Printer Nirvana

Some lawyers despise the printer more than they despise their friends from high school who work at hedge funds unaffected by the downturn. Other lawyers, like me, look forward to a trip to the printer as much as the first day of spring when girls break out those ruffled skirts.

Partner: Matthew, looks like we’re ready to print. Should you tell poor Marcus, or should I?

Me: Marcus told me he has a big family gathering (LIE).  I feel really bad and don’t want him to miss it (HUGE LIE). I’ll bite the bullet and go down to the printer…for old times’ sake.

Partner: Make sure he knows you owe him one. God, I used to hate that place.

Hate the printer? Really. I hear that a lot, but it just doesn’t add up. Hating the printer is like hating puppies or boobs. If you hate any of those things, you should get your head examined.

So, all I had to do was con poor Marcus into missing out on his first printer experience. That turned out to be pretty easy. Like all first-years, Marcus didn’t know anything. A second-year would’ve at least been suspicious of a guy like me volunteering to help.

And I never volunteer.

Unless there’s something in it for me.

Poor Marcus was so naïve that he jumped at the chance to spend quality time with his girlfriend after I told him some yarn about how I lost my ex by spending too much time at the printer.  I believe the clincher was, “I could have been married with kids by now if it wasn’t for that damn printer. Choose love, Marcus.  Choose love.”

Live and learn, Marcus.  Live and learn.

With Marcus safely in the arms of his girlfriend, I went to the printer—or as I like to call it: Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory for Lawyers. It’s got pretty much everything I need to exist in life.

Unlimited food supply. Check.

Golden Tee. Check.

A shower. Check.

The ability to bill every minute I’m there. Double Check.

Am I missing anything? Fine, maybe they won’t let you bring escorts in, but I’m sure that can be remedied by chatting with the friendly rep who always has Knicks tickets.

I know, I know, the work is so tedious down there. There are hundreds of turns of documents, typos to check, etc… But here’s my question: How is this in any way, shape or form inferior to the droll existence of a corporate associate frittering away his days in the office? It’s not.

I am a loner. I don’t need chitchat with my so-called work friends. In fact, I’ll take the small talk with the printer rep (who buys me lap dances when we hit up a strip club afterwards) over gossip with my worthless colleagues about who is close to making partner. If you think about it, working at the printer is like “working from home.” Except your home doesn’t have an arcade and a guy manning an omelet station.

But somewhere between the omelets, Golden Tee and lengthy discussion of Nate Robinson’s supernatural leaping ability, it all came tumbling down.  The partner showed up unannounced. Isn’t there some sort of rule that senior people have to make their presence known at the printer? Like parents’ weekend at camp—give us a few minutes to clean up for God sakes.

I tried to wipe the remnants of the Chipwich off my tie, but I couldn’t wipe the glee off my face.

Partner: Matthew, how’s everything going? On top of things?

Me: Absolutely. I’m on top of everything.

If by “on top” you mean my initials are taking up six of the top-ten entries on the Golden Tee high-score screen.

He started flipping through the prospectus for a few minutes. I braced for the backlash.

Partner: Wanna play Golden Tee?

Did I just end up in some bizaro universe?

Me: Yeah, I guess. I’m not that good though.

Partner: Please, you’ve probably been playing all day. You think I’m a fucking idiot?

I guess I did, but now I’m not so sure.

Me: No, of course not.

Partner: You came down here to get away from it all, right?

It seems my little ruse had been uncovered. Yikes!

Partner: Well, I’ve got news for you, my smart-ass associate friend. I’ve been there, done that. Let me tell you something, since we had the baby, my wife doesn’t even let me play video games anymore. I asked if I could play “Call of Duty 4” and she put me on full-time diaper patrol. It’s terrible. And I haven’t had a Chipwich in years. Work is my vacation from home, and that’s pretty sad, don’t you think? So, if anyone asks, you called me down here because there was an issue with the OM that you couldn’t figure out. Got it?

Me: Got it.

We played Golden Tee for hours, gorged ourselves on junk food and organized an impromptu foosball tournament with some of the workers. Except for the fact that I occasionally let the partner win, it was a day of unadulterated fun.

