The batteries must have run out.
So at three o'clock in the morning Jane scoured the streets of
New York, looking for a newsstand which was still open. She walked
cautiously on the streets, looking vainly. Her brain told her that
it was dangerous to be out this late at night, and that her errand
could await the morning.
But her heart couldn't wait.
She ended up in a small liquor store, not a block from where
she lived. There was an old man behind the counter, listening to
a baseball game on a small pocket radio. On a small pocket radio!
"Mister, I need your batteries!" said Jane.
"What?"
"I need your batteries from your radio!" said Jane excitedly.
"No way," said the man. "I gotta catch the game."
Jane plunked down a twenty dollar bill. "Then let me rent
them for ten minutes."
With fumbling hands she fitted the last of the batteries into
the tape player. For a time she had used the tape recorder to tape
record Heidi Blakelock's mumbling instructions so that she could
replay them and slowly decipher them at her leisure. When she
stopped working for Blakelock she must have left the tape player in
one of her suit jackets, the one she had been wearing the day she
went into LaGossi's office. The only question in Jane's mind was
whether that click she had heard in his office had been the record
button, and whether the tape had not already been at the end of its
cycle.
Jane pressed the rewind button for a few seconds, and quickly
pressed play.
Nothing. Silence. Dead static.
Jane rewound again, going about halfway back to the beginning.
Then she pressed play.
Nothing. Silence again.
Her fingers dripping with sweat, Jane rewound the tape all the
way, and then pressed play. The liquor store owner was fidgeting
about, getting impatient to get his batteries back.
Jane listened to silence for a moment... and then another
moment... and then-
A clatter of noises. And then voices.
"You see this?" came Mr. LaGossi's distant voice. "That's the
kind of thing I'm talking about."
And then. "Mr. LaGossi," came Jane's voice.
"Call me Fred."
"Fred... Mr. LaGossi, I don't really think this is
appropriate."
"What's wrong?" Sounds of pages flipping, Can't you imagine
doing things like that? Don't you have those kinds of urges?"
"Mr. LaGossi... please... no..."
"You'll have to play along to get ahead. Haven't you learned
that by now?"
"Please... stop..."
Jane, sitting in the liquor store, winced at the memory.
"Just relax. This won't hurt a bit. When it's done, you'll
feel like a new woman."
"No!"
And then, "No! Help! Help!"
Jane clicked on the stop button. She realized the liquor
store owner was looking at her strangely.
For a moment neither said anything.
Then the owner cleared his throat. "Can I get my batteries
back now?"
Later that morning....
"Your honor, we have new evidence," said Aparn, standing
before Judge Keiko.
"Wait a minute, the plaintiff already rested it's case," said
Fox. "This trial isn't like a garage door that you can open and
close at will."
"Your honor, we have just discovered new evidence that will
effectively decide this case," said Aparn.
Keiko raised an eyebrow. "Have this evidence presented to me
in chambers. Come with me, please."
Fox and Aparn followed him out of the courtroom.
Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. How long could it take for
them to listen to a bit of tape? Jane fretted, biting her nails.
But then the three of them returned, entering the courtroom
stone-faced.
"Proceed, Ms. Aparn," said Keiko.
"Mr. LaGossi, I'd like you to return to the stand," said
Aparn.
LaGossi, looking nervous without knowing the specific nature
of what was to come, took the stand.
"Mr. LaGossi, is the following your voice?"
Aparn set the tape recorder, adjusted the volume up high, and
pressed the play button....
"Don't you have those kinds of urges?"
"Just relax. This won't hurt a bit. When it's done, you'll
feel like a new woman."
And then came the sounds of Jane crying for help....
The courtroom exploded.
The partners of Tolcott Teitelbaum looked aghast. LaGossi had
his hands in his face. Everyone was yelling and shouting.
Although Jane knew what was coming she still felt stunned by the
impact.
Judge Keiko tried and failed to restore order. Finally the
bailiff had to order in reinforcements to restore the peace.
