I just got back from a meeting regarding a response (due Monday) to a motion for summary judgment in a trade secrets case. Junior partner who was left in charge of dealing with responding to the 865 statements of undisputed material fact (and who had been aggressively insisting since last Monday that it was “under control”) revealed that although he had disputed nearly every one of the statements, he “hadn’t really had time to completely finish” filling in the supporting cites from a record containing hundreds and hundreds of pages.
For the un-anointed, all you really need to understand is that there is a lot of fucking work left to do. Not only is Thanksgiving shot, but so is close to every minute of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, including those traditionally spent sleeping.
Of course I desperately wanted to fire off a searing indictment of this abuse, until it dawned on me: This is precisely why they pay me five times the median household income for single women. So perhaps my mood (and productivity) would be better served by reflecting on why this abuse should be greeted with holiday gratitude:
- It’s concrete proof I haven’t been laid off
- Won’t have to pretend I’m working just to save face in front of my law school friends who work at more prestigious Big Firms than mine
- Perfect opportunity to act out my fantasy of pulling that senior associate of indeterminate relationship status into a make-out session in Docketing
- Can finally stare for as long as I want at the creepy family photos in the offices of the senior partners I work for
- The borderline psychotic wife who is convinced I am having an affair with her junior partner husband is (presumably) with him today, which means an all-day reprieve from those unsettling hang-up prank calls
- Won’t have to take the long route to the bathroom to avoid the secretary that terrifies me
- It’s a weekday (holiday or no holiday), and I might be able to cut out before 10:00 PM
- No need to come up with excuses to get that Mormon paralegal who thinks we’re BFFs out of my office
- Will not be subjected to the open-mouthed ogling usually caused by my office’s placement on the path to the men’s room—none of the male partners will be here
- The saved calories means slightly less guilt over not having gone to the gym since five weeks before the bar exam
- Won’t have to deal with the newly minted family holiday tradition of having my Uncle Joe announce derisively “Here comes the bigshot rich lawyer” every time I enter a room