Legal Reserves

by James Rosenberg

  Carl Shineen stood back from the group, dumbfounded by the amount they generated for the firm. “At least they are paying us decently.”

  “Decently?” Jack said mockingly. “We’re each getting four grand in salary each week. I suppose we’re doing okay, but think about it. Our salaries total eighty thousand every month, but that leaves over three hundred and fifty thousand. Where is all of the money going? Right into the partners’ pockets as we do the work and they sit in their well-appointed offices back home counting the cash.”

  The group pondered Jack’s conclusion. Carl Shineen gestured to the untouched boxes still stacked against the wall and said, “If we keep bullshitting like this, we may be stuck in Nebraska through the winter. I would like to sleep in my own bed someday, so let’s finish some more boxes.”

  The group retreated from their conversation and straggled back to their cubicles to continue the review of the endless supply of documents.

  Two hours passed before they gathered their belongings and left the trailer. After a quick change into attire more appropriate for a bar, the group of five reconvened at the NOB and took their usual spot near the window. A few regulars sat on the vinyl stools aligning both sides of the bar. A barkeep wearily refilled the patrons’ glasses. A gigantic moose head with a full set of antlers hung on the wall above the jukebox, stuffed and staring lifelessly over the small crowd, who were drinking whatever beer was on special. After ordering a round, the lawyers sat back to relax. The alcohol and conversation helped to diffuse the tedium of their routine.

  “Another day, another four hundred twenty-seven documents reviewed,” said Bill Pycheck, the only one in the group who ever said anything positive thing about their project and the time spent in Nebraska.

  “I stopped worrying about how many I logged a long time ago,” said Peggy Gamble, overweight, blonde, and the top student at her law school in North Carolina. “I realize now that I’m not where I thought I would be, but I do my work and by the end of the day, I’ve earned another eight hundred dollars−only thing getting me through those documents.”

  “They are starting to run together. Half the time I reflexively code them as ‘significant,’ so I won’t worry I missed anything,” said Vy Bock, a Romanian immigrant, with likely the highest IQ out of the lawyers present.

  Jack wanted the group to understand his point. “This has to end soon. We’ve been here four months and if we are here four more it will interfere with my plans.”

  “What plans?” Bill asked.

  Jack took a sip of beer and made sure everyone was paying attention. Staring Peggy in the eye, he pushed up the sleeves of his blue oxford jersey. “I am doing this because the partners told us we had no choice, but this is the last time I do their crap work again. This is for the bottom feeders, not for me.”

  “Where are you going to be the next time one of our clients tells us to review six million documents in Alaska?” Peggy retorted.

  “I’m going to be the one who sends you to the frozen tundra while I’m back at the office having lunch with the client and making money off your work. They pay us decently, but the partners aren’t doing any of the hard work, yet they extract a little bit of money from every hour we are working here. In a couple of years, I will send drones like you guys to review thousands of boxes of documents and I will take a little crumb from every minute you bill.”

  “You started at the firm about a year ago. How can you be so sure?” asked Carl Shinen, who was scruffy at the end of every day, with a tuft of chest hair peeking through the top of his shirt. At 26 years old, his head retained only a small portion of his curly hair. “Me, I’m not so sure of anything anymore. I thought working for a big law firm the women would come crawling after me. It’s hard to test that thesis when every woman at the NOB is over forty.”

  Jack ignored Carl’s personal complaint and responded to his original question. “Because I thought this through and understand how the game is played. My dad taught me a long time ago: it is not what you know, but who you know. I have spent a lot of time getting in with the people who are making decisions at the firm. Take Tyler Glass, the head of the transactional department. I had lunch with him and asked him to include me on any new mergers. He appeared receptive. Ed Wagner, the guy who got the huge verdict in the Gulf Oil matter twenty years ago, called me to his office a number of times. He says he wants to play golf with me. While you guys are reviewing documents, or researching the law for some memorandum you will spend three weeks writing that will be put at the bottom of a file and never read, I am making time with the decision makers at the firm.”

  The four other members of the group took in Jack’s statement with astonished silence.

  “Guys,” Jack began again, “I intend to make partner and make real money. I am not going to bill three thousand hours every year and only drive a Beemer. The mega-dollars are the only reason why we should be doing this crap. I’m meeting the partners. They will introduce me to their clients and in ten years the associates who are performing document review are going to be drinking a beer and talking about how they want to spend more time with me. It’s the circle of life, baby.”

  The others stared at Jack blankly. Jack held up his beer and his co-workers tentatively raised their glasses to clink. Their glasses touched, and Jack made them all say together, “Circle of life.”

  Chapter 8

  May 26, 2011−First Year of Law School

  THE SUN BLAZED down on the law school, the dark windows glistening with reflective heat. Nearly every member of the first-year class huddled outside the lecture hall where they had first met nine months earlier. Nervous chatter again rose through the room, but all eyes focused on the closed entrance doors. Every sound coming from inside the auditorium caused them to inch closer, but the doors remained unyielding.

  “Dammit, this is so nerve-racking,” Jeri said to Mike as they hung on the periphery of the masses. “Open the doors already.”

