He looked at Amandine.
“Totally,” Amandine said. “I’d take a bullet for you. Heck, I’d take two.”
“My job,” Andy said, “as your lawyer, is to be an officer of the court and to vigorously—”
Anton raised his head at Andy as if they were both about to drown and only Anton knew how to swim while Andy flailed about, expending his breath uselessly.
“I’d take a bullet for you.” Andy nodded. “I, I would.”
Mike looked at Hannah and me. Hannah and I stared blankly at Mike and said nothing.
“They’ll do whatever they’re told,” Amandine said.
“They always do,” Andy said.
“An acquaintance,” Anton told us, “needs a week’s internship at a law firm over the December holidays. She’s a law school student.”
There was silence until the partners understood that they were being ordered to accept Anton’s friend over the December holidays.
“Yeah, absolutely,” Andy said. “That would be great, and it would be just great to have her with us. We’ll, we’ll pay her an associate’s salary, prorated, and, and when she does great, we’ll give her a prorated mini bonus—”
“She’ll be under my wing.” Amandine nodded. “I really see it as my job to mentor up-and-coming women. And we’ll take her to lunches at all the great restaurants in the city and to whatever else she wants to do.”
“Another thing,” Mike said. “From now on, you never contact us. You don’t call us, you don’t write to us, you don’t send us messages. You just don’t reach out to us. You never mention us on your website or anywhere else, and you never ever give any statement implying a relationship with us. You or anyone at this firm. If you need to reach us, send a blank text message from any of these phones to the number stored in the contacts. Subject line of your text message is ‘CWP.’ No content. We’re always aware of what you’re doing. It’s for everyone’s safety.”
Mike put three blue phones on the conference table.
“How long before I see an initial draft of my code?” Anton asked.
“Twelve weeks?” Larry pleaded.
“Six.” Anton sniffed.
“By the way, Anton,” Larry said, “do you want us to pursue the claims the informants made against you in the Herald?”
Anton shot a glare at Larry—the kind that commanded someone to wound himself.
Larry dropped his head and nodded.
The next morning, there were ads for the CWP on the billboards on my way to drop off Jon and Nate. I wasn’t sure whether it was the billboards or the pregnancy with the twins, but I was feeling a little nauseous. I’d skipped breakfast that morning, and I remembered that I’d had morning sickness with Jon but not with Nate. With Jon, I had often thrown up as well. I was also so worried that the nausea might harm me and the pregnancy that I’d taken time off work, which my OB-GYN said was really up to me because both Jon and I were doing well, though I seemed a little stressed from work and my pregnancy.
I was also a little “frisky” when I was pregnant with Jon, but Mauru was so afraid of hurting the baby that he refused to be intimate with me until we both sat with my OB-GYN, who explained that the muscles of the uterus and other parts of my deliciousness prevented any harm from occurring during intimacy.
The first billboard I saw on my way to work that morning had the California bear in the background and an interracial family in the foreground. The mother and father were toasting each other with what looked like glasses of sparkling water. Their children, a boy of no more than eight, a girl of no more than six, and the baby that the father held in his left arm, were all smiling happily. They all wore blue and green. At the bottom of the ad were the words in bold: “The California Water Party Will Protect Your Future. We Need Your Advice and Help. Please Join Us.”
Just a few miles ahead was another billboard with images of the dust storm as it reached downtown San Diego, where some people fled indoors, and others curled over on sidewalks, coughing and crying, almost in horror. In the top left-hand corner was a faint imprint of the extinct California Grizzly. In the center of the ad were the words in bold: “Want Something Better for You and Those You Love? We Demand Better. We Need Your Advice and Help. Please Join Us. The California Water Party.”
About a mile before I reached WS&X, there was an electronic billboard just after the traffic lights. First came the Star-Spangled Banner waving in the wind on a split screen with an image of the Declaration of Independence. Then came two questions on the next screen. “Like Your Car?” When that question faded away as if dissolving in water, the next question came: “Like Your Phone?” When that question faded away, came the answer: “Climate Change Will Take Them Away Unless We Act Now.”
