WELCOME TO TEMP TOWN

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

When she grabbed the sign in sheet as we left the room I felt a chill run down my spine. Now I knew it was definitely something bad. We got outside the door and a few feet down the hall and the paralegal said, “I’ve been made aware that you left the room without signing out. That is against our rules. You signed an agreement that you would not do that and now,” she looked back down at the paper for emphasis, “it appears that you have done that. What are we going to do about that?” This was my only chance at earning an income at the time. I had to plead. “I sincerely apologize. I didn’t fully understand the rules,” I lied. “I promise on my mother’s grave, I’ll never do it again. Please, please, please give me another chance.” “You can stop begging. It’s not up to me. It’s up to the team lead.” Oh no! That guy had been watching me and now I knew that it wasn’t because he wanted to give me a gold star for meeting my clicking quota. “I’ll talk to him,” she said as if he had ascended even her in rank. “I’ll let you know what he decides.” Then she turned on her heels and went back into the room heading for the Team Lead’s desk. She leaned in close to him and they held a whispered conversation.

Meanwhile, I went back to my seat and hurried through documents, clicking as fast as I could to catch up barely looking at the words on the pages. I envied the Team Lead. He held just the kind of power that I needed in an environment like this.

Within five minutes the paralegal came over to me. She didn’t bother to lean over and whisper as she had done with the Team Lead. She tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Pack up your things. You’re off the project.” I looked over at the Team Lead and briefly caught his eye before he lowered his gaze back to his computer screen. Coward! What could I do? How much lower could I get as an attorney than to be fired from a contract job where licensed professionals could be called bottom feeders? The paralegal stood next to me as I gathered the few things on the desk that belonged to me. The entire room had heard her fire me and now, with her hovering over me, she kept their attention focused solely on me. I was beyond humiliation. The old guy next to me patted me on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t feel bad. Welcome to Temp Town. It was nice meeting you. Hopefully I’ll see on another project.