  Mike nodded and put a hand on Jeri’s arm. “This is nothing compared to finals. We’ve done all the hard work. We can’t change anything now. Although it might be fairer to everyone if they just mailed us our grades rather than putting us through this torture.”

  “Just one more way of testing us. It’s tradition. They post all of the grades in one room. Force everyone to come in at once to find their grades. We will have to listen to people like Selma Weingard crow about how great her marks are or watch others slink out the side door so they don’t have to talk about it. It’s just humiliating. Our first year wasn’t bad enough and now they put us through this just so we can find out how we did.”

  As they were commiserating, Maggie Conti, short and intense, approached with a nervous scowl on her face. “Where’s your third wheel? I thought the three of you were joined at the hip.”

  Mike flashed a dirty look. “Jack will be here any minute. He went for a run to let off some steam. Said he wanted to just show up and walk right in the room. By the way, what did you think of that Con Law final?”

  Maggie looked up to the ceiling and threw her hands in the air. “A complete ball buster is what it was. That last question−I typed for almost an hour. I spotted every possible issue in the fact scenario, or so I thought. Then I spoke with some people and they pointed out about six others I never considered. I suspect their analysis was crap, but they spotted more issues, so they win. I think I’m failing that one.”

  “I doubt it,” Mike responded. “Those tests are like marathons. It’s survival of the fittest.”

  “I’m sure you were just like us,” Jeri said to Maggie. “We had our study group. We spent weeks developing our outlines and quizzing each other. Mikey here was our expert in contracts. But we all had to take five finals in the span of two weeks. It’s just not humane. They treat us like animals.”

  “Yes, and waiting in this cattle call is our reward for doing such a good job,” Maggie sai
d as she walked away to join another group of friends.

  Jeri and Mike stood in silence, but saw no sign that the doors were about to open. “It was so nice what you did for Jack,” Jeri said.

  Mike stared quizzically at Jeri without responding.

  “The contracts final. You know what I’m talking about.”

  Mike didn’t say a word.

  “Come on. That night before the Contracts and Con Law finals−you were so ready for Contracts. At the study session, you led the discussion on adequate consideration and the measure of damages when a party breaches a contract. You said you needed to make one last push for Con Law. You wanted someone to help you study the proper scope of search and seizure and the limits of the Second Amendment’s right to bear arms. But Jack asked you for a last quick review of adequate consideration for contracts and the applicability of the Uniform Commercial Code. You agreed to help Jack and, four hours later, you and Jack left my apartment. You never got to do a Con Law refresher.”

  “I know, but it helped me to go over the contracts material again.”

  “I don’t think you needed it.”

  “We’ll see. I just hope I did well enough. My dad probably doesn’t think I will do particularly well, but I guess after my performance in college, he might have reason to doubt me.”

  “You’re going to do just fine.”

  Mike suddenly flew forward a couple of steps after being pushed by Jack who had appeared from nowhere. Jack laughed. “Oops, I slipped.” Mike ran his hand quickly through his hair and tried to appear as if nothing happened.

  Jack smiled broadly. “I see they haven’t opened up the doors to Oz yet. How’s the tension level?”

  “Pretty high,” said Jeri. “I think they are keeping the windows locked.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting my grades and my invitation to Law Review.”

  “Pretty cocky Jack,” said Jeri. “You know only the top ten percent get invited to join the Review.”

  “Yup. I’m better than top ten percent.”

  Mike smacked Jack on the back of his head. “What an arrogant ass.”

  “I need to be on the Law Review so the big firms will want to interview me.”

  “You know there are other jobs in the legal field than just working for some big firm?”

  “There are? That’s news to me.” Jack preened for his friends, who turned their backs on his gesticulations.

  As Jack was finishing his performance, the imposing metal doors at the bottom of the lecture hall swung open and a petite woman emerged. “Hey, it’s your buddy, Ms. Andrews, the friendly neighborhood registrar,” Mike whispered to Jack. She raised her hand and waited for the crowd to calm.

  Once everyone quieted, she spoke. “Your scores for all of your classes are posted next to your student identification number. I placed a list at the far end of the lecture hall by the ID number of those who will receive automatic invitations to join the Law Review. Please take your time and please respect the feelings of your fellow classmates.”

  She stepped aside before thirty students pushed and shoved their way through the small door. The rest waited until a little space opened up before entering. Loud cheers and an occasional moan emanated from inside the classroom.

  After waiting a few minutes, Jeri, Mike, and Jack entered, but split up, allowing each other to gather their individual grades without having to display false sensitivity in reacting to the scores their friends received. They met again in the hallway after viewing their grades.

  Jack spoke first: “We don’t need to compare if you don’t want to, but sooner or later we’ll find out what everyone got. I’d rather you guys found out from me than from the grapevine.”

  “I agree,” Jeri said, “I’ll go first.” She glanced down at her notes and informed the two others she’d received A’s in Torts and Civil Procedure, a B plus in Criminal Law and B’s in Con Law and Contracts.

  “You did so well,” Mike said, trying to be supportive, yet overcome with a tinge of guilt, knowing his grades were higher.