Partner: It’s getting late. I’ve got a client dinner at Nobu tonight, and knowing this guy, we’re probably going to end up at some shady massage parlor.

Me: Can I come?

Partner: Sorry. I need you here.

Me: Got it.

Partner: By the way, I talked to Marcus.

Shit, I knew he couldn’t be that cool. Just fire me already.

Partner: There never was a family gathering. You’re a manipulating scumbag.

Thanks?

Partner: Oh, and Matthew.

Me: Yes?

Partner: That prospectus is riddled with typos. I counted at least twenty, but there are probably more. Make sure you take care of that before you leave.  And don’t bother poor Marcus. I wouldn’t want you to interrupt his “family gathering.”

That’s what I get for letting that asshole win at foosball.

Matthew Richardson is mergers & acquisitions by day, Unethical & Amoral by moonlight.

Read more Unethical & Amoral.

33 Comments

  1. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 2:16 am

    Hey, this sounds pretty cool!  Who ever heard of getting paid while having a printer pay for your lap dances!  Query whether the private “after party” with the lap dancer is also “on the clock”.  If I can bill for all of this, it’s getting paid for getting laid.  Who can beat that? –the Russian lap dance girl, any time, man, any time.  She’s no wirgin, but WTF!

  2. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 2:51 am

    I forgot to note below that Matthew is an M&A;man by day and a T&A;man by night.  Go for it, dude!

  3. Ex-BigLaw

    March 11, 2009 at 3:03 am

    The guy who wants a wirgin has never had a whore to compare. 

  4. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 4:13 am

    I can’t tell you the last time I heard the word chipwich…too funny.

  5. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 7:12 am

    I don’t know which one is worse. The unapologetic, hardworking asshole partner or the partner who thinks he is “cool, and just like you,” yet he is still a big asshole. I guess it is just pick your poison at that point.

  6. Rico

    March 11, 2009 at 8:22 am

    Printer=Vegas for corporate lawyer dorks.  I know, cuz i’m one of them.

  7. Al Veoli

    March 11, 2009 at 9:08 am

    I have done about 3-4 different printers over many years, and have never had the food or fun this guy had.  What printer has these games and food?  Of course, mine have not been in NYC.

  8. Bill Dugan

    March 11, 2009 at 9:30 am

    Thanks for cluing me in.  Where’s the lap dancers?

  9. BL1Y

    March 11, 2009 at 9:39 am

    I’ve only heard of people calling the printer, never going down to visit them.  And if the place is so great, why bother going to the printer?  Just get a job there.  I imagine this is just as fictional as Bitter Temp’s stories.  But, it’s a lot better written and more entertaining.

  10. midlevel hack

    March 11, 2009 at 9:41 am

    BL1Y, trust me this is an accurate depiction of what goes on down there…why not work at the printer?…how about they make around 60k a year jackass!

  11. Bigg

    March 11, 2009 at 9:53 am

    Sounds like a case for ALMA.  Is the Printer sexist? …it better have Cosmo, tampons, and the WE channel.

  12. Jen

    March 11, 2009 at 10:55 am

    Very Good. I will always think of this when I visit the printer.

  13. BL1Y

    March 11, 2009 at 11:16 am

    Midlevel: I’d rather have $60k and live in fantasy land than make $160k and maybe have one or two good days a month.

  14. BigLaw Partner

    March 11, 2009 at 11:40 am

    This BL1Y is a tool.  This piece is as accurate as can be.  Are you really a lawyer?  Let me guess… You’re some low rent litigator at some half-assed firm in the middle of nowhere—in a place where lawyers think they’re cool because they get drunk at the local Friday’s.

  15. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 12:00 pm

    Just a note on the “Bitter Poll.” – – I think the pictures you chose of Madoff’s sons could be swaying the results. The way those two look in those pictures, I would be willing to indict them for just about anything.

  16. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 12:03 pm

    Craig, stick to the topic.  Big Law Partner, BL1Y works at your firm.  Jen, take your top off.  Maybe now, Alma will come out of the woodwork and lambaste me for being sexist, since I’ve never seen a Playgirl magazine at the printers.