On the next screen was a young couple wearing green and blue swimsuits surfing the bluest wave I’ve ever seen. The image was so captivating that I hadn’t noticed that the traffic light had changed to green, but it seemed that those behind me hadn’t noticed either or they were too engrossed in whatever it was, so I stared at the caption on that screen, too: “Enjoy California Dreaming? Help Us Keep the Dream Alive. We Need Your Advice and Help. Please Join Us. The California Water Party.”
At work, interviewees came in for all the new Hoviak business.
Hannah and I sat in on all the interviews conducted by Larry, Andy, and Amandine. They said that Hannah and I provided different perspectives on the hiring process. I, however, was primarily there to take notes.
WS&X had a few hundred attorneys, and while there were many equity partners other than the name partners, if you wanted to know what was happening at any given point, you had to know what was going on with Larry, who was the managing partner, and he ran the firm each day. Amandine and Andy, whose names were also on the letterheads, also knew what was going on, but Larry was all-powerful.
You’d hear the male partners’ names yelled down the corridor, and they’d come running, men in their thirties and forties, who talked of football, baseball, and women like they were all interchangeable infatuations. They’d say, “Yes, Larry.” “No, Larry.” “Sure, Larry.” “That makes sense, Larry.” “Whatever you need, Larry.”
One male partner, married with kids, Larry naughtily called “Lady Frolics” because he’d been caught reading fashion magazines in the refreshment suites while ballroom dancing on his own to some classical music on his phone. The same partner had a reputation for calling women “broads” and “honeys.”
When they heard that Larry had brought all the Hoviak business to the firm, the male partners—almost all the partners were male—lined up outside Larry’s office to pay mandatory tribute.
“Totally awesome, Larry!”
“You rock, man!”
“You’re the man, Larry!”
“You’re a genius, Larry Wagon!”
“The best lawyer in America, Larry!”
“We’re all so lucky to work for a guy like you, Larry!”
“When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Larry Wagon!”
My favorite response to the Hoviak news came from the one mischievously called “Lady Frolics.” He bought Larry a bottle of Zanzivahl Bubbly 2014 and a beautiful box of Zanzivahl Gold-Coated Chocolate.
“What the fuck is this!” Larry shouted as I ran into Hannah’s office, and we laughed until we cried. “You’re serenading me now?”
Those words, “You’re serenading me now,” were such a comfort to me every time a male partner passed my desk because, as guilty as I sometimes felt about it, it was so good to see those men who totally ignored me get their due from Larry Wagon.
The first interviewee for a Hoviak position was an attractive, big-boned young lady, who had graduated second in her class at Condorvine. She also had unusually large feet, which were quite noticeable. Her name was Bertha.
Bertha seemed unsure of herself, the way self-conscious people are insecure, and she made the mistake of consistently apologizing and asking for validation after she gave
a response.
If she’d done her research, Bertha would have learned that WS&X only asked fourteen questions, most of which were clearly illegal, but no one worried about that since the partners knew that those who got hired wouldn’t complain, and those who got rejected wouldn’t complain either because applicants were afraid of being branded “troublemakers” by other law firms and the legal profession at large.
“The law,” Larry once said, “is both the only self-regulating profession and also the only profession that regulates every other profession. If we hate you, we’ll use our contacts to make your life hell.”
Unlike at other law firms, at WS&X interviewees didn’t go from office to office answering questions until day’s end. All questions were asked in one sitting, and you knew at the end of the interview whether WS&X would be making an offer because Larry, Amandine, or Andy either shook your hand (the job was yours) or they thanked you for your time and opened the door (it wasn’t).
“How you all doing today?” Bertha asked.
Larry started with question one: “When you die, what do you want your tombstone to say?”
