Back to Work
"She's a bitch on wheels!"
Laura Moreno looked up to see the new contract attorney from Seattle walking into the workroom.
"First she yelled at me for using a chair with wheels to move boxes, then she yelled at me for writing with a marker on the boxes, then she yelled at me for stacking the boxes at the empty secretary station, then she yelled at me for the missing box she found under the conference table." Laura shook her head in sympathy with the livid young man. "I even brought her coffee from Starbucks this morning--her tepid 'thanks' was the only civil word I've heard out of her all day!"
"You can't take it personally," said Moreno, who was yelled at by the paralegal-from-Hell within five minutes of first meeting her.
"She's a bitch and a half! If she ever spoke like that to an associate or a partner, she'd be out on her ass!"
"But she doesn't," said Moreno. "We're the dogs she likes to kick. All you can do is keep as much distance from her as possible."
"How?" he asked.
"The only thing they care about here is getting it done quickly and billing it to the client. Just try to focus on the work like a laser beam. If she SLOWS you down in any way, let the partner know."
"The partner?" he asked incredulously, not even having enough nerve to let an associate know, or even Chloe Cleavage.
"It's either that or let it roll off your back," said Moreno, who was so burnt out at Prince and Prowling that she had actually started fantasizing about getting fired. "The only way to win is not to care." Even as the words escaped her lips, she realized she sounded like a heroin junkie in a film she once saw.
"OWWWW!"
The two contract attorneys rushed out into the hallway to see who had screamed; it was Charles Wu, who had abruptly paused to examine a new painting on the wall and gotten rammed in the back of his legs with a box cart pushed by the paralegal-from-Hell.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, recognizing Wu as a frequent visitor. Wu nodded without saying anything, then limped off to see former Senator Evermore Breadman. "What are YOU looking at?!" she then screamed at the two contract attorneys staring at her, and Moreno pulled her companion back into the workroom before he was tempted to open his mouth.
Not far away, Wu was limping into Breadman's office.
"What happened to you?!" exclaimed the former Senator.
"Nothing," said Wu, whose chi was so powerful that the pain was already subsiding and no bruise or scratch would remain. "I found a solution for you," added Wu.
"For Congressman Herrmark?" asked Breadman, hopefully.
"Oh, not for that," said Wu. "The mediation on the river case."
"You got the fix in with the mediator?" whispered Breadman, his eyes shining in glee.
"Umm, no--something better," said Wu, who had never thought injecting bribery into a case of this magnitude was worth the risk to his reputation. "Your client's in-house counsel just got a job offer that she could not refuse, so she's off the case. The new counsel will file for a contin--"
"That's just a delay," said Breadman. "It's brilliant--don't get me wrong, I'm grateful--but my client is still going to have to pay 45 years of legal fees eventually. We have to persuade the mediator to do the right thing!"
"This will give me time to get to know the mediator," said Wu. "Put some ideas into her head."
The former Senator was dubious, but Wu had never failed him yet.
A few miles away, Congressman Herrmark was returning to his office after voting against raising the debt limit. Ann Bishis said, "you need to call--", but Herrmark waved her off and headed straight to his private office. He closed the door and locked it because he needed time to think. He sat down on the leather couch, then kicked off his shoes and lay down. He stared at the ceiling and pondered the deal he had just been offered in exchange for support on closing the Halliburton loophole--it seemed too good to be true. He wished Mia were here to rub his feet...or his shoulders....
Several miles to the west, the 5G consultants of Bo-Oz were being interviewed by the General Counsel at Booz Allen, who had been warned that Justice Department subpoenas were on the way. After her more general questions were deflected, she got straight to the point: "Did you, or did you not, give International Development Machine $5 million to harvest eggs from Afghan women for the purpose of selling them in Europe and North America?"
"The project was a reproductive health project," said Fen Do Ping, the former Federal Reserve Board economist who had been recruited by the Bo-Oz team just before the IDM project was launched. "We did nothing illegal!" he whined, but the others--who had grown up in the U.S. and watched plenty of cop shows--remained silent.
"Fine," said the General Counsel. I will isolate Ping later and get him to squeal on the others. "I'll be in touch." She stood up to signal them to leave.
Meanwhile, the General Counsel's nanny was in Rose Park watching her charge play on the swings with the other children under the care of the members of Nannies United to Take Y Chromosomes (N.U.T.T.Y.) At first overjoyed by the news that a domestic worker had successfully seduced a man as powerful as Arnold Schwarzenegger, they had become increasingly downcast at the social backlash. They were also distressed that it appeared Schwarzenegger had never had any relationship with his love child. While money was a terrific motive and something they were never loathe to discuss, the truth was that they also believed their lovers cared more for them than their wives. They were all uneasy, but nobody dared verbalize what was on everybody's mind.
A few miles away, Dubious McGinty stepped out of the air-conditioned comfort of his secret lair in the Bridgeman's quarters, felt the hot sun hit him immediately, then looked down into the Potomac. Sometimes he wondered how good it would feel to jump into that cool river water smack in the middle of a hot, hot day, and enjoy it as God intended--without a goddam demon swirling all around you and trying to suck out your soul. It was quiet today, all the Rolling Thunder motorcycles gone and the holiday revelers back to work. Another pointless Memorial Day, honoring war veterans in every possible way but the one that would actually matter--ending war. He spit at Ardua of the Potomac and walked back inside.
