the hand that mocked them and the heart that fed
Yesterday, was not a good day to be sick at work. There were three new clients sitting in the reception area with me for about 2 hours. They waited anxiously for their appointments I sneezed repeatedly behind the desk. Everyone who called, and I mean these are people who I have never met, felt the need to say, “Hey you sound sick, sicky. You shouldn’t be at work like this. Think of the germs you’re spreading.” Oh, I’m thinking about it I wanted to say. When I brought my boss his espresso he eyed me suspiciously, lawyers are so paranoid, and said, “Are you coming down with something?” “Oh I am down,” I responded. “Well, I will remain immune,” he countered. To which I reposted, “What hands do you think are making your coffee?” “You wash them right?” I smile a little and turn to go, as I’m closing the door I hear some grumbles from behind me but can only make out the words vindictive bitch.
I return to my post at the front, and one of the new clients approaches the desk cautiously and asks if I can check over his intake form to make sure he filled it out right. I glance at it, and assure him it’s fine. What I want to say to people like this, the nervous humorless ones, is that they don’t need to be so serious here in the beginning with the intake forms and the consultations. They are about to embark on a journey that will make them forget not only that an intake form ever existed, but why they sought legal service in the first place. This intake form will become like one of those ancient relics rotting in the desert, as bitterly humorous as Ozymandias’ Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! I am nice to them, bringing coffee happily and letting them sit in the sun-drenched waiting room for as long as they want. They don’t know it, but today is the last chance for levity.
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
Thousands of sheets of stapled paper stretch far away.