THE WALK

Petty Esquire: A fictional account of the extraordinarily petty, six figure, underbelly of the legal world.


I looked over at the new team lead and just at that moment, he looked in my direction and our eyes locked briefly. “Shit!” I whispered, and looked away. It was like we were in a prison camp and the guard had his eyes on me. I didn’t need that kind of attention. I just wanted to do my time, make my money and move on. I’d done the math. At thirty-five dollars and hour, sixty hours a week, I could earn over $100,000.00 a year doing this. After taxes it was just enough for me to pay my bills and survive until I could find a real job.

Just then the paralegal walked in. Her gait was more confident than before. I looked up when she entered the room then quickly returned to my work. They had given us a quota to review one hundred documents a day and I had a lot of catching up to do since I had sneaked out.

To my shock and surprise, the paralegal ended her confident walk at my little corner of the folding table. I slowly looked up and said, “Hi”. She rolled her eyes and responded, “Hi. I need to talk to you.” She paused for emphasis then added in a nasty tone, “Privately! Come with me.” To the extent that one could in a tiny, hot, room crammed with 42 people, I tried to be discreet, even smiling broadly and panning the room with my head held high looking into each gazing eye to make it appear that indeed I was special to be following the paralegal. There was nothing wrong. You guys are all losers because you’re not making this walk.