"Order!" said Keiko, banging his gavel.
"Your honor, I object again-" Fox began.
"We handled this in chambers, Mr. Fox," said Keiko. "There
will be order! Proceed, Ms. Aparn."
"Your honor," said Aparn. She held up the tape player. "You
may wonder how my client came happened to make this recording. At
a certain point in time she came to record some of her assignments,
in part because some of the people she worked for tended to mumble
and speak unclearly, especially Mr. Tolcott and Ms. Blakelock, and
my client could replay their instructions at a slower speed
repeatedly so she could better decipher their cryptic instructions.
She hadn't intended to record Mr. LaGossi that day but the tape
recorder had been in her pocket and had actually been triggered by
Mr. LaGossi's attack. And now, Mr. LaGossi, do you still hold that
you were merely criticizing my client's memo?"
LaGossi sweated nervously. "They made me do it!" he exploded.
"What?" said Fox.
"They wanted me to soften her up. The partners said she was
impossible to handle, that they wanted me to just scare her a
little," said LaGossi. "They made me do it, they pushed me to do
it!"
The other name partners at Tolcott Teitelbaum got up and
yelled accusations back at LaGossi. They were angry now and red in
the face. Mr. Teitelbaum struggled to get out of his chair but
failed.
The whole defense case collapsed after that. The other
partners took the stand to deny that they had ordered LaGossi to
rape Jane, and the accusations flew back and forth. When it was
all over and the case had gone to the jury Fox called Aparn and
Jane in for a last conference.
"Listen," he said, looking uncomfortable. "Obviously things
have turned your way. I'd like to propose a new settlement."
"To settle now? When the case is before the jury?" said Jane,
incredulously.
"A settlement would be binding if it were made before the
verdict were handed down," said Fox. "Listen, you asked for $6
million? We'll give you two million, guaranteed. How does that
sound?"
Two million dollars! They were offering two million dollars!
"Admission of guilt?" said Jane.
"Admission of negligence in oversight," said Fox, looking
pained.
"I don't know," said Jane coyly, toying with him.
"Jane, you can't seriously be considering this offer!" said
Aparn, horrified.
Just then there came a knock on the door. "The jury is
returning," said the bailiff.
"After 30 minutes?" said Fox, horrified. "Jane, listen,
there's still time-"
"Sure I'll accept a settlement," said Jane. "I'd settle for
all of your clients being disbarred and in jail. That's the only
settlement that I'll settle for." She gave Fox a good Tolcott
Teitelbaum glare, for good measure.
"Has the jury arrived at a verdict?"
"Yes, your honor," said the foreman. "We declare the
defendants... guilty as charged of sexual harassment, on all
counts."
"And the award?" Keiko asked.
"$400,000 in compensatory damages," said the foreman.
$400,000! Jane was shocked. Because of her smugness, she had
turned down the chance for an easy two million dollars! Was this
her punishment for acting like a snide Tolcott Teitelbaum lawyer?
The Tolcott Teitelbaum partners were grinning at each other
now. This was better than they had expected.
"Any punitive awards?" Keiko inquired.
"Yes, your honor," said the foreman. "We the jury unanimously
award the plaintiff an addition six million dollars in punitive
damages."
Six million dollars. That totally up to... $6,400,000,
exactly $100,000 for every week Jane had endured at that firm, just
as she had requested.
Keiko banged the gavel. "Members of the jury, thank you for
your service. This court is now adjourned!" He banged his gavel,
one more time.
Jane noticed that the Tolcott Teitelbaum partners were still
in a state of shock. They looked stunned as they slowly shuffled to
the exit. Jane and Aparn made their way to the exit themselves,
passing members of the jury who gave her thumbs-up signs. One of
them whispered, "We all felt sorry for you."
Jane turned to Aparn. "We did it," she said, smiling widely.
"You did it, Jane," said Aparn knowingly.
It made all the newspapers, of course, and from that point on
the name of Tolcott Teitelbaum was stained with an indelible blot.
