It's Just Like Prom

So today has been on the weird side of things. It was one of those days when I was saying things that I should not have said. For example, one of the people who has an office in the suite I share asked me if I was busy today.

Like a fool I said, "Not really."

By this afternoon, I suddenly was staring down the barrell of a couple of thousand pages of documents that the opposing counsel in one case I am working for another attorney which arrived today and needed to be triaged ASAP. Then there was the sudden realization that a deposition needed to be noticed right away. A meeting for tomorrow got calendared and the referral service called to see if I could see someone who needed a lawyer.

Not a bad day, but then I got a phone message from a friend of mine who is still at my old firm. When I left, it was not exactly pretty. With the exception of my friend and one other person there, I could really give a frak (excuse my Battlestar Galactica-speak) about them. Her message sounded bad so I called her right away.

Turns out that they have a client in need of representation. A conflict had arisen in a case which another client was going to trial on. The other client, we shall call them Client-A, needed someone to represent them to keep them out of the case. And my old firm, in particular a senior associate who made my life there the experience I would only wish on a select few, was hoping that I could take on the client for a limited purpose.

So why is this day just like prom? Well, when I was a junior in high school, my then-girlfriend mailed me a Dear John letter the day before we went to my junior prom. The letter, on torn binderpaper, arrived two days later, on the Monday, to tell me that she had broken up with me. Needless to say, there were no kind words that flowed between us for quite sometime.

Flash forward a year. It was early April, I had just gotten a date to my senior ball. Literally (and my sister is a witness to this) just after I had put down the phone, it started to ring. Looking at my sister, I said "Its my [name of ex]" and then picked up the phone. (For those wondering, this was pre-caller ID). Sure enough, it was my ex-girlfriend. And she had just been dumped by the guy who she had been dating all year. And she needed a date for prom. Would I go with her?

"You gotta ask me nicer than that," was the response then and now.