Laura Moreno looked up to see the new contract attorney from Seattle walking into the workroom.
"First she yelled at me for using a chair with wheels to move boxes, then she yelled at me for writing with a marker on the boxes, then she yelled at me for stacking the boxes at the empty secretary station, then she yelled at me for the missing box she found under the conference table." Laura shook her head in sympathy with the livid young man. "I even brought her coffee from Starbucks this morning--her tepid 'thanks' was the only civil word I've heard out of her all day!"
"You can't take it personally," said Moreno, who was yelled at by the paralegal-from-Hell within five minutes of first meeting her.
"She's a bitch and a half! If she ever spoke like that to an associate or a partner, she'd be out on her ass!"
"But she doesn't," said Moreno. "We're the dogs she likes to kick. All you can do is keep as much distance from her as possible."
"How?" he asked.
"The only thing they care about here is getting it done quickly and billing it to the client. Just try to focus on the work like a laser beam. If she SLOWS you down in any way, let the partner know."
"The partner?" he asked incredulously, not even having enough nerve to let an associate know, or even Chloe Cleavage.
"It's either that or let it roll off your back," said Moreno, who was so burnt out at Prince and Prowling that she had actually started fantasizing about getting fired. "The only way to win is not to care." Even as the words escaped her lips, she realized she sounded like a heroin junkie in a film she once saw.
"OWWWW!"
The two contract attorneys rushed out into the hallway to see who had screamed; it was Charles Wu, who had abruptly paused to examine a new painting on the wall and gotten rammed in the back of his legs with a box cart pushed by the paralegal-from-Hell.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, recognizing Wu as a frequent visitor. Wu nodded without saying anything, then limped off to see former Senator Evermore Breadman. "What are YOU looking at?!" she then screamed at the two contract attorneys staring at her, and Moreno pulled her companion back into the workroom before he was tempted to open his mouth.
Not far away, Wu was limping into Breadman's office.
"What happened to you?!" exclaimed the former Senator.
"Nothing," said Wu, whose chi was so powerful that the pain was already subsiding and no bruise or scratch would remain. "I found a solution for you," added Wu.
"For Congressman Herrmark?" asked Breadman, hopefully.
"Oh, not for that," said Wu. "The mediation on the river case."
"You got the fix in with the mediator?" whispered Breadman, his eyes shining in glee.
"Umm, no--something better," said Wu, who had never thought injecting bribery into a case of this magnitude was worth the risk to his reputation. "Your client's in-house counsel just got a job offer that she could not refuse, so she's off the case. The new counsel will file for a contin--"
"That's just a delay," said Breadman. "It's brilliant--don't get me wrong, I'm grateful--but my client is still going to have to pay 45 years of legal fees eventually. We have to persuade the mediator to do the right thing!"
"This will give me time to get to know the mediator," said Wu. "Put some ideas into her head."
The former Senator was dubious, but Wu had never failed him yet.
A few miles away, Congressman Herrmark was returning to his office after voting against raising the debt limit. Ann Bishis said, "you need to call--", but Herrmark waved her off and headed straight to his private office. He closed the door and locked it because he needed time to think. He sat down on the leather couch, then kicked off his shoes and lay down. He stared at the ceiling and pondered the deal he had just been offered in exchange for support on closing the Halliburton loophole--it seemed too good to be true. He wished Mia were here to rub his feet...or his shoulders....
Several miles to the west, the 5G consultants of Bo-Oz were being interviewed by the General Counsel at Booz Allen, who had been warned that Justice Department subpoenas were on the way. After her more general questions were deflected, she got straight to the point: "Did you, or did you not, give International Development Machine $5 million to harvest eggs from Afghan women for the purpose of selling them in Europe and North America?"
"The project was a reproductive health project," said Fen Do Ping, the former Federal Reserve Board economist who had been recruited by the Bo-Oz team just before the IDM project was launched. "We did nothing illegal!" he whined, but the others--who had grown up in the U.S. and watched plenty of cop shows--remained silent.
"Fine," said the General Counsel. I will isolate Ping later and get him to squeal on the others. "I'll be in touch." She stood up to signal them to leave.
Meanwhile, the General Counsel's nanny was in Rose Park watching her charge play on the swings with the other children under the care of the members of Nannies United to Take Y Chromosomes (N.U.T.T.Y.) At first overjoyed by the news that a domestic worker had successfully seduced a man as powerful as Arnold Schwarzenegger, they had become increasingly downcast at the social backlash. They were also distressed that it appeared Schwarzenegger had never had any relationship with his love child. While money was a terrific motive and something they were never loathe to discuss, the truth was that they also believed their lovers cared more for them than their wives. They were all uneasy, but nobody dared verbalize what was on everybody's mind.
A few miles away, Dubious McGinty stepped out of the air-conditioned comfort of his secret lair in the Bridgeman's quarters, felt the hot sun hit him immediately, then looked down into the Potomac. Sometimes he wondered how good it would feel to jump into that cool river water smack in the middle of a hot, hot day, and enjoy it as God intended--without a goddam demon swirling all around you and trying to suck out your soul. It was quiet today, all the Rolling Thunder motorcycles gone and the holiday revelers back to work. Another pointless Memorial Day, honoring war veterans in every possible way but the one that would actually matter--ending war. He spit at Ardua of the Potomac and walked back inside.
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 1:03 PM
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