A Fool For A Client

by Shawn Thompson

  I hadn't heard Robert enter the reception lounge. "Bye, Joan. Robert's here. Thanks for your help," I said.

  I stood and extended my hand to Robert. "Hi, Robert. I didn't think I was going to be able to see you."

  He grabbed my hand and gripped so hard his class ring scratched my palm. I don't know if he was glad to see me or nervous about why I was in the office because "I came out the minute I heard you were here."

  Robert had always been tall and thin, but he seemed to have aged years since in the last month. His face seemed craggier and his Adam's apple protruded more than ever. I imagine he'd been under a lot of strain from trying to deal with clients following Brad's death. I couldn't bring myself to feel any sympathy for Robert's plight, so I didn't say anything. He'd made his choice when he joined forces with Brad to force me out.

  He released my hand. "We shouldn't talk out here. Come back to my office."

  I followed him through the halls. My surprise continued because all of the secretarial desks outside partner offices were empty and none of the computers on their stalls were turned on.

  We entered Robert's office and I sat in one of the client chairs facing his desk. Even though smoking was banned in the building, the stench of cigarette smoke filled the air and an ashtray on the desk overflowed with unfiltered cigarette butts. Robert had stopped smoking ten years ago after his father died of lung cancer. Stress must really be eating him.

  He plopped in his black leather desk chair. "I can't tell you how tough the last few weeks have been," he said. "Trying to deal with Brad's death has drained me. By now the world knows what happened in France. It makes the whole firm look bad."

  I didn't say a word. He wasn't going to get any sympathy from me. As far as I was concerned, the whole firm deserved to look bad.

  "When I heard, I couldn't believe it. Do you know why?"

  I shook my head. My mind raced on what to say. Sometimes it's better to respond with a question. "I thought you might know."

  Robert swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He looked down at his desk and picked up a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the package against his desk. "I've got some ideas, but nothing I can talk publicly about yet."

  "Good, because I didn't come here to talk about that," I said. "I wanted to see about arranging for pickup of my desk and chairs."

  His head jerked up as if startled. "Those are firm property. You can't take them."

  How could he be so petty? I clenched my fists. "Surely you remember that Quincy's will left me all of his personal property at the office, which would have included that desk and those chairs."

  Robert swallowed and I was tempted to reach across the desk and grab his Adam's apple to keep it from its annoying bob. "How do you know Quincy didn't use firm money to buy them? Over the years we've all been given an allowance to furnish our offices. And no one's ever claimed their purchases as personal property. Those purchases have always been regarded as firm property, not personal property."

  I'd had enough. "You asshole. You know damn good and well that Quincy told everyone he bought that desk when he was solo. He didn't start the firm until years later. Are you going to sit there and deny that?"

  Robert pulled a cigarette out of the pack. "Most of the members of the firm weren't even here when Quincy died. I'd have a revolt on my hands if I just gave away that desk and chair to you."

  "That's your problem, not mine. Do you want me to have to sue the firm to get my desk and chairs?" After the news reports about France, I figured Robert wouldn't want the additional bad publicity of me suing to regain my personal property.

  Robert rocked back and forth in his chair, which was always a sign he was trying to think of a response when someone had him stumped. "I don't want that, Hobie. Let's compromise. I'll sell them to you at a fair price. That way no one will say I gave away firm property and you can have your precious desk and chairs."

  "Why should I pay for what's mine?

  "Because it's only your word if I can't remember Quincy ever telling anyone when he bought them."

  I counted to ten to keep from exploding. "You really are an asshole, Robert. How much?"

  Robert lit his cigarette, inhaled deeply, and let out a long puff of smoke. "Two thousand dollars."

  The smoke irritated my eyes. I started to counter. Two thousand dollars was an outrageous amount to pay for what was already mine, but I didn't want to bicker like a Turkish rug merchant. I wanted to get out of this smoke infested rat hole as soon as possible. "Fine, as long as it includes delivery."

