Page 14 of Filthy Lawyer

I stood up from the table. “Make sure to stop by reception on your way out to get your parking validated.”

“I’m giving you the case of the century on a silver platter, Mr. Carter,” she said. “If people can plagiarize tweets, what’s next?Books?”

“You honestly believe no one has ever plagiarized a book before?”

“I’m thinking of all the authors you’ll save if you take on my case.” The crazed look in her eyes was scaring the hell out of me. “We need to sue this lady so deep into hell that people will google the word ‘the’ before using it.”

I stepped out of the room as she continued to rage, debating whether to call my contact at the psych department.

Luckily for her, Jessica messaged me about returning to the interview room.

When I stepped inside, Andrew was staring straight ahead and looking as dejected as I felt.

“Was your first interview that bad?” I sat next to him.

“‘Bad’ would’ve been acceptable,” he said. “I believe we’re going about this process all wrong. Maybe we should fire everyone in Human Resources and make the new team put up with this.”

“You’d have to fire Jessica to make that possible.”

He looked like he was considering the idea, but I knew that would never happen.

Batshit crazy or not, she was as much a part of this firm as we were.

Before I could tell him about my disaster of an “emergency client,” the next applicant—a grey-suited guy from Yale—walked into the room.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hardman,” I said. “Welcome to the firm. I’m Damien Carter and this is Andrew Hamilton.”

“We’re so thrilled to meet you.” Andrew didn’t try to sound convincing. “Why should we consider you to work at our firm?”

“Well…” He took a seat. “I personally think I could make your reputation around this town a bit more likable.”

“Likable?”

“Man to man,” he said, “I mean, man tomen, every firm in this city despises you, and I think it’s because from the outside looking in, you’re way too cocky about being number one.”

Andrew and I exchanged glances, and Mr. Hardman slid one of our business cards down the table.

“Like this thing,” he said. “The business card literally says, ‘Welcome to the firm’ and nothing else, as if you’re the only firm in town. There’s not even a phone number on it.”

“I designed those cards,” I said. “Our clients seem to find us without any trouble.”

“Understandable, butmygeneration is the social media generation. We need to feel connected beyond the business. We want to feel like you care about us long after the money is exchanged. We want you to comfort us whenever—”

“Get out,” Andrew and I spoke in unison.

“What?”

“Now,” we spoke in unison again, and he glared at us before leaving the room.

“Hmmm.” I picked up the business card and stared at it. “Do you like our cards?”

“Iloveour cards.”

“Should we add our contact information?”

“I told you to do that years ago.”

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t do it.”

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