You’re Fired… I’m Sorr-Jealous

You know who I feel bad for? (Yes, I feel sometimes.) I feel bad for Frank Sacks, a 40-something associate. Who just got canned!

You don’t just decide on a whim to become a lawyer later in life when you have a wife and kids. No, late-blooming lawyers tend to be people with well-thought-out plans that are properly vetted and analyzed, complete with lists and spreadsheets.  Frank Sacks is one of those people. He probably said, “I want my kids to go to a decent school, so I can’t continue being a teacher.” Or maybe his wife threw down the gauntlet and was like, “I’ve still got enough gas in this tank to find a real man.”

Since I have never spoken to Frank, I felt it would be awkward to say something like, “Tough break!” or, “You’ll get ‘em next time!” So I decided to offer my consolatory urges to someone who would appreciate them—my buddy Steve, a midlevel who also got the axe.  Steve was going to be the recipient of my many awesome platitudes. I planned to give him the full Matthew Richardson treatment, complete with a pep talk and a night of strippers and blow, all compliments of yours truly.

The trouble was, Steve wasn’t upset.

And that ruined everything.

When I popped into Steve’s office to offer my fake condolences—maybe a little trash talk, an uncharacteristic “sorry,” and an invitation to drown his troubles in a tub of Scotch, spoon-fed by Russian twins—I was rebuked.

“Matt, save the smart-ass remarks, you BigLaw slave. I’m the one feeling bad for you.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “Really…”

“No,” he said, waving me off. “I’m 28, no wife, no kids (that I know of), and I just walked away with a cool four-month severance. They basically said, ‘You suck ass.  Sayonara.’ But instead of tossing me out like a piece of trash, they gave me more money than most people make in a year. Why? Because they don’t want me to badmouth the firm.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Matt, four months severance is like sixty grand,” Steve said with a smile. “I don’t even have six grand in my savings.”

Fuck, me neither. Okay, I got to turn this around.

“Yeah, but Steve-O, that money’s going run out, and then what?—”

“Wait, Matt, did you just say something?  I was busy mentally planning Spring Break Acapulco ‘09.”

“You’re not seriously going on Spring Break, you’re too old.”

“You think I’m going tell them I’m a 28-year-old lawyer? What kind of jackass would do that? I’m a 23-year-old super senior from Idaho State. I’m going with my buddies who got laid off at [REDACTED]. Those assholes got six months severance so they’re paying for the villa. College girls.  Not women with chair-ass. College girls who can wear a thong… outside.”

I must walk out of this office with my supercilious feelings intact.

“Yeah, but when you get back, you’ll be unemployed and no girls are gonna hook up with you.”

He was no longer hearing my criticisms.


I walked out.  Defeated in battle, but determined to win the war.

Days later, I heard that Steve was still coming into the office, which, by the way, is super-awkward. I think I heard a secretary mutter “Dead Man Walking” as Steve jovially bounced down the halls. I popped into his former office, annoyed that his nameplate hadn’t been removed.

“Dude, you got canned, you don’t need to show up,” I said.

“They’re letting me use the office for as long as I want. It’s kinda pimp to have an office just to run errands and whatnot, don’t you think?”

Shit. I agree with him. Don’t lose focus.

“Steve, how the hell is any girl gonna go out with you?”

“Matt, this city is filled with people not working. Taking girls out is for office stooges like you. I go out every night…and day.  And you know what?  There are so many hot girls out during the week. I had sex with an unemployed actress last night. What did you do?”

I drafted an intercreditor.  Ignore the question and keep hammering my point.

“What are you gonna do when the money runs out?”

There, nailed him. There is no way around the fact that in a few months, I will be feeling warm and fuzzy about this cushy job, and Steve and his brethren will be waiting in line at a soup kitchen.

“You’re more stressed about this than I am.  I have an Ivy League degree. When they start hiring people again—six months, a year, whatever—someone will take me back, and I’ll be grinding away again just like you. The difference is, I’ll have basically been given a second senior year on the firm’s dime. I’m making memories, biatch.”