Bertha was clearly offended by this question. Her jaw dropped, and she blinked fast many times. It was a question, however, that everyone received at some point during the interview. Bertha breathed deeply then said, “First of all,” before apologizing for “the little pause there.” She told us she was too young to die. “Was that a good answer?” she wondered.
Larry was not amused.
Question two (Amandine): “If a client used a slur against you, what would you say?”
Bertha tried to smile and fidgeted about in her seat before asking if it would be OK if she “took a little sip of the water on the table” before answering. She then opened a bottle of water and took a gulp.
Faux pas.
Larry and Amandine considered this gesture bad manners because an applicant shouldn’t be consuming the firm’s resources before she was on the payroll, and even then, she had to earn the right to do so. Didn’t Bertha know that water was a precious commodity?
Question three (Andy): “Let’s say you have a choice between making a quick call to a client with your research results and putting everything down in writing first so that the work product is spotless before you send an e-mail to the client, which choice should you make?”
Bertha found this one easy.
“We have an ethical and maybe even a legal obligation,” [Bertha nodded] “to never inflate client bills, especially in these times. So, I would never put down in writing what could be taken care of with a quick phone call, and I would never say on a call what should really be in writing. The distinction, I think, is a matter of judgment, and I would defer to those supervising me, but I would feel compelled to, um . . . could I have another sip of water? I’m sorry, but I’m a little parched today. Is that OK?”
Bertha didn’t realize it, but the interview was essentially over. As she left, she apologized for not being “as cogent as I would have liked, but I have a lot to offer, and I’m dedicated and hardworking, and I was on the law review at Condorvine. My student note won an award.”
“That’s great,” Amandine said. “Thank you for your time.”
Then came a young man I shall call “Bill.” Bill looked like an explorer in search of an adventure. He was sweating and kept scratching his chin, which Larry sometimes did when he was nervous.
Question four (Hannah): “Let’s say we made you an offer and fired you three weeks later for no reason at all—not an illegal reason, just no reason at all. What would you say about us?”
“Well,” Bill scratched his chin. “Setting aside the legal issues,” he said, “I’d be pissed. If I were an alcoholic, I wouldn’t say anything, I’d just drink my guts out. If I were snorting coke, I’d get hammered on coke. That’s honestly what I’d do, but I wouldn’t say a thing.”
Amandine looked confused. Who would admit to such a thing in public? Larry seemed indifferent. Andy smiled and wanted to hear what other revelations might come from this young man. Hannah and I looked at each other and wanted to laugh.
Question five (Larry): “A scorpion, a tree, and a lamp walk into a bar. The lamp says . . . Complete the thought.”
The correct answer to this was something wholly beside the point like: “Great question. I’ve never really thought about that, but this is why I want to work at this firm. You guys are real innovators.” Instead, Bill looked straight at Larry and said, “The lamp says, ‘What the fuck! Did the lights just go out in here? Let’s put the tree in the fireplace so the scorpion can stay warm.’”
Amandine was getting annoyed now, and she went off script and asked the question that was the kiss of death: “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah,” Bill said, “this is awesome. I heard you guys ask fourteen questions and all, and I even prepared yesterday. I’m the kind of guy you want on your side because I’m a shark, man, a real shark. Like I work my ass off, and I will even go into business for myself if I have to. Then I’ll take you out. I’m not gonna let anyone stand in the way of my dreams.”
“That’s great,” Amandine said. “Thank you for your time.”
Brad was the next candidate. He was elegant in the way that some people are when everything they’ve worked hard for finally becomes an effortless part of themselves. He smiled appropriately, nodded as he heard each question, and looked at everyone as he spoke. Larry, however, stiffened in his seat, and Andy smirked.
Question six (Andy): “A really hot, sophisticated, and intelligent client wants to date you. You start dating that client. When do you tell the firm that you’re dating?”
Correct answer: “We never ever date clients (unless their name is Michelle Birch). It is a breach of the lawyer-client relationship and can result in dismissal and in disciplinary action by the Bar. Even if it weren’t a problem, I wouldn’t do it. Some boundaries are not meant to be crossed.”
