Aristotle said that work is what we repeatedly do. If true, that’s utterly depressing, Katie thought, as she watched the message light flicker on her phone. Lately, all I’ve done is check voice mail and return calls. It’s not at all how I pictured being a lawyer.
“You have three new messages,” the voice intoned over the phone.
Great, thought Katie. She stared at the phone for a minute, then pushed at the number one with a pencil.
“First message. Monday. 5:11 a.m.” the machine chirped.
Nobody calls that early.
“Katie, it’s Jim. I was thinking about the Smith estate this morning. I need you to finish up that tax return and get it out to Peggy this morning. I know the deadline isn’t until the end of the week but we need to get it finished up.”
“I put that on your desk already,” Katie muttered under her breath. “Last week,” she added crossly.
“Beep. Next message. Monday. 5:38 a.m. Katie, it’s Jim again. I see where you left that return on my desk. I’m going to look it over, make some changes and put it in your box.”
“Great,” Katie muttered, searching halfheartedly through a stack of papers on her desk.
“Beep. Next message. Monday 8:43 a.m. Hey, Kate. It’s Elena. Sorry I forgot to call on Sunday. It was kind of nutty here. It was our three month anniversary so we were out. I know I said I’d call, but you understand. Anyhow, I’m late for class, so call me later. Beep.”
Sure, Katie thought. I mean, your three-month anniversary of seeing someone who is still seeing someone else is such a big deal.
She rolled her eyes.
I’m so glad that’s not me, she thought, all desperate and needy. I’d rather be independent.
Katie sighed.
Or is independent just another word for lonely? she thought wryly.
She sighed again, tapping the pencil mindlessly on the desk.
“End of messages.” the phone chirped.
She hit the speakerphone key with her pencil, disconnecting the phone, and shuffled the papers on her desk.
God, I wish I’d grabbed a cup of coffee this morning, she thought, barely stifling a yawn. This working fulltime while studying for the bar exam was really taking its toll.
Only one more month, she reminded herself, and then you’ll be a lawyer.
“A lawyer,” she repeated out loud.
My friends at home won’t know what to think.
Technorati Tags:
law school, Philadelphia, law
If you liked my post, feel free to subscribe to my rss feeds
BlogoSquare
9 Trackbacks
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] The beep of the phone brought her back to the reality of her Monday morning in New Jersey. If she wanted to keep her job, she needed to actually get some work done. “Yes?” said Katie into the speakerphone. “Katie, it’s Shirley.” Katie rolled her eyes. Of course it was Shirley. Who else would be paging her in an office from no more than thirty feet away? The office was small. Katie liked to think of it as cozy - small for law firms seemed to have a negative connotation. But there was no getting around the fact that it lacked the “wow” factor of a Center City law office in one of the highrises downtown. There were no glass paneled conference rooms, in fact, there wasn’t a conference room at all. Set on the first floor of a traditional brick building, the office that had so impressed and awed her during her interview had no atrium open to a skylight, no separate floor for reception and no sweeping panoramic views. There were just three offices: one for Jim, one for Katie and one that a part-time attorney from North Jersey used from time to time. The reception area consisted of a small desk space with partitions for privacy set back from the waiting area. Simple and professional, and not overwhelming. Katie liked it, though she often wished that Shirley was a little more removed from the main office space. She felt like she was constantly being monitored. “Jim wants to see you in his office,” Shirley said. “Okay,” Katie replied. “Bring a pen.” Shirley added. Katie made a face at the phone. This day was definitely not starting off as she planned. She grabbed a pen off of her desk, along with a legal pad of yellow paper and walked towards the door. Striding across the hallway, she knocked briefly on Jim’s door and went in without waiting for an answer. “You needed to see me?” she asked. Before he could answer, two faces peered around the backs of overstuffed leather chairs: a sweet looking elderly couple with somber expressions. “Katie,” Jim said, “Let me introduce you to the Hershbergers.” (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]
[…] (To read from the beginning, click here) […]