Thank you for everything and for being prepared to give me a chance. I have thought it through and I have concluded that I am not ready for the pressure to meet your billing and business development expectations. After having been subjected to the internal politics at Solomons and having been out for the market for so long, I have lost some confidence. I think the route that is mapped out for me at P&W will enable to me to get back into the market with less pressure. I am sorry if you are disappointed now but I would hate for you to be even more disappointed later. Don’t be mad at me please.
Chloé.
3. She Works Hard for the Money
On Monday, 1 May 2016, my first official day at Pratt & Wonkey, I arrived in the office just before 8.30 a.m. After depositing my bag and switching on the computer I found my way to the tea & coffee room and examined the coffee machine. It had various buttons - espresso, cappuccino, coffee short, long, with or without milk, with or without sugar. That looked promising. I pressed the buttons for cappuccino, extra strong, no sugar. The machine ground the beans and spat the liquid into my Starbucks New York mug. I had brought it from home when a glance into the room’s cupboards on the previous Friday had shown me a vast selection of only chipped and faded mugs.
“Mornin’.” Michael strutted into the room, holding a mug in his hand. “You’re early,” he declared.
“Good morning, Michael. Well, the girls have to be in school by eight. The office is on my way back,” I explained what he already knew.
He grunted, took some coffee from the thermos (which I had already tried and immediately had poured down the drain) and marched out again. “See ya.”
It did not sound unfriendly. Before I could reply he had turned the corner. My mobile rang. I checked the display and answered: “I knew it could only be you at this early hour!”
“Well, good morning to you, too, Ms. Krakowski!” Patricia’s voice shouted into the loud speaker of her car phone. “How’s the fun factory? Is my husband treating you well?”
“Actually, I’m in the tea & coffee room and he was just here to get a coffee. He seems to have been in for a while.”
“Sure - I do the school run, so he can be in the office early. Doesn’t mean he will be home before nine or ten.”
“Yeah, I know. Well, I have to be home at eight at the latest to take over from Jana and there is no way I can leave any earlier than seven thirty. I think people here are expected to stay until at least eight, if only to demonstrate presence and eagerness.” I whispered the last bit.
Patricia let out a short laugh. “Do you remember how the guys at Howard Hewitt would leave their desk lamp and PC switched on, files open on the desk and a jacket hanging over the back of the chair?”
“I do! I think it’s the same here. Apart from the fact that this is rather silly and a complete waste of electricity, I am hardly going to leave any item of my lovely and expensive wardrobe in the office. As you may remember, I need to leave my desk in order or, even better, cleared so that it can be cleaned properly and I can start the next day fresh and newly inspired. I know I’m a bit neurotic.”
“A bit? I don’t know about a bit!” Patricia laughed. “I am so glad I don’t have to do this anymore. Anyway, I just called to ask you and Hugo to dinner this Saturday. I want to have a nice proper dinner before all those football parties start next month. Are you free?”
“Oh - great idea! I’ll check with him, but I think that works. Can we bring anything?”
“No, don’t worry. Just be there at about seven thirty. You can bring the girls and they can watch Madagascar with the boys. I’m going to buy the DVD.”
“They’d love that, thanks! Now I better get to work.” I spotted two secretaries walking by.
“Okey-dokey! Have fun!”
I checked my watch. It was nearly 9 a.m. If I reduced my lunch break to a maximum of thirty minutes it would leave me about ten and a half hours, which I could fill with chargeable work. Nobody was going to be able to accuse me of working less just because I was a mother of two. In addition, there were still a few hours left after the children went to bed. On the other hand, it was very important to spend that hour between 8 and 9 p.m. with the girls as well as trying to keep quality time at the weekend for the girls, of course. The previous of which Tracey had nearly spoiled. I had worked all night Friday until the early hours of the morning and again on Saturday night after I had put the girls to sleep in the evening. Tracey had received her document at exactly two minutes before midnight. I was dead tired but at least I had been able to spend the day with Noëlle and Marie.
As I walked back from the tea and coffee room, I passed by the office adjacent to mine and briefly stopped for a peek. It looked like utter chaos inside. There were piles of papers and documents on the floor. The desk looked as if a hurricane had swept over it: opened books, files, sheets of paper unstapled and highlighted in yellow or edited in blue, note pads, tea mugs, pencils were lying around. I shuddered. I wouldn’t be able to stand that mess for five minutes. The chair was still empty. I glanced at the plaque outside the door. Jacob Wronski. The name rang a distant bell.
I went into my office, sat down and looked at the monitor while carefully taking a sip of the hot cappuccino - extra strong, no sugar. I shuddered again. It tasted like a mix of dust and water plus a bit of stale coffee squeezed through an old sock. I put the mug aside and clicked on the internal mails.
--- original message ---
From: Taylor, Tracey: BK (FR)
To: Krakowski, Chloe: BK (FR)
Re: Amendment Agreement
Hi Chloe,
Thanks for this. I will review and we can have a chat on Monday. Have a good weekend.