“I can make some calls, maybe get you into a lesser firm,” I offered. “Or maybe you should get a job abroad at a firm?

“Matt, if I’m going abroad, I’m going to be a bartender, not do this shit in some Middle Eastern country where you get beheaded for banging a hooker.”

Trumped again.

I’ve been hearing a lot of nonsense about lawyers planning to go abroad. But where exactly on the face of this bankrupt Earth are they hiring lawyers? The Middle East and Asia. That’s where. Is anyone really going to go over there to do legal work for a few years?

Working at a Saudi firm sounds like a prison sentence.  Tokyo or Hong Kong doesn’t seem as bad. Cool electronics and gadgets, if you’re in to those sorts of things.  And you’d get to be the tall guy. Still, if you’re a midlevel associate such as myself, there are other opportunity costs—namely giving up prime years of your life to make a buck in some faraway land. Don’t you actually want to make some lasting friendships and maybe even meet a woman to marry? Would you rather end up happy or just have a bunch of happy endings?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I would be better off getting axed.  Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to have a job.  I guess.  But there’s a BIG part of me that would rather be at a Jamaican bar right now, sipping rum with my other laid-off friends.

I studied my paycheck every week, figuring it would make me feel superior to Steve. After all, he had to be hurting without the comfort of a trusty Friday direct deposit.  But then, a proof of life.  An email from Steve.  There was no text, just an attached jpeg of him actually holding a college girl’s bare jugs. The subject line: “Steve 1, Matt 0.”

College girls!

Overwhelmed, I typed “naked college chicks” into Google, but all I got was that damn “Restricted Site” notice, which meant HR probably flagged me yet again. (I’m easily the league leader in Restricted Site warnings.) I needed a way to cheer myself up. I thought about leaving the office, but the afternoon shift at Flashdancers is kind of depressing.  Though the buffet isn’t bad.

I then did the only thing that came naturally to me under the circumstances. I marched right into Frank Sacks’ office. The firm had given him a month or so to handover his cases, and today was his last day. If Steve wasn’t going to be the beneficiary of my platitude-filed pep talk, Frank Sacks was. It was the only reasonable way to make myself feel better about my soul-crushing job—and Steve’s beer-crushing severance package.

“Hey, Frank, I know we’ve never spoken, but I just wanted to say, when life gives you lemons, you turn right around and make lemonade.”

“Thanks?” Frank said, confused.

“You’re welcome, big guy.  And we’re going out tonight. Just two men out on the town. Strip club. Booze. Maybe a couple hookers. My treat. Unless, the wife has a tight leash on you. What do you say?”

“Matthew, right?”


“I’m gay,” Frank said. “Still want to take me out to a strip club?”

“Not so much.”

All I have to say is there better be someone around here to make jealous when my severance package rolls in. 

Matthew Richardson is mergers & acquisitions by day, Unethical & Amoral by moonlight.

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  • Bill Dugan

    Yes, if I were a couple of year’s younger, I’d be out there banging college chicks.  Right now, my focus is good looking women (not lawyers) under age 35.  They may not be quite as as college chicks, but they can’t have flat fronts or rears.  There must still be curves.  That leaves out 99% of the lawyers I know.

    Kudos to those guys who lose their jobs and can bang models every nite in the meat packing district of NYC.  I am moving there next month.

  • BL1Y

    Best article in a long time.

  • Anonymous

    Duge-meister!  I agree!  No flat-assed women for me either!

  • Anonymous

    That’s not the real BL1Y

  • BL2Y

    Yes it is.  The real BL1Y is now out banging models.

  • Midlevel Stooge

    Wait, I thought they weren’t allowed to fire gays? Or was this guy Frank in the closet. Stupid of him. If he was openly gay maybe he wouldn’t have gotten canned.