The firm pleaded poverty when it came to paying the award, but when
the threat of independent auditors loomed, the firm quickly came up
with the cash. Unfortunately, though, the cash payment threatened
a reduction in partnership distributions, so in order to cut costs
the firm made a few sacrifices. The paralegals were let go and
Heidi Blakelock and Tim Talman were forced to do their work. Also
one of the copyroom men were let go and Jonathan Kenneth was made
to pitch in part time there. Associate offices were kept at 65
degrees in the winter and bereft of air conditioning in the summer.
And finally associate salaries were adjusted "to match other major
cities outside of New York", as the firmwide announcement put it.
Through it all Jane was satisfied. She had received justice,
at great pain and expense to herself. She just hoped that when all
the headlines and furor died down and people forgot about this
incident, several years later, that no more naive, young law
students from good schools would ever be suckered into working at
Tolcott Teitelbaum.
EPILOGUE
Five years later...
Bruce Teitelbaum sat in a small interviewing office at
Columbia University. He looked at the resume of the young woman
who was about to come in. She was a straight "A" student, with
promising credentials. When the young woman entered the office he
reached out to extend a hand, straining to get out of his chair.
She didn't reach forward to shake his. "I'm sorry, I'm not
here to interview."
"What do you mean?" said Teitelbaum.
"I just got this," she said, holding up a flyer she had
received from her recruiting office. "It's from the Woman's Legal
Defense Fund. I'm sorry, I just could never work at a firm like
yours." And she turned on her heels and left.
Jane, despite her heavy work schedule, still kept her hand in
a number of pro bono activities.
THE END
SECOND EPILOGUE
Ten years later...
JANE SOMMERS
became a partner at Ward & Stenner, a top New York law firm, where
she handles litigation cases. Despite her busy schedule she takes
pro bono cases on a regular basis, especially those involving
sexual harassment and/or where Tolcott Teitelbaum is the defendant.
BART TOLCOTT
was hospitalized for depression and no longer works at the firm.
He is currently suing the firm for his partnership distribution,
which the firm claims he forfeited.
BRUCE TEITELBAUM
suffered unintended consequences from a botched liposuction
operation and is currently a 110 pound weakling who needs an
entirely new wardrobe.
HARRY KENTRUST
was arrested for prostitution last year. Mr. Kentrust, dressed as
a lady of the evening, was apprehended while attempting to solicit
clients on a streetcorner. He is currently seeking professional
help concerning his clothing fetishes.
OLIVER KIRCH JUNIOR
has seen the firm's practice decline for the past ten years and has
attempted to lateral to another firm. But so far no one will hire
him.
JOHN MOSS
was fired for speaking out of turn to Amanda Warwick. He collected
unemployment benefits until they ran out, and his current
whereabouts are unknown.
FRED LAGOSSI
bounced back from the disgrace of having his bar membership
suspended two years to become managing partner of the firm, only
one year later; a changed man, he promised to bring a new
atmosphere of civility to the firm. Four months later, after two
associates threatened to file charges against him, the firm
selected a new managing partner, and LaGossi opted to work out of
the Queens office, permanently.
HEIDI BLAKELOCK
was arrested for assault and convicted of beating up a junior
associate during a closing. Blakelock was disbarred and currently
eeks out a marginal living as a bouncer in an all-female nightclub.
and...
Tolcott, Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch continued to
exist, although in a slightly different form: Schlissel,
Teitelbaum, Ailing, LaGossi, Kentrust & Kirch, although people
still called the firm "Tolcott Teitelbaum" for many years
afterwards. Business slowly started to dry up and the firm pared
its numbers and cut costs wherever possible. David Kapnick
achieved the rank of senior associate in charge of library
functions, since the firm could no longer afford a full-time
librarian. After the notorious effects of the sexual harassment
trial the firm was never again able to recruit associates from the
top schools, although talent from the New Law School continued to
be as plentiful as ever.
THE END
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