Tracey
The email had been sent on Sunday morning at 0.02 a.m. Goodness. Either she slept with her blackberry under her pillow and had turned on the audio alert for incoming mails or she really had sat by her laptop all night. I sent her a brief reply along the lines of “anytime, whenever it is convenient for you” and started to look through the files, which Jerome had placed on my desk.
Sometimes I asked myself what I was doing in this job. Staring at the monitor all day and either reading a document, typing or speaking on the telephone, or everything at once - this had little to do with the picture I had had in my mind since childhood. My mind wandered back to when I was about nine years old. One evening, by my bedside, my mother told me about her father whom she had never met - shortly after her birth, he fell in the war in Russia. He had been a lawyer with a promising career as a judge. She showed me some faded black and white photos of a young, attractive man with short black curls and a self-confident smile. His face showed intelligence and determination.
“Mummy, when I grow up, I’ll be a lawyer!” I declared. “I want to go to court and fight for justice!”
She hugged me tenderly. “Yes, that’s exactly what you will do, my little doll. I know it.”
And somehow I knew it, too. A few years later I watched a black and white movie on TV - Witness for the Prosecution, a courtroom drama set in the Old Bailey directed by Billy Wilder based on a play by Agatha Christie. Tyrone Power plays the part of a man charged with the murder of a rich old widow. Marlene Dietrich plays his German wife who is to exonerate him and Charles Laughton plays his defence barrister - the old, sick, rotund, grumpy and brilliant Sir Wilfried Robarts. I was fascinated, not by the beautiful charismatic murderer or his mysterious wife, but by the clever, rhetorically brilliant and shrewd Sir Wilfried. Wearing the black barrister’s gown and white horsehair wig he sits rather casually in court and sips on a cup of tea from a thermos flask which his nurse has prepared for him and which he has secretly spiked with brandy. But as soon as the prosecuting counsel makes a mistake during his examination of a witness, he jumps up and coolly states his objection. Then he rises for the cross-examination of the housekeeper and with
a few sentences reduces the witness to utter incredibility. That is what I wanted to be, exactly that! Wearing a white horsehair wig, the gown streaming behind me, and being a brilliant orator! Not old, fat and sick, but beautiful, like Marlene Dietrich. I wanted it all.
Right now I was further away from that dream than at the beginning of my career, when I was indeed working as a barrister in London. Instead of working in old venerable chambers I sat in a skyscraper and made use of my talent for verbal reasoning by drafting two hundred-page credit agreements based on standard precedents. Most of the time, all that it took was to reflect the commercial terms correctly - such as the interest rate, duration and security for the loan etc. - and to adapt the provisions to the context of the transaction. Sometimes, however, an unexpected commercial or legal issue required the careful and creative drafting of a new provision covering all eventualities. That was fun. I would then not be able to let go until I had it absolutely right. When negotiating the point with my counterparties, I would apply a mixture of logical reasoning and charm, which, on the whole, worked very well. At least, it had until now. I felt that Tracey was yet to be convinced of me and that I would have to work hard to gain her trust.
* * *
“Hi Chloé, how are you? Did you have to work all weekend?” Jessica was standing in the door later that morning, as I was ploughing my way through the documents.
“Hi Jessica - well, almost. It was a bit of a late night effort but I sent Tracey the draft just before midnight on Saturday. That might have been too late for her. I haven’t spoken to her yet.”
Jessica frowned. “Well, technically it was still Saturday night when you sent it to her. And anyways, it’s a question of principle, right? She shouldn’t ask you at such short notice to work all of Saturday.”
“As long as she’s happy with it. How about you - did you have to work yesterday?”
“Yeah. We had a conference call with those clients I told you about. But at least I could do that from home. David had to come into the office.”
“Poor you. You may have told me already - which partner does he work for?”
“Francis Mayer. He is very demanding of his associates and works all the time himself. But if all goes according to plan, David should be made partner the year after next.”
“Wow. He is quite young, isn’t he?” So Byrd was Mayer’s special prodigy. Interesting.
“Thirty-three. But it’s what he wants. So we definitely won’t be getting married before then.” She curled her lips. Byrd’s working hours and the effect on their relationship seemed to a sensitive topic.
“Hey, don’t expect any marriage advice from me - I’m in the middle of a divorce!” I joked.
A tall dark-haired man appeared behind Jessica. “Hello, Ms. Krakowski. Hi, Jessica.”
I looked at him with a question mark. “Hello?”
“I’m Jacob Wronski - I have the office next door.” He offered to shake hands. “We kind of have met already.”
“Right.” I struggled to remember him.
“The Australian Gas transaction? December 2001? You were at Solomons then. We spoke on the phone a few times. I work with Gunther White.” He seemed disappointed and probably thought I was a stupid arrogant cow.
I did remember the transaction very well and also that P&W was on the other side but thought that I had only dealt with White. Wronski must have been very junior at the time. I quickly glanced him over. He was tall, had large blue eyes and his suit was well cut. He was not as gorgeous as Hugo but there was something about him. I smiled at him.
“Of course - Australian Gas! Such a messy deal, and just before Christmas! What a coincidence that we are now office neighbours. By the way, I thought associates were on first name terms.”
