Jeremy Blachman - Anonymous Lawyer

Monday, May 8

I see you. I see you walking by my office, trying to look like you have a reason to be there. But you dont. I see the guilty look on your face. You try not to make eye contact. You try to rush past me as if youre going to the bathroom. But the bathroom is at the other end of the hall. You think Im nave, but I know what youre doing. Everyone knows. But shes my secretary, not yours, and her candy belongs to me, not you. And if I have a say in whether or not you ever become a partner at this firmand trust me, I doIm not going to forget this. My secretary. My candy. Go back to your office and finish reading the addendum to the lease agreement. I dont want to see you in the hall for at least another sixteen hours. AND STOP STEALING MY CANDY.

And stop stealing my stapler, too. I shouldnt have to go wandering the halls looking for a stapler. Im a partner at a half-billion-dollar law firm. Staplers should be lining up at my desk, begging for me to use them. So should the young lawyers who think I know their names. The Short One, The Dumb One, The One With The Limp, The One Whos Never Getting Married, The One Who Missed Her Kids FuneralI dont know who these people really are. You in the blue shirtno, the other blue shirtI need you to count the number of commas in this three-foot-tall stack of paper. Pronto. The case is going to trial seven years from now, so Ill need this done by the time I leave the office today. Remember: I can make or break you. I hold your future in my hands. I decide whether you get a view of the ocean or a view of the dumpster. This isnt a game. Get back to work. My secretary. My stapler. MY CANDY.

#Posted by Anonymous at 1:14 pm

Tuesday, May 9

I can barely do anything this morning knowing theres a living creature in the office next to mine. Usually its just the corporate securities partner, and he hasnt moved a muscle since the Carter administration. But today he brought his dog into the office. Ridiculous. As if there arent enough animals here already. We had fish once. Piranhas. We overfed them. We threw The Fat Guys lunch in the tank one day because he showed up to a meeting fifteen minutes late. The fish devoured itturkey sandwich, brownie, forty-eight-ounce Cokeand then exploded. It made the point. No one shows up late to my meetings anymore.

But the dog arrived this morning and immediately everyone was in the hallway instead of where they belong, staring into their computer screens. Associates were getting up, out of their chairs, to go chase the dog, pet the dog, talk to the dog. Someone gave the dog a piece of his muffin from the attorney lounge. The muffins arent for dogs. We dont even let the paralegals have the muffins. The muffins are for client-billing attorneys. Theyre purely sustenance to keep the lawyers from having to leave the office for breakfast. Theyre not for visitors. I made a note of the incident and Ill have a dollar-fifty taken off the guys next paycheck.

The dog barked once. I told his owner to keep the dog quiet or Id lock him in the document room with the junior associates whove been in there for six weeks, searching for a single e-mail in a room full of boxes. Theres an eerie quiet that normally pervades the halls of the firm, punctuated only by the screams of those whove discovered they can use the letter opener to end the pain once and for all. Id like to keep it that way. We dont need barking to drown out our inner turmoil. Noise is for the monthly happy hour and the annual picnic. Not the workspace. The workspace is sacred.

I overheard The One Who Doesnt Know How To Correctly Apply Her Makeup say the dog really brings some life into this place. I dont feel so alone, she said. I gave her some more work to do. Shes obviously not busy enough. Shes supposed to feel alone. This isnt the kind of business where people can go into their co-workers offices and fritter away the morning chatting about the weather or the stock market or their relationship issues. Or playing with a damn dog.

Were a law firm. Time is billable. The client doesnt pay for small talk. Every minute you spend away from your desk is a minute the firm isnt making any money off your presence, even though youre still using the office supplies, eating the muffins, drinking the coffee, consuming the oxygen, and adding to the wear and tear on the carpets. Youre overhead. And if youre not earning your keep, you shouldnt be here.

The dog shouldnt be here, except hes probably more easily trained than some of my associates. If I get him to eat some incriminating evidence we need to destroy, I can bill the client a couple hundred dollars an hour for it. If I can get him to bark at some opposing counsel and scare them into accepting our settlement offer, thats probably billable. If I can get him to pee on a secretary, it wont be billable, but its entertaining nonetheless. Hardly matters. Having a dog in the office is almost as ridiculous as holding the elevator for a paralegal. Inappropriate, undesirable, and it WILL NOT HAPPEN when I become chairman of this place, I guarantee you that.

#Posted by Anonymous at 9:25 AM

To: Anonymous Niece

From: Anonymous Lawyer

Date: Tuesday, May 9, 1:40 PM

Great seeing you over the weekend. Im glad you came down. I was just talking about you at lunchanother partner said his son is starting at Stanford in the fall, and I told him I have a niece whos graduating next month. I said Id see if youd let me pass along your e-mail address in case his son has any questions. His father is a tax lawyer, so the sons probably a nut, but at least I can get some points for being helpful to my colleagues. Hell owe me one the next time I need a swing vote at the partner meeting.

I took a quick look at some of those law student weblogs you told me about. They gave me some names to add to the list of kids Im never going to hire. They also motivated me to start this new e-mail account. Maybe Ill write a weblog of my own. Ill be Anonymous Lawyer. You can be Anonymous Niece. How does that sound?

To: Anonymous Lawyer

From: Anonymous Niece

Date: Tuesday, May 9, 2:23 PM

Sounds strange, but youre the boss. Anonymous Niece is fine. Feel free to give the tax partner my e-mail address. I can tell his son which professors to avoid, where to get the best pizza, its no problem. Besides, if Im nice to his son, his dad will help me with my Tax assignments once Im in law school, right?

To: Anonymous Niece

From: Anonymous Lawyer

Date: Tuesday, May 9, 2:37 PM

You wont need his help. Im sure youll do quite fine on your own. Not everyone can get into Yale Law School. Im proud of you, you know. It doesnt look like either of my kids is turning out to be a genius, so you might be my only hope.

Dont forget to call your grandma and wish her a happy birthday. We talked about you this morning. Shes happy youre following in my footsteps. At least someone in this family is.

Wednesday, May 10