Associate Abuse

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One Day, Zero Nights in Majorca

by Bitter and Abused on August 4, 2008 in Columns

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I just arrived in Majorca, Spain, dreams of paella, sangria and long overdue sex on my mind.  I’d been working round the clock on some stupid merger for three months.  I’d barely seen my fiancée for weeks—and she was seconds away from returning the expensive ring I’d just bought for her.  So I planned a two-week trip to Spain (with the partner’s prior consent) to reconnect with the woman of my dreams—and my humanity.

First stop:  Majorca.  We arrived at 6 am Saturday morning.  I was overwhelmed by the beauty, the tranquility, the lack of noise… The hotel was even more beautiful than the website suggested.  We stepped into the lobby, smiling ear-to-ear, uttering I love you’s all over the place.  Until the woman at the front desk told me I had a message waiting for me from a Mr. Pell, i.e., the partner in charge of the merger deal from hell.  My heart started thumping, as my fiancée’s voice began to tremble.  “Whatever you do, don’t call him back.  Please.  Just ignore it.” But I couldn’t.  I had to know what he wanted.  Maybe he just needed a question answered—or just wanted to say “hi.” Nope.  He wanted me to get on a plane and return to New York right away.  Deal had just gone haywire.  All hands on deck.  When I broke the news, my fiancée—er, ex-fiancée—started crying.  We then got back in the cab, drove to the airport and flew home. She moved out nine days later.

Report your tales of Associate Abuse.  Email them to info@bitterlawyer.com

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Earthquakes Are for Pussies

by Bitter and Abused on July 29, 2008 in Columns

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Submitted by “anon_in_LA”:

A little context: I work in a huge firm in downtown LA but am from the Northeast. We have blizzards, maybe the occasional hurricane, but that’s about it. No brush fires. No mudslides. No earthquakes.

From 8.30 a.m. on this morning, I was the designated first-year note-taking bitch on a horrible, long-ass page-through of the latest rounds of docs for this private equity deal my firm’s dealing with for this investment fund client. The partner on the deal—not a bad guy, but a total robot who has stacks of deal toys lining his office shelves, and not one picture of his wife or kids—made me take the call from his office. (Already a disaster, since I couldn’t even mute the phone and just look at the Internet while everyone else droned on about crap that I can barely understand.) A couple hours into the call, I’m trying to stay awake by focusing on things the partner has on his desk when the desk starts shaking. Along with everything else in the building. And the city.

So this is my first real earthquake and it’s pretty intense, at least for someone from the east coast.  Our firm is 30 floors up and after shaking and knocking things off shelves, the building keeps swaying and people are running into the hallways, pretty much freaking out. Everyone except the partner. Who doesn’t skip a fucking beat. Doesn’t even make eye contact with me.

I’m clearly freaking out and go to stand up, wondering if I should go in a doorway or call my mom or something.  But the partner, still without pausing the call, just shoots me a look like I am the biggest loser whiner in the world for being concerned about a little building shaking. He grimaces and motions for me to close the door, clearly annoyed with the noise from all those people milling about in the hallway going on and on about, oh, the fucking 5.8 earthquake that just happened.

So, I sit back down. About 10 minutes later, I’m actually motion sick, and one of the NY bankers pauses the call and interrupts my partner, telling us she just heard there was an earthquake in LA and is everything OK? Like the robot sycophant that he is, my partner starts laughing and grinning—and BTW, why the grin? It’s not like they can see your ass-kissing face over the phone, douchebag—and says something like “Ha, yes, ma’am. Looks that way.” And then he dropped the subject.

Almost four hours—and a blackberry full of emails and voicemails from friends and family on the east coast later—I finally got to call my mom and tell her I was OK.

Report your tales of Associate Abuse.

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So Much for the Hamptons

by Bitter and Abused on July 24, 2008 in Columns

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My friend from Chicago just flew into town.  He swung by my office with his overnight bag. We made a few phone calls, found out about some “hip” parties that weekend, then set off for the Hampton Jitney.  I was finally about to amortize that half-share in East Hampton I overpaid for.  As I was leaving my office, my phone rang.  “Don’t answer it,” my buddy said.  But I couldn’t help it.  “Hello?” I said, my voice trembling with fear.  Seconds later, I was on my way up to the 44th floor to do some due diligence with the world’s most annoying senior associate–and my friend was off to the Hamptons alone.  I tried to explain to the S/A that my friend was in town, didn’t know anyone in my summer house, was in NY to visit me, etc… But she didn’t care.  Just looked at me and said, “Sorry.” If that wasn’t bad enough, later that night, or should I say morning, she looked at me with this slightly insane, self-obsessed smile and said, “What can I say, I’m a deal junkie.” I wanted to cry, but I was too depressed.

Report your tales of Associate Abuse.  Email them to info@bitterlawyer.com.

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My (Former) Best Friend’s Wedding

by Bitter and Abused on July 14, 2008 in Columns

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I was in the middle of a merger deal, working 80 hours a week, for about two months. For weeks, I’d been telling the partner, I was best man in an upcoming wedding and I couldn’t work Saturday the 5th.  He assured me that I’d be fine.  “For God’s sake, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

The Thursday before the actual wedding weekend, I reminded him yet again I wouldn’t be able to work Friday or Saturday night. Once again, he assured me that would not be a problem—though I did note the change in his words. It went from “of course” to “not a problem.” The next day, around 4 PM, I emailed him to say I was leaving for the weekend. His electronic response: “What do you mean “leaving?”
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Report Associate Abuse!

by Bitter and Abused on July 14, 2008 in Columns

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Associate Abuse is a serious and sometimes fatal problem. The scars of humiliation are deep and long-lasting—affecting not just the abused attorneys, but the community in which they live.

There are countless innocent associates who have been laid off at Christmas, kicked in the gut, ditched in random cities. All by sexless, sadistic partners and bitter senior associates.  For every incidence of abuse reported, we believe another 30 go unreported.

Obvious signs of Associate Abuse:

  • Inability to smile or detect humor
  • Talking to inanimate office supplies
  • Sudden obsession with Adam Sandler movies
  • Inexplicable contempt for coffee vendors

Please report any and all incidences of abuse to info@bitterlawyer.com as soon as possible. Reporting is anonymous. Make it your therapy. Though Bitter Lawyer takes associate abuse seriously, and we sympathize with all victims, only the best submissions will be posted.

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