Brad gave the correct answer. Larry yawned and looked at his watch.
Question seven (Amandine): “A client reaches out to you while you’re taking a shower. She needs to talk to you urgently. You miss the client’s calls because your shower takes fifteen minutes total, and you take another fifteen minutes to get dressed after that. What do you say to the client when you return the call?”
Correct answer: “As a law firm associated with the preeminent political party of our time concerned with water issues (you hosted a fundraiser for them), a shower should never take more than two minutes, and a client should never be without a response for more than five minutes, absent an emergency. A shower is never an emergency, so this is a dismissible offense.”
Brad gave the correct answer. Larry yawned again and thanked Brad for his time. When Brad left, Hannah and I asked Larry why he let him go. Larry raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and said, “Couldn’t you see that he was too good for us? He thinks he’s better than us. How would he fit in here?”
Then came Mackenzie, a skinny man with a huge yellow pimple on his neck that had a red border about the size of a dime.
Question eight (Amandine): “Your parent dies, and the funeral is scheduled for a time when you have a meeting with a major client that cannot be rescheduled. What do you do?”
Mackenzie coughed a little.
“Well,” Mackenzie said, “I guess the dead aren’t going anywhere. Unless, of course, they start defrosting and all, and then you can get that putrefying smell, but that would be something gross and extreme, I guess. So, I guess I’d say to the client that we don’t want the putrefying smell to start, so we’d best reschedule that meeting, you know, and get to the cemetery unless we could get them to add more embalming fluid and more refrigeration, I guess. Clients will understand because they’re all gonna die at some point, and some of them are parents, too. Illness is—”
“Gross,” Andy said. “Thank you for your time.”
Next came Lawrence, with red hair, freckles, and a smile so earnest that I smiled.
Question nine (Larry): “Your client insists that you work on something that you know will be subject to a variety of successful legal challenges. What do you do?”
“I’d say we lay out the risks for the client, provide our evaluation of the merits, and if the client still wants to proceed, we go ahead with the project. It sounds like it’s a really complex project that involves balancing both law and policy. We’re in the business of generating repeat business. There’s nothing wrong with that. We do what the client asks and offer a discount on future work.”
Lawrence rubbed his hands together in self-congratulation.
Larry shook Lawrence’s hand.
Next came Marcus, a man who reminded me of a cousin who lived in Upstate New York with his girlfriend and golden retriever. Marcus also had a little gap in his upper teeth, which made Hannah and me smile.
Question ten (Hannah): “If all the letters of your first name stood for something, what would they stand for?”
“Let’s see,” Marcus said. “‘M’ for ‘Maverick.’ ‘A’ for ‘abstinent.’ ‘R’ for ‘rich.’ ‘C’ for ‘charity.’ ‘U’ for ‘underdog.’ ‘S’ for ‘stallion.’”
“Thank you for your time,” Larry said. “Too good for us.”
Then came April, who tied her auburn hair in a bun and wore an impeccable suit.
Question eleven (Andy): “Imagine that you had three questions for us. Which word would summarize what those three questions had in common: money, prestige, or family?”
Correct answer (wholly beside the question): “Trust. A lawyer is only as marketable as her reputation, which is nothing more than a matter of trust. While work-life balance is important, it is meaningless if there’s no money coming into the firm, which depends on trust, built over years and even decades.”
April’s answer: “The common misconception is that women are unemployable because we get pregnant and need to take time off. That’s very discriminatory. I’m very direct, so I’ll tell you right now that I don’t want any kids, and I don’t like dating apps, so I don’t date, which means I basically don’t have a life except for my work and my Zanzivahl clothes and shoes. My family are like the poorest millionaires you’ll meet in San Diego because we’re not as rich as everyone else in La Jolla, but I like to make my own fun money. I’m fine with two to three days of vacation a year, and I work like a horse and never get sick, 2,600 billable hours at my current job, and I want a change of scenery because I really like your reputation and your ranking.”
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