I understand that law takes a lot of attention and time - and I don’t mean the time we take to wear the shirt, suit, button the collar, robe, adjust the wig etc. After spending five years at undergraduate level learning a lot of things any self-respecting idler will forget before convocation, we get to spend yet another at law school, with parting words about reading all through one’s career. Thankfully, our National Assembly makes catching up with the law a whole lot easier.
In any case, six years of school is a disproportionate time for a course half as versatile as a Chemistry or Zoology, which can make you president or vice-president (and everyone knows that being vice-president is a potentially powerful or stagnant position, depending on the country you live in or what excuses the legislature can wield).
It follows that my random and regularly irrational ranting rarely involves regular mortals who have nothing to do with law i.e. family and friends. I don’t talk about them because they don’t really exist - not in the literal sense, since unlike Terminator, I happen to have come to earth by more conventional means. They don’t exist in the time-worth-spending scale. In the pursuit of law, I have come to recognise what is important and whose needs reign supreme: the salary provider and the client. I have then come to ignore those that have nothing to do with payment of bills, salary increases and those who have no power over my motions, appeals or determination of the next adjourned date.
‘Quite frankly’ (the verbal synonym for: a really modest shrug or the sound of patting my back), the only reason I can recognise the office building during the day is because I sometimes leave my tiny cubicle to appear in court. I hold my donkey-ethic in working seriously and have learnt to perfect the art of ‘work’ and ‘busy’. Naturally, in case anyone forgets this fact, I remind the salary provider about my consistent lack of life and love for the law by sending emails at 9:30 pm on Friday evening and working weekends since everyone knows weekends are the most effective time to begin intensive legal research.
While I take special pride and fulfilment in bragging about how hard I work and the number of hours I spend at the office on weekdays and weekends, I see no reason why I should be at work today – the Saturday before Valentine’s Day.
Grey-Stripes (aka kill-joy, destroyer of my personal satisfaction) and who has no life outside the office except on his Blackberry decided that we (three other associates and I) meet today to review an agreement that I strongly suspect won’t self-destruct by Monday morning. I have tried every subtle and shameless hint to get out of this, feigned a cold and stomach ache, made repeated calls on my phone and hints that have not worked. Right now, I am contemplating mistakenly spilling water on my keyboard, pulling out my hair or some other act that indicates the need for strong men in white coats.
Finally we finish at a quarter to four, time enough for ice-cream and a movie. This is when I really really hate the law.