  "Okay. I guess delivery to Mill Valley can't be too expensive," Robert said in a reluctant drawl.

  "Not Mill Valley," I said. "I'm looking for office space in the city. I'll have them delivered there."

  The crags in Robert's forehead deepened. "Office space?"

  "Yeah. I decided to go solo and open an office as soon as I can find space."

  Robert ground his cigarette in the ashtray. "You can't do that. Remember, you signed an agreement retiring from the firm. You'll receive your pension payments only if you abide by the non-compete clause."

  I didn't know how to respond. I'd been so upset when I left the firm that I never read the agreement before I signed it. I hadn't even bothered to take a copy with me. It never occurred to me that they'd insert a non-compete clause after getting rid of me because I didn't have any important clients. I'd go crazy if on top of everything else, I couldn't practice law. Perhaps, there was any easy solution. "That's no problem. I haven't been paid a cent of the money the firm owes me."

  Robert's Adam's apple bobbed. "Uh, we're having some minor cash flow problems, but you'll be paid soon. You have my word."

  So that's what was going on with all the changes: cash flow problems. The partners probably didn't have enough cash to take their full monthly allowances. That would cause a rebellion among the young partners who lived month to month on their allowances. If some had already left to join other firms and taken their clients with them, that would only create more cash flow problems.

  "I won't make things more difficult for you," I said. "Keep the money. I don't need it, but it sounds like the firm does. We each benefit that way. My payments don't drain the firm's cash flow and I have an office to go to everyday."

  Robert hunched forward and pointed a bony finger at me. "You'll get your money soon, and we will enforce the retirement non-compete."

  I couldn't believe his belligerence. "Why would you want to do that? You forced me out of the firm because you and your good buddy Brad didn't think I had any significant clients. Why would you care now if I agree to give up my severance pay? I'm no threat to L&P."

  Robert got up and opened the door to his office. "I think you'd better leave."

  Robert's attitude was irrational. If the firm was having cash flow problems, why would it want to pay an unreduced pension so that it could enforce a non-compete with someone whom they thought had no clients? I stood and headed towards the door. As I walked by Robert, he grabbed my shoulder. "I'm not joking, Hobie. Don't expect any sympathy because of what happened in France. We'll see you in court if necessary."

  I pushed his hand off my shoulder. "If that's the way you want it."

  All the way back to Mill Valley I wondered what was eating at Robert. Did he honestly view me as a threat to Lott & Pembroke? How could the most prestigious firm in San Francisco be worried about an ex-partner with no significant clients? I guess the stress of Brad's demise had affected Robert, and probably the firm's reputation, more than I imagined. Robert evidently couldn't handle the pressure of as the firm's senior partner and was cracking up.

  *

  When I told Keiko that night, she didn't seem too surprised. "Robert may be a faithful second in command who will complete any task he's given, but he's never had the savvy to be a leader. With Brad gone, he'll have to make decisions on his own, and your experience today sh
ows that his decisions only serve to make matters worse for the firm. At this point it sounds as if he's unstable enough to file suit if you open an office. He may think enforcing your agreement is a way to show the business community that despite what Brad did, the firm has maintained its sense of propriety. It made an agreement that it will abide by and you should too."

  Keiko usually saw things clearer than I did; but not this time. "I don't think Robert would sue me. I'll have to do some research, but if I remember correctly, it's tough to enforce a non-compete affecting a lawyer who leaves a firm. Under legal ethics, a client should always be able to choose his or her lawyer. Courts are loathe to force a client to be represented by an attorney not of the client's choosing. My guess is Robert knows that too and is just talking tough so he can tell the partners how he threatened me. He thinks that's how he can show the other partners the value of his leadership."

  Keiko rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  -5-

  The phone rang and pulled me out of my thoughts. I grabbed the receiver. "Hello."

  "Mr. Burrows, this is Georgia Pfals."

  "Please, call me Hobie." My stomach growled to remind me I hadn't eaten since last night.

