Damages

I shouldn't be doing this, but I am. I guess I've always had self-destructive tendencies, or at least that's what my ex-girlfriends used to say. When I had girlfriends, that is. Before I started this job, where the 85-hour work week isn't exactly conducive to maintaining healthy relationships. Either inside or outside the office.

But I digress.

This blog, ill-advised as it may be, will expose the inner workings of one of New York's most successful, most dysfunctional, most inspired and most reviled law firms.

How do I know the dish? Because I work here.

Why am I doing the dish? Because the truth must be told. And also, as I said, because I'm self-destructive.

My boss would fire me in a heartbeat if she knew I was writing this. More than anything, she values loyalty. Too bad the sentiment's not reciprocal. For her, loyalty is a one-way street. Which, I guess, is part of the reason I'm being incautious—sooner or later she's going to fire me anyway, so why not go down in a blaze of glory? It's not like I'm making partner, because no one makes partner here (although Queen Bee does seem to have taken a shine to The New Girl). The best case scenario is to quit before you get canned. We'll see if that scenario works out for me.

For now, though, it's back to work. Many pensionless plaintiffs to appease, and boxes of discovery to digest.

But come back soon and I'll pass some of that discovery onto you...

The New Girl came in this week with an engagement ring. A pretty little diamond. "Little" being the operative word. Her fiance's probably an artist or something. Someone who doesn't concern himself with the vulgarity of financial matters.

So she's taken. Quel dommage. And she seemed just my type: winsome and delicate on the outside, hellcat within. I have to admit it was borderline arousing the way she stuck it to the A.V. Squad in conference the other day. That egomaniac needs the occasional bitchslap to keep his swelled head from exploding. The Squad thinks pinstripes make him look like an old school partner, but he's just an empty suit. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets pink-slipped before I do.

(And who knows: the New Girl's fiance might get a pink-slip of his own in good time. As we've seen, this is the firm where relationships come to die. Perhaps-as Dr. Axl Rose once wrote-all we need is a just a little patience. Fiance, your days are numbered...)

But, interpersonal business aside, this has been a more chaotic week than usual at the home firm. The Queen Bee's trusted #2 was given the boot, kicked to the dirty curb, deep-sixed without so much as a fare-thee-well or a decent severance package. Word is that poor #2 wasn't vigilant enough in his supervision of the clients in the Big Case-which seems on the brink of outright disaster-but I'm wondering if his hasty departure didn't have something to do with a bit of ill-timed aspiration. The Queen Bee's known for whipping out her stinger when a drone gets too ambitious. Did #2 make a play for partner? Methinks his reach extends beyond his grasp.

That said, the office is in a state of Defcon 4 disarray since he hit the bricks. #2 was the glue holding the Big Case together, and now that he's gone, the whole thing feels like a house of cards that could topple any minute. It doesn't help that The Squad and Lady Miss M are spending more time campaigning to be the new #2 than applying their debatable legal prowesses to defusing the biggest embarrassment of the Queen Bee's storied career. If this thing gets settled for a paltry $100 mil, I won't have to worry about getting fired for having loose lips...I'll get laid off for lack of work. We all will. Because no one's gonna retain a high-stakes litigator who can't guarantee a high-stakes payday.

But who knows? Maybe she's got an ace or two up her silk sleeve. You can't ever underestimate or count out the Queen Bee, who in her unparalleled resilience resembles an infinitely more uncrushable insect: La Cucaracha. You can try to step on her, stamp her out-you can even try to stab her-but her exoskeleton repels all blows.

Until next time...