Reams of paper then pour to and from the various law firms and into the court. In those reams of paper are the subpoenas and notices commanding witnesses and parties to appear at depositions and give sworn testimony in an informal, out of court setting. Many of the witnesses and parties will not have anything to say about a given firm's client, and it is the practice of most law firms to send young associates, such as Max Stevens, to those depositions least likely to produce testimony about the firm's client. While this practice is understandable, it does not give young associates much of an opportunity to hone or demonstrate their skills as attorneys.
Max had high hopes when he flew down to San Diego with one of the senior partners of the firm. This was a combination of six complex cases, and several depositions were taking place at the same time. He thought this scheduling conflict might allow him to take part in a deposition where his questioning skills would be important. It was not to be. Instead, he spent the next three days yawning his way through testimony in which the firm’s client was scarcely mentioned. Finally, mercifully, the deposition Max was attending ended.
He returned to the hotel to pick up his luggage and to report to the partner that was nothing of note to note. As Max entered the hotel lobby his mind was filled with thoughts of home. That damn deposition had lasted one day longer than he had expected, and he wanted very much to climb into some clean clothes. He knocked on the door of the partner's room and impatiently waited for an answer. The answer did not come from the room but from behind him.
"Max!" the partner exclaimed. Max almost jumped through the roof.
"Glad to see your here," the partner continued, as if he had not noticed Max's imitation of an MX missile.
Max had this awful feeling that he was about to be given an assignment he did not want. Not being one to waste time, the partner opened the door and motioned for Max to enter without interrupting his dialogue.
"The firm where my deposition was taking place was kind enough to let Jim fax some things to their machine for me."
"For a fee, no doubt."
"Of course, the greedy bastards! Anyhow, he has this fascinating case in which several oil companies are producing oil from the same field. There is a topping plant, whatever that is, and pipe lines and the sort of technical stuff you're so good at figuring out. To make a long story short, some semi-refined product got into a nearby stream and really messed things up. Our client is one of the companies producing oil from that field." He handed Max a paper containing the client's name and a summary of the allegations against the client.
"Fascinating?" Max thought with more than a little skepticism.
"What Jim needs is for you to cover a deposition for him down here."
Saying what Max was thinking would have been detrimental to his career so he said nothing.
"You don't have to bother checking into the hotel again or canceling your plane reservations. The deposition I was conducting unexpectedly ended today. You can have this room."
Max's silence lingered into a long pause. "I know its imposition," the partner conceded. "You probably don't have any clean clothes, do you?"
"Well, now that you mention it..."
"I can't help you with underwear or socks, but I have a shirt that would go well with your suit."
Not that the partner was a flashy dresser or anything, but the shirt turned out to be silk. If anyone else had told Max it would go well with his suit, Max would have punched him in the nose or burned the suit. Since he could not do that in this case he thanked the partner and consoled himself with the thought that the shirt was clean.
Max hopefully called Jim at the office the following morning only to have his worst fear confirmed. The client was not the operator of the topping plant or the pipeline. This meant there would be little or no need for Max to ask any questions. He started to ponder the injustice of so many boring assignments over breakfast, but he decided this was not a wise thing to do. "Such assignments are just the dues one has to pay," he told himself. "Besides, there might be some interesting attempts to link the client to the piece of equipment that leaked." Those thoughts put him into a much better frame of mind by the time he finished his breakfast.
He then stepped out into one of those bright summer mornings that promised to become a scorcher of a day. Since the law firm where the deposition was taking place was only a quarter of a mile away he decided to walk there and enjoy the beauty of that part of San Diego. It seemed as though he had just started walking when he arrived at his destination. It was one of those quaint buildings dating back to the early nineteen-twenties. A thick, elegant carpet covered the floor, and the deep, rich tones of natural wood abounded. Near the entrance was a shoe shine stand attended by a man who was only slightly younger than the building. At the back of the building was a manually operated elevator, which was no longer in service, and an ornate stairway leading up to the second and third floors. Max thought the building was charming, but he also knew that a structure this old lacked air-conditioning altogether or had the sort of improvised system that made one room emulate a meat locker while another room did a credible imitation of an oven.