  "Sorry for calling so early, but I've found a couple of office suites going on the market today. With the tight market in the financial district, they'll probably be gone before the day's over. If you want to look at 'em, we better hop to it this morning."

  Georgia was certainly a go-getter. I admired that. "Good work. When and where should I meet you?"

  "How soon can you get to Montgomery Street?"

  "Give me an hour. I'll meet you in the lobby of the Exchange Club." My stomach growled. "We can have a bite to eat and then look at the offices."

  *

  I don't know which chilled me more: the fog swirling off the Bay or the sight of the drab green entry awning with its faded gold letters - MONTGOMERY STREET EXCHANGE CLUB. I stopped in my tracks. The Club contained too many memories of Keiko. I should have thought of some other place to meet Georgia. A gust of wind rammed me in the back and thrust me forward. I wondered if it was a shove from Keiko telling me to get on with my life.

  I opened the door to the Club and hesitantly stepped onto the dun-brown carpet of the entry parlor. The Club's long-time assistant manager, Ramon, sat at the desk in the reception parlor wearing his rumpled green jacket. He stood the minute he saw me and scampered to greet me.

  "Mr. Burrows, I'm so sorry. She was such a nice lady. Is there anything I can do?" He blinked back a tear.

  Moments like this were the reason I'd wanted to remain a hermit. Keiko had always gone out of her way to talk to Ramon and treat him as more than a glorified doorman. He appreciated that and always treated her as someone special. I had no idea how to deal with his concern. "Thanks, Ramon. Just knowing that you care is enough."

  His lips quivered. "I'll never forget her."

  I had to change the subject or both Ramon and I might break down. "I'm supposed to meet a real estate agent, Georgia Pfals."

  He nodded. "Oh, I know Ms. Pfals. She meets a lot of her clients her. They say she's the best agent in the city."

  I looked around the parlor, but didn't see her. "Is she in the lobby waiting?"

  "No. But she's always punctual."

  I looked at my watch. I was ten minutes early. "Would you send her up to the breakfast bar when she arrives."

  "No need for that, Mr. Burrows. She's walking down the sidewalk now."

  I turned to look out the entryway. Georgia waved when she saw me and bustled inside. She extended her white-gloved hand. "Good to see you, Hobie. Glad you're a few minutes early. I've got the listings in my briefcase. I find it always helps to review the lease terms and rates before viewing the property. Gives you a better idea of what you want to be sure to look at and what questions to ask."

  "Let's find a seat in the lounge and see what you have to show me." I extended my arm.

  A smattering of people, none of whom I knew, sat in the lounge drinking coffee. I pointed at two leather club chairs in the far corner next to the redwood grandfather clock. "How about over there where we'll have some privacy."

  We sat down and she laid her Gucci briefcase on her lap. "The first listing is just a couple of blocks away." She unlatched the briefcase's snaps and pulled out a manila folder labeled "Burrows Law Office."

  I heard footsteps approach but didn't look up. I figured a waiter was coming to ask if we wanted coffee.

  "Hello, Georgia. Hello, Hobie."

  "Why hello, Jack," Georgia said. "It's nice to see you. Last time I saw you was at the Black and White Ball."

  I grimaced and looked up at the chubby face of Jack Fong. Brad, Robert, and Jack had been the members of the L&P management committee that had forced me out. Even though I'd billed more hours than any of them, Jack said I didn't pull my weight financially and that it didn't make sense for the firm to pay my draw. If Georgia hadn't been present, I might have told Jack exactly what I thought of him and where he could go.

  "Hello, Jack," I said out of politeness.

  Jack didn't bother to look at me. He was staring at the manila folder. "Robert told me you stopped by the office yesterday. You'd better think about what he said." He spun around and walked away.

  That was so typical of Jack. He couldn't even look at me while he threatened me and he left before I could respond.

  "What was that all about?" Georgia asked.

  "Nothing really. Seems the firm doesn't want me to reclaim my old desk and client chairs unless I pay for them." I didn't think Georgia needed to know about the non-compete clause. If it became a problem, I'd have to deal with it at the appropriate time.

