behalf of a joint business, that business will be joint property—doesn’t apply to the cats.”
“But I’ve told you fifty times. We didn’t include that clause for the cats. That clause was for the Internet matchmaking that Stewart wanted to do.”
I put my head in my hands for a moment before responding. “I know that, Liesel. We should win this, but we have to be strategic about it. It doesn’t make sense to fill the papers with a bunch of extraneous information about whether you nagged Stewart to take care of the cats or whether he took his own initiative. The judge won’t care.”
“Molly, how old are you?”
“What? How is that relevant?”
“No, you’re so hell-bent on telling me what to do. You need to answer my questions too. It’s quid pro quo here.”
Pause.
“Or maybe I should tell Lillian that you’re not able to handle my case.” She waits for that to sink in before repeating the question. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-nine, Liesel.”
“Well, I’m forty. You might have done a few more motions than I have, but I have eleven years on you. You don’t really know about life. Trust me. We need to talk about the cat care. We need to tell the judge that Stewart never remembered on his own. It says a lot about his character.”
I feel my blood start to simmer. I’ve been containing my anger at Liesel since our conversation a few weeks ago and the dam is breaking; I twitch a little, my knee bouncing quickly as I nibble at a jagged nail on my index finger. But I can’t tell off Liesel. What if she complains to Lillian about it? “Okay, Liesel. We’ll think about it. Let’s move on.”
12
____
the health benefits of smoking
S omehow, Liesel and I cobble together the motion by the return date. I get her to accept most of my revisions by pretending that they were Lillian’s ideas. But she still calls me daily—and often for over an hour—to discuss whether Stewart’s papers are in, what do I think they will say, have I reviewed her other documents, why am I so slow, why am I being so passive, why am I so polite to Stewart’s lawyer, have I ever meditated, it might help me loosen up and gain wisdom, and she has a great guru, his name is River, I should try him.
Perhaps I will call River. I wonder if he needs a Xanax after an hour with Liesel.
Here’s the thing about Liesel: if she displayed evidence of even a shred of humanity, she would be a real role model. The youngest (and first female) managing director ever at Constitution Bank, she helped guide it through an initial public offering, resulting in her being worth nearly nine figures by the time she was thirty-eight. Rather than rest on her laurels, she immediately started her own private equity fund. She works incredibly hard, and I’m pretty sure she’s fought for every achievement. (I am basing this on Lillian’s initial consult notes in the file on which she had written “SELF-MADE” in capital letters on the top of the page, circled three times, underlined six.)
Alas, Liesel has yet to display a shred of humanity.
I’ve managed not to scream at her so far, but I’m losing it. For about a week, I didn’t return her phone calls so promptly in the hopes of lowering her expectations about how responsive I could be. “Client Obedience-Training Basics,” Rachel called it. “Just like a new puppy.”
Liesel was clearly no new puppy. She responded by sending an e-mail to Lillian, CC’ing me, the gist of which was that she needed to talk and, for some reason, was having a lot of trouble reaching me. She hoped it wasn’t a pattern and that everything was okay.
I called her back within minutes.
Rachel and Liz both assure me that this is just part of the deal. Some clients are bullies, and some drive you crazy. Liesel is the whole enchilada—a crazy-making bully. My job, as I keep reminding myself, is to suck it up and take it.
I check my e-mail. Of course, there’s a message from Liesel to Lillian
“But I’ve told you fifty times. We didn’t include that clause for the cats. That clause was for the Internet matchmaking that Stewart wanted to do.”
I put my head in my hands for a moment before responding. “I know that, Liesel. We should win this, but we have to be strategic about it. It doesn’t make sense to fill the papers with a bunch of extraneous information about whether you nagged Stewart to take care of the cats or whether he took his own initiative. The judge won’t care.”
“Molly, how old are you?”
“What? How is that relevant?”
“No, you’re so hell-bent on telling me what to do. You need to answer my questions too. It’s quid pro quo here.”
Pause.
“Or maybe I should tell Lillian that you’re not able to handle my case.” She waits for that to sink in before repeating the question. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-nine, Liesel.”
“Well, I’m forty. You might have done a few more motions than I have, but I have eleven years on you. You don’t really know about life. Trust me. We need to talk about the cat care. We need to tell the judge that Stewart never remembered on his own. It says a lot about his character.”
I feel my blood start to simmer. I’ve been containing my anger at Liesel since our conversation a few weeks ago and the dam is breaking; I twitch a little, my knee bouncing quickly as I nibble at a jagged nail on my index finger. But I can’t tell off Liesel. What if she complains to Lillian about it? “Okay, Liesel. We’ll think about it. Let’s move on.”
12
____
the health benefits of smoking
S omehow, Liesel and I cobble together the motion by the return date. I get her to accept most of my revisions by pretending that they were Lillian’s ideas. But she still calls me daily—and often for over an hour—to discuss whether Stewart’s papers are in, what do I think they will say, have I reviewed her other documents, why am I so slow, why am I being so passive, why am I so polite to Stewart’s lawyer, have I ever meditated, it might help me loosen up and gain wisdom, and she has a great guru, his name is River, I should try him.
Perhaps I will call River. I wonder if he needs a Xanax after an hour with Liesel.
Here’s the thing about Liesel: if she displayed evidence of even a shred of humanity, she would be a real role model. The youngest (and first female) managing director ever at Constitution Bank, she helped guide it through an initial public offering, resulting in her being worth nearly nine figures by the time she was thirty-eight. Rather than rest on her laurels, she immediately started her own private equity fund. She works incredibly hard, and I’m pretty sure she’s fought for every achievement. (I am basing this on Lillian’s initial consult notes in the file on which she had written “SELF-MADE” in capital letters on the top of the page, circled three times, underlined six.)
Alas, Liesel has yet to display a shred of humanity.
I’ve managed not to scream at her so far, but I’m losing it. For about a week, I didn’t return her phone calls so promptly in the hopes of lowering her expectations about how responsive I could be. “Client Obedience-Training Basics,” Rachel called it. “Just like a new puppy.”
Liesel was clearly no new puppy. She responded by sending an e-mail to Lillian, CC’ing me, the gist of which was that she needed to talk and, for some reason, was having a lot of trouble reaching me. She hoped it wasn’t a pattern and that everything was okay.
I called her back within minutes.
Rachel and Liz both assure me that this is just part of the deal. Some clients are bullies, and some drive you crazy. Liesel is the whole enchilada—a crazy-making bully. My job, as I keep reminding myself, is to suck it up and take it.
I check my e-mail. Of course, there’s a message from Liesel to Lillian
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