  Jeri looked at Mike. “Play your cards, big guy,”

  “I got A’s in Torts, Contracts and Criminal Law. An A minus in Civ Pro and a B plus in Con Law.” Mike accepted Jeri’s congratulations after she embraced him. He turned to his other friend. “Okay, Jack your turn.”

  Jack triumphantly pulled out his notes and announced he’d received A’s in Contracts, Torts and Con law, an A minus in Civil Procedure and a B plus in Criminal Law. “We got the same grades,” he said, grinning at Mike, “three A’s, an A minus, and a B plus. Not bad, I must say.”

  A small wave of heat spread over Mike’s face as he realized Jack’s statement was inaccurate. “We got the same grades, but in different courses.” He squinted as he tried to make the calculation. “Your worst grade was in Criminal Law, which is a four-credit course; mine was in Con Law, a six-credit course. If I am correct, your scores are a little bit better.”

  Jeri patted Mike on the back. “Guys, you did amazingly. Did either of you check if you made Law Review?”

  Mike and Jack considered each other self-consciously and shrugged their shoulders.

  “Go, you morons. I’ll wait here and when you return we can celebrate how smart both of you are.”

  A few minutes later, the boys returned with Mike draping an arm around Jack’s neck. Mike spoke first. “Amazing news, Jack made Law Review.”

  Jeri grabbed Mike’s wrist. “And what about you?”

  Mike’s eyes couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I wasn’t on the list.” Jeri put her arms around Mike as he sunk his head onto her shoulder. Jack excused himself to go to the bathroom. When they were alone, Jeri expressed her frustration.

  “Damn, Mike, that sucks. He must have been the last person who made it and you missed by percentage points. I’m so sorry.”

  Mike hung his head momentarily, upset because he viewed making the Law Review as validation of all of his hard work. To be so close unexpectedly hurt.

  Jeri turned to him again. “I feel so bad for you. You helped Jack so much in Contracts, I bet you raised his grade from a B to an A. I wonder if you got the chance to make that last Con Law push if it would have made any difference.”

  Mike let the question hang, because the same issue was bouncing around in his head.

  After a few moments, Mike’s spirits lifted. He turned to Jeri. “I’m fine. I did a lot better than I expected. Certainly better than my dad thought I would do. I still have next year to get onto Law Review.”

  Chapter 9

  May 26, 2011, First Year of Law School

  AFTER GETTING THEIR scores, Jeri, Jack, and Mike hurried out of the law school into the fading sunlight. The intolerable stress of first year, building for nine months, vanished with the knowledge they would ultimately become lawyers. Not muddle their way through, but actually do well in their classes, with a chance of having successful legal careers.

  “They can’t break us. We made it,” Jeri yelled as she skipped backwards down the sidewalk, facing her two friends.

  Mike felt the fading sunlight on his face and responded, “No more Socratic Method this summer. I can start thinking like a human again and not analyze every situation from every angle.”

  Jack smacked Mike on the back of his head and ran further ahead. “They may have broken us down, but we survived. We’re going to Loopers and celebrate.”

  They entered the bar and spied a few of their classmates at tables in the back, but wanted to avoid them. They grabbed a table away from the crowd. Throwing their backpacks under the high-top table, Jack motioned to a waitress and ordered them a pitcher of beer. None of them cared what type they drank as long as it was cold and kept coming.

  The coolness of the mug in his hand relaxed Mike. “Congratulations to us. We made it through our first year of law school.” They clinked their m
ugs and laughed as froth sloshed over the rim of their glasses onto the table.

  Taking a generous swig and gagging slightly, Jeri announced she was still unable to drink beer, especially in the quantities of her two friends. She put her mug down and glared intently at Jack and Mike. “I love hanging with the two of you. You made our first year bearable and I will always be grateful.” Again they raised their mugs.

  “It was an amazing year, guys. I enjoyed spending time with you much more than I would have with the other bastards in our class,” Jack said, tossing his head over his shoulder towards the others in the bar. Jack gave a sly smile. “I was actually waiting for the two of you to thank me for getting you through all of your classes.”

  He sat back, looking smug, enjoying his joke, but Jeri flashed annoyance and said, “C’mon Jack, you may be joking, but I don’t find it funny. We all helped each other. The entire year we had each other’s backs through those horrible times when we had to spend all night briefing cases and thinking we were going to die. Don’t make fun of it. We needed each other.”

  Jack looked wounded, but Jeri continued. “You’re pissing me off. I expect more out of my friends. I assume you do too.” She stared at Jack. “Don’t be a shithead. Mike babied you through Contracts and got you an ‘A.’ You never could have done it by yourself. Do you realize he never really got a chance to study Con Law? You ended up with better grades than him−by the tiniest amount−but you did it only because he helped you. You make Law Review and he barely misses it. You need to acknowledge what he did for you and not make jokes.”

  “Jeri stop, it’s not a big deal,” Mike interjected. Turning to Jack he said, “You don’t have to say anything, I’m okay with how things turned out. Now you will do all of that extra work on Law Review and I’ll enjoy so much more free time.”