  "I'm not surprised," she said. "The word on the street is that on top of all the bad publicity about Mr. Hale, the escalator clause in L&P's office lease kicked in at the first of the month. Their rent has more than doubled and most of Mr. Hale's clients have already taken their business to other firms. The remaining partners are really scrambling to retain clients, and not too successfully from what I hear."

  "I'd forgotten about that escalator clause," I said. "I told Brad it was stupid to agree to an escalator in exchange for a lower initial rent. If the rental payments did double, that will definitely eat into profits. And I'm not surprised Brad's clients show no more loyalty than he did." No wonder there'd been some changes in secretarial staffing.

  She leaned closer to me. "Plus, I heard a rumor about cash flow problems. Seems on top of everything else, someone made some hefty unauthorized withdrawals."

  If Georgia's rumors were true, Robert's attitude made even less sense. "That's too bad, but it's not my firm any longer," I said a little more angrily than I should have.

  She leaned back. "I understand. I promise not to mention them again."

  "Let's see those papers before we eat," I said.

  *

  The first office space was located in a row of old brick buildings only a couple of blocks from the Club. I'd always liked this area with its mixture of professional offices, antique shops, bookstores, and restaurants. The only drawback was that Keiko's wine shop was just around the corner. I didn't know how I'd handle walking by the shop on my way to and from the office.

  Georgia unlocked the door. The lease papers had said the space was unfinished, but that hadn't adequately prepared me. I walked into a five hundred square foot space with a concrete floor veined with cracks, brick walls gouged with nail holes, and exposed steel ceiling beams. A layer of construction dust covered the floor.

  "It needs a bit more work than I'd anticipated," I said.

  She pointed to the ceiling beams. "As you can see, the building was recently retrofitted for earthquake protection," she said cheerily. "You'd be the first tenant and would have a free hand at designing your space to your exact needs. With a little work, those brick walls would make a lovely office. And if you s
tain those concrete floors, they'd be perfect."

  A real estate agent has to be optimistic but this wasn't what I had in mind. "I think I'd like something a bit more traditional. Something I don't have to spend a lot of money fixing up."

  She put her papers back in her Gucci case. "I thought you might, so that's why we visited this space first. I just wanted you to know all your options."

  The next space was on the fifth floor of an office tower on California Street. The moment I opened the door and saw the plush orange and purple checked-carpet and a maze black partitioned cubicles, I knew I'd have a headache every moment I spent in it.

  "Who could possibly keep sane looking at this carpet all day?" I asked.

  Georgia burst out in laughter. "A software company started by a bunch of twenty year olds that designed games." She tried to stop laughing but broke out with the giggles again.

  "I'm sorry," she said in between her giggles. "I hadn't seen this space before. I guess the listing was correct when it said uniquely finished."

  I closed the door. "I think we can cross this one off the list. Keep on searching. I'm sure something will turn up," I said half-heartedly.

  She patted me on the shoulder. "Don't get discouraged. The market's tight, so be patient. I'll keep on searching. Something will eventually turn up."

  "Thanks. Call me when you've found something."

  *

  That night when I described the second office space to Keiko, she laughed almost as hard as Georgia had. "I bet some other young software developer sees that space tomorrow and is so impressed she takes it immediately. Probably will offer a premium to make sure no one bids higher."

  "You're probably right. Heaven knows, I'd pay almost any price to have my old office space transported out of L&P so I could rent it."

  Keiko's lips drew down. "You're starting anew, remember. Do you really want an office that looks just like your L&P office? Wouldn't that serve as a constant reminder of the past?"

  I thought for a moment. Was I trying to re-create the past by wanting my old desk and chairs and searching for office space that would look like L&P's? "I don't know. It might make the transition easier if I felt like I'd been in the office for a long time. Based upon what I saw today, though, I don't need to worry. I'll never find anything remotely similar to my old office."