So Much for the Hamptons

Bitter and Abused Columns, Lawyer

My friend from Chicago just flew into town.  He swung by my office with his overnight bag. We made a few phone calls, found out about some “hip” parties that weekend, then set off for the Hampton Jitney.  I was finally about to amortize that half-share in East Hampton I overpaid for.  As I was leaving my office, my phone rang.  “Don’t answer it,” my buddy said.  But I couldn’t help it.  “Hello?” I said, my voice trembling with fear.  Seconds later, I was on my way up to the 44th floor to do some due diligence with the world’s most annoying senior associate–and my friend was off to the Hamptons alone.  I tried to explain to the S/A that my friend was in town, didn’t know anyone in my summer house, was in NY to visit me, etc… But she didn’t care.  Just looked at me and said, “Sorry.” If that wasn’t bad enough, later that night, or should I say morning, she looked at me with this slightly insane, self-obsessed smile and said, “What can I say, I’m a deal junkie.” I wanted to cry, but I was too depressed.

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