Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Being a lawyer is GLAMOROUS!!!

I have a fabulous friend. Her name, for purposes of this blog, is Fury Berlin. This is an email that Ms. Berlin sent to me describing her morning at the courthouse.

"So I go in today on a status for one of the partners (same case that I got sent to where I showed up for “status” and plaintiff’s counsel was there for trial). Again, this does not go well. And the entire time I have two cups of coffee and a Diet Dr. Pepper filling up my bladder. I walk into the bathroom and the two end stalls are empty. The middle stall has an old homeless-looking lady in it…taking a VERY loud dump…while singing “He’s got the whole world in his hand”…with the DOOR OPEN. She stops singing when I walk in and says “hello” to me. I’m not sure how to react – do I stay and finally empty my bladder or do I jet out of there before things get stranger. I stay (I’m desperate). She moves onto “This little light of mine”. I’m washing my hands and I can feel her watching me. I’m trying to keep my bag on my shoulder while holding my jacket and scarf in between my legs. Crazy lady tells me not to put my stuff on the floor because that’s how people contract the bird flu. I finally leave."

Thank you, Fury, for reminding us all that life as an attorney sure is fancy.

Hey other lawyers: Feel free to email me stories of your glamorous life as an attorney, and I'll post them if they're funny. Ideally the story will involve homeless, crazy, or naked people.

11 comments:

Jackass said...

There are other professions that are just as glamorous. I was at a meeting with uuummmmm - clearing my throat - a Member of Congress. There were about nine of us seated in his office. In the middle of the briefing, he got up and went into his private bathroom (only about six members have one). All the sudden we heard the sound of explosive diarrhea. I will never be able to look at him the same way.

Fannie said...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I'll think of one....

David A said...

Dear Ms. Berlin Fury:

I don't know if you went over to the Daley Center or the federal building, but if you were in the Daley Center, don't you know not to enter that building with two cups of coffee and a Diet Dr. Pepper in your bladder? There is a strong probability that the elevator in that building will get stuck between floors. Imagine being in an elevator car full of old, crusty, male lawyers and needing to relieve yourself.

Zimdog said...

My boss has two really small pointer fingers. It's really creepy when he's trying to make a point and points those nubby fingers at you.

But, since we're talking about bowel movements and not talking about fingers, I might as well tell my story. My boss recently had gastric bypass surgery to get rid of his enormous stomach. With his stomach went his memory but that's beside the point. Since he hasn't really changed his eating habits as a result of the surgery, he spends about 1.5 hours on our public school district administration building shitter every day. Did I mention he also has very small feet, so all the guys can tell when he is taking a 2 hour poo by walking in and looking under the stall. You can tell when his feet have been spotted because the guy who was heading down to the bathroom is almost immediately back at his desk.

My male coworker and fellow cubicle mate had this to say, "After lunch, we have to hold it. Anyone who goes in there between noon and two is in for a smelly treat. If you work here, you know to use the bathroom at the restaurant you're at before you head back to work."

Anyway, watching this unfold is one of my most favorite things to do during the day. For the men, looking under the stall to see if my boss is in there has become as routine as checking e-mail. But, it has made my pretty mellow. I know that when he heads down that hallway with a newspaper or magazine, I can hop on the Law with Grace blog and slack off for at least an hour.

obsquatch said...

I'm no lawyer, but...
I was shopping at 2am at my local Jewel because I don't like people with shopping carts, or people for that matter, and there was a young woman restocking the cereal shelves. She was short and handicapped but was restocking the top shelves, something that even my 6'4" body needs tippy toes to reach. She thanked me and I bought my goods. Feeling like I was healing the world, one top shelf at a time, I whistled my way home and on the way, gave a homeless woman some beef jerky. I can't help but think that my helping hand to the handicapped restocking lady influenced me to sharing some over processed beef-in-stick-form product with a homeless lady, which gave her indigestion and flatulence, a problem that is best dealt with in the privacy of bathrooms. Since this lady was homeless, she could only utilize public facilities, where she meet your friend, Fury Berlin. Tell Fury it's my fault and I'm sorry.

TunnelVision said...

I have a story involving a man wearing "cow fur" boots, his toothless father, a hemophiliac boy, and a judge with a hearing aid. Incredible.

Your blog is fun and very pink. Very.

Jane Know said...

I could go on and on about my glamorous career as an STD nurse...

Daisy Duke said...

What about the pro se defendant screaming "I'm Homeless!" after refusing to provide a physical address for discovery to be sent to because the plaintiff's counsel was "trying to kill him"??

LegallySuited said...

(1) I like the pink too.

(2) I work as in-house counsel. And don't have an office. Or even a cubicle. Talk about glamour though - I do have armrests on my chairs (a serious sign of coolness in a Japanese office).

- LS

Mr. Saddle Shoes said...

Once, in the Daley Center, municipal division on the 11th floor, I saw some sheets of yellow paper on the floor. I looked closer, and then realized:

Someone was using them to alert people to the poop on the carpet.

Poop.

On the carpet.

In the Courthouse.

Can anyone top that?

Rachel M. said...

i get to say several times a day, "that is a broom, not a weapon." and a AT LEAST once a week, "have you noticed any dripping or oozing from your penis?"