BLACKLISTED

At 1:30 pm. I went to the rest room, practically wading through all of its grossness. There was toilet paper all over the floors. Two of the three commodes were overflowing. The faucets trickled only a tiny stream of brownish water and there was no soap. I had to hold my breath the entire time that I was in there. I felt like I needed a bath after leaving that bathroom. After that ordeal, I went back to my seat, pretending to continue to click through documents. It was mindless work and the firm didn’t care. From what I heard other contract attorneys saying, they had already worked out a deal for the merger with the government anyway and we were just going through the motions for the benefit of the shareholders and the public. About five minutes later I walked out of the room without signing out, my head held high with a brisk gait as if I was entitled to do so. I walked four blocks to a quiet park with birds and squirrels jumping around and only a few people. I found an unoccupied bench and made the call.

I got through to the partner’s office and his secretary answered as expected. I exercised through the usual niceties, saying hi and asking her how she was doing. She replied with complete lack of recognition of who I am, “I’m fine sir, how can I help you?” Her tone surprised me. I had worked with this woman for a year, covering for her when she had to pick her children up from school or run some errand or another and stepping in when her boss was about to can her ass for some small thing or another and now she acts as if she doesn’t even know me? What a piece of shit! I let out a grunt in disgust, fighting back the tongue lashing that I desperately wanted to give her. I cursed her in my mind instead then I asked for the partner. She responded coldly, “Please hold, I’ll see if he’s available.” I stayed on hold for a few minutes, through the music and intermittent ads for the firm, contemplating all the possible ways this thing could turn out. I had paid my dues, I worked hard, I kissed ass for this firm and made them money, surely that counted for something. Then sleepy music stopped and the receiver went live again. “He’s not available at this time,” she said with an attitude. I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew exactly what this was. My office was right next to his and I had heard him play that game with people a million times before but this time it was me he was doing it to. “I know he’s there,” I insisted. “We both know he’s there. I just need a couple of minutes of his time. You know I’ve been there for you. I’m asking you to please put me through so that I can talk to him.” I paused, quit pathetically. “It’s very, very, important. Please, I just need a minute.” My pleas fell on deaf ears. “I’m sorry sir; he’s not available at this time. He also told me to tell you that you can forget about applying at other top firms because after what you did to him he had a duty to inform his colleagues of the type of behavior that you are capable of.” I could feel an icy wall building up around me. A glacier of outrage and sheer hatred moved slowly but very steadily between the firm and me and I knew that it was over. That chance that I had dreamed of, that I thought was a guarantee based on my history of hard work and dedication, late hours, ass-kissing was all gone, melted away. In an instant I was blacklisted.

I took several deep breaths and flexed my muscles one group at a time starting from my face to my toes just like the occupational therapist had taught me when I was briefly hospitalized in the mental ward after my first year of law school. I felt better but it still didn’t relive me of the trauma that I had just experienced. It did, however, allow me to accept that whatever had just happened I still had my contract attorney job. I sat for a moment after hanging up from the partner’s secretary, taking it all in and preparing myself to move on. Finally I hurried back to the project.