“Good call.”
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of the Morrisons’ shared desk while they both glared at me with matching expressions of parental disappointment.
“Traffic—”
“Is a thing that exists in Tampa every single day,” Catherine finished. “Which is whyprofessionalsleave early to account for it.”
“You’re right. I should have—”
“You also missed the Henderson deposition prep meeting on Friday,” Bob said. “The one we scheduled because you’re handling that case.”
“I was here Friday. I worked until seven—”
“The meeting was at four.” Catherine pulled out a planner—an actual physical planner from the eightiesbecause she was old school like that—and pointed to a note. “You confirmed your attendance on Tuesday.”
I had no memory of this, none, which meant I’d probably been so buried in work that I’d agreed to it without checking my calendar.
“I’m sorry,” I said, because what else could I say? “I’ve been juggling a lot of cases and I must have—”
“That’s not an excuse,” Bob said, but his voice had softened. “Chase, you’re a good lawyer. You’re smart, you care about our clients, and you work hard, but you’re drowning.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Catherine said. “And part of that is on us. We’ve given you too much too fast because you’re capable of handling it, but capability doesn’t mean you should be doing the work of three people.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“We’re hiring another associate,” Bob continued. “Someone to help shoulder the load. In the meantime, we need you to be more organized. Use your calendar, set reminders, and for God’s sake, Chase, get more than four hours of sleep a night. You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I said weakly.
“That wasn’t a compliment,” Catherine corrected, though she wasalmostsmiling. “Go. We’ve got a mediation in twenty minutes. You’re covering phone inquiries and walk-ins this morning.”
“On it.”
I escaped to my office and slumped into my chair, staring at the mountain of files on my desk. The scattered, crumpled papers from this morning’s collision still needed to be reorganized.
My brain began to spin. They were hiring another associate. That was good. That would help. In the meantime, I had approximately seventeen things to do before lunch and no clear idea which one to tackle first.
The morning passed in a blur of phone calls and document review. Mrs. Patterson called to yell at me about her ex-husband’s failure to pay child support (not my fault, but I let her yell because she needed to vent). Mr. Kowalski called to ask if we could speed up his divorce proceedings (because his wife’s attorney was delaying, also not my fault). Someone who didn’t offer a name called asking if we handled criminal defense (we didn’t, but I gave them a referral because I was helpful like that).
Ashley brought me coffee at 10:30, the sound of her gum preceding her like a series of lightbulbs bursting.
“You look like shit,” she said, setting the cup on my desk.
“I’ve been told.”
“Bob and Cathy are hard on you because they like you.”
“That’s a weird way to show affection.”
“They’re lawyers. Their love language is conflict.”Smack.Pop. “Also, there’s a walk-in. Conference Room B.”
“Did they say what it’s about?”
“New client. Wants to discuss a divorce.” She handed me a file folder. “I did the intake. Married three years, no kids, wants to separate assets. Should be straightforward.”
Nothing in family law was straightforward, but I appreciated her optimism.
