Going to lunch every day in my law office is a fairly big affair. Not just because it provides a break from motions and minutia, but (for me at least) because it involves one of the greatest things in the world: food. The majority of the time, lunch consists of inhaling a sandwich and fries while running to the courthouse and screaming into my phone that I need the Smith file immediately. This usually results in afternoons with mayonnaise-stained suits and oral arguments drenched in the aroma of uncooked onions. (I credit the horrid onion breath to my recent victory at the Court of Appeals.) So, when I actually have time for a “true lunch, ”I don’t take my lunch break lightly.;
Happily, last week presented one of those rare true lunch opportunities, and several of us decided to take advantage of the fact we were able to take more than five minutes to stuff our faces with sustenance. We met at the elevators at the designated time to discuss where we would go. I’m not sure what I was expecting with seven lawyers attempting to make a decision, but agreement and compromise wasn’t what I got.
Coupon Cathy suggested we go to a local fast food restaurant because she had a BOGO coupon (“buy one get one free,” for those uninitiated to the couponing underworld). Nevermind the fact that none of us were 8-years-old and the fact that our meal came with a cute toy didn’t outweigh processed meat with a side of heart attack
Too Busy Toby chimed in that he couldn’t be bothered with such trivial discussions such as where to go to lunch as he is a very important appellate lawyer who has very important things to do. He rolled his eyes at us, grabbed his iPhone 4S and called his secretary for assistance. As she was sitting 15 feet from the elevator, we turned and watched her pick up the phone and take his verbal assault. We observed the conversation, and had to admit that invoking her assistance was not such a bad idea, as she began to print out menus for all restaurants located within a 20 mile radius, and delivered them to us immediately.
Five Star Francis suggested we go to the Ritz, as their beef wellington and crème brule were to die for. She only goes to establishments with five stars attached to them, and finds it offensive when waiters wear anything less than tuxedos and cumber buns. She also refuses to take any case that doesn’t involve an influential public figure and asks us to refer to her simply as “Esquire.” (We have a few other choice names for her, but none that she knows about and none that are appropriate for print.)
Argumentative Annie strongly advocated we go out for vegan food. To make her point, she produced documentation of the horrors of eating meat and passed out data and charts from the last five years to back up her position. She then said we were all idiots if we didn’t accept her stance and waited for our counterarguments. When Too Busy Toby objected to her charts, she overruled his objection and threatened contempt of court (which is the dreaded position of the last person to order their lunch).
Kids’ Menu Karl suggested a local restaurant which specializes in fish sticks and a side of macaroni and cheese. His briefs are usually written in crayon and his motions have at least one smudge of peanut butter or grape jelly attached. He likes to think of it as his signature.
Passive Paul stood in the corner, unassumingly, observing and trying not to hyperventilate at the thought of lunch with others. He attempted to make a few suggestions, but backed away as soon as someone made eye contact. Lunch was the only time of day he emerged from his office, and we were just happy he was wearing shoes … and deodorant.
Amidst the arguments and chaos, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, beckoning us to make a decision and depart. We all looked at each other, none of us wanting to budge on our chosen positions for lunch. Instead of coming to a compromise, we stared each other down and waited for the others to come around to each specific school of thought. We were still staring at each other when the elevator doors closed and the moving room went on its merry way.
Ultimately, we all returned to our desks. Although the outside world would assume we each went back to work in frustration, in actuality, it was in triumph. We had empty stomachs for the rest of the day, but it felt good knowing we remained impervious to others’ persuasion. Besides, I keep the equivalent of a small grocery store in my office, so I dined on canned soup and saltines the rest of the afternoon, savoring the salt with my victory.
©2012Under Analysis, LLC. Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of The Levison Group. Lisa Henderson-Newlin is a member of the law firm McAnany Van Cleave and Phillips. Contact Under Analysis by email at comments@levisongroup.com.