He grinned. “Yes that’s correct. So, a warm welcome from the other side of the wall; if you need anything just let me know.”
“Very kind of you, thanks!” I followed him with my eyes as he left the room.
Jessica raised her eyebrows.
“You really do know a lot of people in the legal world!”
“Yeah, I guess. The asset finance market is small and the number of specialised lawyers a mere handful,” I explained. “Gunther White is one of them. But I never met him personally,” I whispered and pointed my right thumb behind me towards the wall which I shared with Wronski’s office. I did not want him to be able to hear us.
“Oh you will get to know him - he is quite a character.”
“Is he? I am intrigued.”
“No, not like a womaniser. He does tend to make a lot of sexist jokes, but I don’t think he means them. You kind of know that, underneath it all, he is a decent guy.”
“Hm. I remember now in that transaction we had a call at least once and he did seem nice. Anyway - his room is a mess.”
“That’s not that unusual - have you seen some of the others? Actually, mine is not that tidy either - although I try! Yours looks spic-and-span though.”
“I need to have my room tidy - it makes me feel more balanced and calm.”
“And your outfit is, again, impeccable! I love that suit - is it Armani?”
“No, it’s actually vintage Alberta Ferretti. In my case, that means it’s about three years old,” I laughed. “I’m afraid I’m a bit of a fashion addict. Shoes, bags, you name it. I can get quite gaga over a handbag.” I rolled my eyes.
“I think you look amazing! I would be thrilled if you gave me some fashion advice - I am so useless sometimes!” She looked down at her suit.
“Not that you need it but, of course, with pleasure. I must warn you though. When friends ask me to help them clothes shopping, it usually leads to an excessive use of their credit card!”
“Oh I’m fine with that! Maybe we can do a little bit of shopping at lunchtime some day.” Jessica glanced at her watch and startled. “Shoot, I nearly forgot - Tracey asked me to ask you to join the conference call we have with Frank Smith at one!”
“Sure, no problem. What’s it about?”
“It’s a really complex real estate finance transaction we have been working on for a couple of years. To start with we represented the banks and now, at the refinancing stage, we represent the investor, a private equity group based in the U.S. who are investing in German real estate. The loan is over two billion Euros, made in various tranches to a large group of special purpose German companies and partnerships set up by the investor. These entities together purchase a portfolio of over a thousand buildings and apartments, which were sold by local authorities in German cities like Frankfurt and Hannover. I think Frank is the only one who has a complete overview.”
“Is there anything I should read beforehand?”
“Tracey didn’t say. And honestly, I wouldn’t know where to tell you to start. Which reminds me again - I better go and prepare for this call. No chance of getting any lunch in before the call.” She screwed up her face. “I’ll pick you up just before one,” she said and disappeared through the sliding door.
* * *
Three hours later Tracey, Jessica and I were still sitting in Frank Smith’s office for the conference call. So far, it had been about very specific real estate and corporate law questions. Smith had spoken most of the time. Tracey and her team were to discuss any issues that might have an impact on the English law credit agreement. Whilst Jessica had been scribbling away on her notepad I had tried to follow the call despite lacking any knowledge of the background. After a while my mind had started wandering and I had to make a big effort not to fall asleep, to still look interested and nod knowingly from time to time when any financing-related aspects were addressed.
I was startled when I heard my name mentioned. “Ms. Krakowski, you should know, being a trained barrister.”
Smith looked at me expectantly. Oh shit. I had not been listening. I smiled
nonchalantly. “Which aspect in particular do you have in mind?”
“The interpretation of the term gross negligence,” replied Smith. “Is there a precise difference to negligence?”
I opened my mouth to respond when Tracey cut me short. “Actually Chloé doesn’t practise at the Bar anymore. We will ask the litigation department in London and get back to you after the call.” She turned her attention back to her blackberry.
“Indeed, you are right,” I continued, turning to Smith. What the heck? This was not an issue of procedural laws. “English civil law does not distinguish between gross and simple negligence. Either you breach the standard of the reasonable man or not.”
Jessica nodded in agreement. Tracey continued to type a message into her blackberry. Smith seemed satisfied and turned to the speakerphone. “So, Ms. Krakowski also says that there is no difference.”
“It would do no harm in this case, though, to add the word gross, if you feel more comfortable with it,” I added. Jessica had quickly shown me the relevant provision of the credit agreement.
“Ok thanks, that’s really helpful.” The client’s voice sounded metallic.
Tracey suddenly leaned forwards towards the speaker. “That’s fine, Jack - please let us know if you need any further details.”
I stared at her. Maybe I had been a bit too forward. Ultimately, she was the boss. It seemed that in order to make any progress in this job, I would have to play the role of the good associate - no, senior associate, if you please.
The call was over.
“We should send Jack a memo about the issues we discussed, especially the point about the hereditary building rights,” Tracey said.
“Fine, good idea.” Smith was absently leafing through a statute book.
“Why don’t you prepare that, Chloé?” Tracey asked me innocently.
“Uhm, uh - sure. I’ll have a go.”
“That would be very helpful. Do send it to me first. I’ll have a look at it.” Smith seemed grateful.
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