Lawyers Are Short
Posted by erin at January 19, 2004 07:24 PMN. demanded that I post about the party I went to on the Upper East Side with him last Thursday night wherein I met all his coworkers. Although I post about my coworkers without abandon (sort of), my coworkers are not lawyers from rich families who could sue my pants off.
I mean, even if I refer to them by their code-names, they'd still get offended.
That said, here is the story of the party:
First and foremost, it was held in a fabulous apartment with two doormen and a wooden-interior elevator, not the apartment of a lawyer, but of a partner. The partner has four kids, each which his/her own bedroom, and a live-in nanny, probably a college girl by the looks of her. The party was catered with fabulous little h'orderves, but they weren't totally awesome. That piece of white aspargrass wrapped in salmon tasted like a plain old onion if you asked me.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO SPELL EITHER OF THOSE WORDS.
Moving on, I made sure to tell the Bat-Lawyer that he was the “good one” and that N. never complains about him. The Bat-Lawyer was all gentlemanly, but totally predictable, in that he immediately started saying why N. should go to law school, not necessarily to become a lawyer, but because law degrees are so “marketable”. My ass.
I also made sure to bad-mouth N.’s other lawyers to another lawyer who I thought was a secretary, but in fact, she was a very short and friendly lawyer. I met N.’s two worst lawyers, “Thumbs” and “Harvard”. Thumbs did pick at her thumbs, but must have been wearing some kind of prosthetic over them, because I could see neither muscle nor bone.
Thumbs was obviously very preppy and sort of talked at me about whatever she was thinking, like how she spends $20 a day at CVS, and that’s why she’s so broke all the time. This was an amazing way of talking which required no brain-to-mouth filtration at all, and indeed, no listener was actually required.
Nevertheless, I have been at much worse parties. Despite Thumbs horridness as a person and her constant abuse of N. as an employee, she did seem to want to talk to me and did not hate me right off the bat, like she might of if I met her at a college party, say.
Harvard was very tall, especially compared to the other lawyers, and even taller than N., who may as well have been a giant in this land of kender and dwarves. This would make Harvard something like a sorority-girl mountain troll. She looked paler and pastier than me, and out of shape, like she’d recently gained a lot of weight. She showed up hours late, and seemed violent. I did not want to talk to her.
The long-haired lawyer was barely around and didn’t really talk to me. I don’t remember who she was or what she looked like (except that her hair was, indeed, quite long).
The really weird thing about meeting all of N.’s coworkers was that they all claimed to “have heard so much about” me, and yet, not one of them knew what I did for a living. It’s pretty freaking exciting for me to work on a cartoon show. If I were N., I’d mention this all the time, “My GIRLFRIEND, the one who WORKS ON CARTOONS…” etc. Rather, the only thing they seemed to know about me was that I had successfully obtained Trilogy Tuesday tickets, when N. had failed to do so. Apparently he had pranced about the office on that day, proclaiming his love for me. As far as I can tell, that may have been the first and only time he’s ever mentioned me at work.
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January 23, 2004 06:23 PM, Halifax said:
The image of N. prancing about made me laugh out loud. I kept thinking, "This I've got to see."
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