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There are probably other people whoactuallydeserve this job, not just spoiled little city girls with influential parents like me.
But they’re not the ones sitting at this desk, scrambling to check their forgotten emails as their supervisor stares down at them with eyes like a hawk.
Or an owl. Katie’s eyes are too large to be a hawk.
I sit up straight in my seat. “I just opened my inbox a second ago. I’m sorry. What was it that you said?” I ask, feeling the nausea of new-job anxiety crawling up my throat. I’ve always hated this part of starting a new job, and working as a brand-new lawyer is unequivocally more challenging than any coffee shop or mall kiosk I’ve worked at by far.
I could fuck up someone’s whole life just by deleting a file or forgetting some trivial piece of evidence. I’ve barely been able to sleep because of it, and caffeine has lost its sparkle after years of abusing it in law school.
“Oh, I just wanted to let you know that we need you to increase your billable hours,” Katie chirps casually. She has the most disingenuous, over-whitened smile I’ve ever seen permanently plastered on her face. It’s so unnerving that I’d prefer her just to yell at me.
I freeze. “Oh, sure, um… how did you want me to go about that? I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping or anything since I just got here,” I overexplain, panicking slightly in order to cover my ass. I always say the wrong thing when I’m confronted with a situation like this.
“We just need you to take on a couple of new clients. You’ve been doingso greatsince you got here. You’re a rockstar!” she replies, her eyes widening unnaturally with her maddeningly cheery disposition.
It’s nine in the morning. Nobody isthatexcited to be here.
“Right. Is there anyone you had in mind? I’ve just been trying to keep up with the clients I already have...” I trail off, glancing back down at my computer screen and scrolling through an already-long list of clients.
Even if she’s just trying to challenge me as an attorney, there’s no way that she believes that adding another client to my list will benefit anyone. I can’t afford to fuck up anyone’s case just because I was distracted by someone else’s. That would just cause a domino effect of shitty situations, and I would probably end up losing my job.
Maybe I’m just thinking too hard. I could just be setting myself up for failure, or do I see the writing on the walls?
Katie leans in a bit too far, her perfume stinging my nostrils. “Well, you see, there’s this guy who owns a bar in one of those up-and-coming neighborhoods on the lower south side,” she begins, pausing for a dramatic effect where none is required.
“And what does he need from me?” I ask, leaning away from her an inch and doing my best to stay patient.
Katie rubs her chin thoughtfully. “I guess he got screwed over by one of his distributors, and he’s looking to retaliate. If he’s got a case, it shouldn’t be too hard. Everything needs to be in writing for us to build a file on him, though. If he doesn’t have that, we can move on to someone else,” she explains, finally stepping back and grabbing a chair. She pulls it up on the other side of my desk and sits down. “Sound good?”
Even though I grew up dreaming of being a defense attorney like my mom, I know that I need to pay my dues at the bottom of the totem pole before I can be anywhere near as successful as her. Even still, the idea of dealing with some impatient, entitled old man over a bad business deal sounds like it would bore me to death before I had the chance to resolve it.
But I’m not really in the position to say no, despite Katie’s open-ended request.
“Oh, that doesn’t sound too terrible,” I relent, realizing only after the words leave my mouth how bad they sound. What if she thinks I’m disrespecting her suggestion? If this woman appeared to have a single genuine emotion at all, it would be easier for me to place her emotional state.
But she doesn’t appear fazed. She just continues to stare at me with those large glassy eyes. “No, it won’t be bad at all,” she says, smiling widely again. “You’re more than capable of handling someone like that. I believe in you.”
I can’t keep eye contact with her for more than a few seconds. She’s the picture of mindlessly indulged wealth – perfectly tailored pantsuits and a facelift that only the most observant of eyes would see. I can’t tell if I’m looking at a modern masterpiece or a disastrous disregard for nature.
My eyes dart back to my laptop screen, and I pretend to type something into my browser. “Okay, that’s no problem,” I chirp. “Could you send me his contact info?” I hope that my request will at least get her out of my office.
“Already sent it. Just let me know how your consult goes,” she replies, smiling at me expectantly.
I hesitate for a moment, pretending to scroll through my email in order to appear disengaged from her searing stare. “Oh, right, here it is,” I reply with a false sense of relief. I’ve found her email, and along with the deliriously excitable ramblings of an alleged cocaine addict is the contact information of a disgruntled bar owner.
Lovely.
I shift my eyes back up to her, squinting a bit like I’m looking into the sun. “Um, I’m just going to go ahead and make the call then.”
“Okay, that’s all you needed to say. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” she replies, hopping up out of her chair and leaving it in front of my desk as she prances out of my office.
Finally!
I grab the over-iced plastic cup of coffee from beside me and take a large gulp, the heavy condensation rolling off the sides and falling onto my keyboard in a concerning splatter. I quickly put the cup down and brush the water off.
They make laptops waterproof these days, right?
I take a deep breath and return to my inbox, reading Katie’s email again without her staring daggers into my brain.