  • BL1Y

    This guy gets all the action!  “There was no text, just an attached jpeg of him actually holding a college girl’s bare jugs.” Those jugs start sagging by age 28 and by 35, they’re a mess with most women (in addition to the flat asses) . And after 40, forget it.  I agree to Go for the gusto– if you get laid off, it’s time for college girls!

  • Anonymous 22

    really good. funny. like it.

  • Bitter2L

    Love this article … get them college girls while you still can!

  • Anonymous

    Women with tight asses @25 =>Flat Asses @ 35 => FAT assets @45.  Hump ‘em over and over while they’re still tight.

  • BL1Y

    I’d really like to agree with BL2Y.

  • Craig

    I really needed an article like that today. You have got to write more often.

  • BL2Y

    You notice that we have had no legal cows commenting on this article.  Why is that?  Mooooo!  Moooo!

  • tof24

    The land of layoffs is definitely paradise, Richardson!

  • riu9

    Wonder if that dude is still grabbing ASU freshmen?

  • pjg

    hysterical!  too funny

  • Ima Cow

    Sorry, I didn’t comment earlier. I was too busy billing hours. You losers may get laid off and take a second spring break. I’m keeping my job and buying a second home.

  • Bitter2L

    I second Craig … you need to write more often. I think your stuff is great.

  • BL2Y…2

    Funny how Richardson wants to make money to get ass, and then will consider losing it, to get ass.  He should stop making his life decisions based on ass… besides how about long term goals?  He should stay at work and start saving his money for all the ass he is going to have to pay for when he is an old creep.  Girls will be charging way more then, and I’m sure the only woman—nagging plain jewish girl—who will marry him despite his antics, will be charging him as well.

  • Bitter2L

    Is that what you are doing BL2Y … 2, saving your money for all the ass you will need to buy in the future?

  • Anonymous Woman

    Too funny. If I were laid off right now i’d be in the gym … in 4 weeks, i’d have that “thong on the outside” ass right back where it used to be.  Alas, I’ll have to settle for continuing contributions to what’s left of my 401(k).

  • Anonymous Man

    Anonymous Woman- You wish it were that easy. You would officially be the first female lawyer I have ever seen pull of the trick of getting rid of their chair ass..sorry babe, chair is for life! Just be real with yourself and get liposuction.

  • Denx

    Spring Break what a dream for a hard working lawyer.

  • Anonymous

    At least anonymous woman below is interested in getting back into shape.  Most female lawyers don’t give a rat’s A$$$$ once they have money in the bank.  Whether it’s a chair ass or a fat ass, they want us guys to kiss it for them.  I say f***** off, beeotch–if you can’t take care of yourself and stay pretty, don’t expect me to drool over your chair ass!


    LOL!  I’m adding this site to my blogroll!

  • Hot Single Laid-Off Attorney

    Since getting laid-off, I seem to have become way more eligible to hot single men living in Manhattan.  Oddly enough, I can’t keep the men away, and they’re not even getting any.  LOL!
    And, I quit having to take anti-depressants the moment I was laid-off, which was about 3 months ago.  So, there is definitely a silver-lining to all this doom-and-gloom clap.

  • Anonymous

    If your hot, single and unemployed, you may want to start banging employed lawyers (good for the stress).  I have a list of 3 men (employed) looking for a hot, unemployed female lawyer.  If you are interested, let the editior know and we will keep you busy.

  • JD22

    I am Matthew fan! LOL

  • Anonymous Woman

    Anonymous Man, so hateful, meow.  My chair ass is still a size 4 … and it still looks better than any of the secretary ass that has ever worked at this firm. (And no, I do not make the hiring decisions.) I see so many prematurely middle-aged male associates that I wonder if the paunch and the thinning hair are actually side effects of staring at a computer screen too long.  Chair ass is no respecter of gender differences … it helps if the ass in question looked halfway decent before one started sitting on it all day…
    Point is, if I were laid off from a big law job, i’d go on a second spring break too, f- it.  No, make that capital F F-it.

  • BroLt

    First communication with Bitter.  Love it.