  17. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 12:14 pm

    Sorry. I will let you guys get back to your usual posts of juvenile sex comments. They are really original too, because you guys don’t have the exact same comments for every single article. If the posts were actually funny, or insightful, it would be a different story. You guys are like Howard Stern Wack Packers; peripheral super fans who think they are in on the joke, but the joke is actually on them. I guess there is still some entertainment in that.

  18. Alan

    March 11, 2009 at 12:19 pm

    Craig is the Simon Cowell of BL………….saying what we all think…………………….and the only opinion that really matters………………

  19. Al Veoli

    March 11, 2009 at 12:36 pm

    Yea, but some of us have the cohones to comment, and to put ourselves out there in so doing.  Where do you tools fit in?

  20. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 12:46 pm

    First, in the context of your life, it is really sad that you think writing a post on the BL site constitutes an act that takes “cohunes.” If you consider this ballsy, I think you may need to start taking more chances in life. Second, it seems like you are implying I am not one of the people with “cohunes,” yet I post on BL often. So I’m really not sure where you are going with that.

  21. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 12:55 pm

    Just for the record, the correct word is “cojones.” My spell check automatically changed it.

  22. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 1:29 pm

    Great, Craig, now if you can only get a set of balls!

  23. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 1:31 pm

    Craig, I think the rest of us would prefer the spelling in the Urban Dictionary to your “spell check”.  Not sure how smart you are for relying on a spell check for this word, either, unless you are posting from Cuba.
    http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Cohones

  24. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 1:39 pm

    My spell check changed the word I wrote in, which was “cojones,” to “cohunes,” which is apparantly “A feather-leaved Central American palm (Orbignya cohune) having hard-shelled fruits that yield a useful oil.” I do admit that I am not an expert in Spanish, or English slang derived Spanish. So you do have me there.

  25. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 2:03 pm

    Leave it to you guys to reduce my comments to the correct spelling of the English slang word for Spanish balls. I should not be surprised. You guys are consistent if nothing else.

  26. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 2:43 pm

    Craig, I’m not sure what rock you crawled out from under but when we told you to get a set of cohones, we were NOT referring to “a feather-leaved Central American palm (Orbignya cohune) having hard-shelled fruits that yield a useful oil.” If you want to get a palm tree, you can do that, but that is NOT what we were asking you to get.  BL1Y and I were and continue to refer to a set of Balls, fella.  That is what you need to make it with the women.  Not a palm tree (unless you want one of those fruity drinks the ladies love with an umbrella in it).  Dont be a dillweed, man, chin up–there are ladies reading this, and there are likely to be few legal wusses named Craig.

  27. Craig

    March 11, 2009 at 3:08 pm

    If your goal was to completely misinterpret every prior post, then you have succeeded. First, I never thought you guys meant a palm tree. I was pointing out that my spell check mistakenly thought I meant to write “cohunes,” when I actually wrote “cojones.” It was my spell check that was confused, not me. Two, BL1Y, if I am not mistaken, was backing me up that “cojones” was at least one proper way to spell it. With that, trying to have a conversation with you guys is like trying to teach a monkey to talk; with enough effort and training, it may be possible, but what is the point. I will now give you guys back your comment boards, and will no longer interrupt.

  28. Anonymous

    March 11, 2009 at 3:19 pm

    Kick ass, Craig.

  29. BL1Y

    March 11, 2009 at 7:30 pm

    I got yo back, Craig.  Be sure to notice which spelling gets more positive votes.

  30. BL2Y

    March 12, 2009 at 2:21 am

    Easy Craig, I will try and put my little brother back in the box.  Meanwhile, it’s nice to see you do have at least one cohojone.

  31. loves free shtuff

    March 12, 2009 at 6:59 am

    The biggest positive from my few years at a big firm is that I befriended a few sales shlubs from the printer. Those guys have take me to chocolate tastings, U2 concerts, yankees games and poker tournaments (I won a big screen tv). Those 2 all nighters that I pulled at the printer have paid off big time!!

  32. Ducky Way

    April 21, 2009 at 2:33 am

    Goddamn it! I never made it to the printer… I had my f*cking interns do that. What a douchebag I am!

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