The moment he stepped into the room where the deposition was to take place he knew it would soon begin to mimic an oven. A small, attractive blond, who was in her late twenties, was sitting near the end of the table. Although she had been at the deposition he had attended for that other case, the only thing he knew about her was that her name was Jane and that she seemed to have a good sense of humor. He thought about the silk shirt. Since the room was going to get hot he removed his jacket anyhow and sat down next to her.
He was exchanging greetings with her when a lady with long brown hair and incredibly long legs entered. She was not all that attractive at first glance, but there was something about those long legs and the way she moved that made her appealing. From her age, he guessed that she was a third or fourth year associate. From the way they greeted each other, he knew that she and Jane were friends. Jane introduced her as Shirley. Shirley sat down on the other side of Max.
The court reporter was a young, attractive brunette. Max admired her figure as he watched her set up her equipment. The next person to enter the room was a tall, dark, dapper gentleman, who was in his late thirties. His name was Roger, and it was obvious that he knew Jane and Shirley fairly well. Following on his heels were two other gentlemen. The one who introduced himself as the witness's attorney was in his mid to late forties. He had the calm, confident manner of someone who has seen it all before. The man who was introduced as the witness was a short, slightly overweight man of some fifty years of age. His nervousness gave the impression that he had not seen any of it before, at least not from the prospective of the person who was going to be questioned.
As the introductions were being made, the attorneys identified themselves and the parties they represented. Roger represented a group of plaintiffs. Both Jane and Shirley represented defendants who might have interests similar to those of Max's client.
Max stood up and leaned across the table to shake hands with the witness and his attorney. When he sank back into his chair he inadvertently let the sleeve of his long sleeved, silk shirt brush against Jane's bare arm.
"Oh, that's nice," she purred, and she started petting his arm and shoulder. "Feel his shirt," she invited Shirley.
"Ooo!" Shirley said as she lightly felt Max's shoulder and chest.
"My shorts are made out of the same material,” Max said.
Both ladies laughed. Shirley blushed and Jane demanded verification. The court reporter walked over to Max and joined the petting. It was at this point that the attorney who was holding the deposition entered the room. The expression on his face was both stern and quizzical. The witness, who was still laughing over Max's comment, found the expression hilarious.
"Don't ask," the witness's attorney advised.
"But I'm here to ask. So do you mind if we get started?"
The witness laughed a bit more and made some comment about Max cracking him up. He then took the oath. The deposing attorney went on to explain what a deposition was in methodical detail. He said that although the witness was properly called a deponent in this proceeding and there was no judge present to rule on the objections raised by the attorneys, the deponent was still testifying under oath and that his testimony would have the same force and effect as it would have if given in a court of law. The deponent listened patiently, answering, "I understand," at the appropriate times. He did this with a bemused expression on his face, and he kept glancing over at Max, as if he was expecting Max to do something comical.
The deposing attorney had just asked his first question when Jane gave in to the temptation to feel Max's shirt one more time. The deponent saw the feel and burst into laughter.
"You find that question funny?" the deposing attorney asked.
"It's not you," the deponent's attorney explained, "it's Jane."
"Well, that damn shirt drives me wild," Jane said as she rubbed her face on Max's sleeve.
"Not to mention his shorts," Shirley chimed in.
The deponent was now laughing so hard there were tears rolling down his cheeks.
"You had to have been here," Max said.
"Perhaps we should take five and let him regain control," the deponent's attorney suggested.
"At this rate we'll be here for the next three days," the deposing attorney groused.
The deponent settled down, however, and the questioning proceeded at an orderly pace. At the noon break, Jane and Shirley asked Max if he would like to join them and Roger for launch. The waitress had just brought their drinks to the table when Jane apologized for missing the wedding of Shirley’s younger sister.
"How was the ceremony?" she asked.
"It was so beautiful I almost cried.”
"I cried at mine," Max told them.
"Did you really," Jane asked incredulously.
"Yeah, but they made me go through with it anyhow."
Roger found this jest so amusing that he blew his drink up into his sinuses and out his nose. He then sat there choking. A nearby waitress dutifully began mopping up the table.
"I know my comment was tasteless, but you didn't have to spit up over it, Roger.”
This caught the waitress in mid-swipe. She started to laugh, and the laughter caused her to knock a full glass of water right into Roger's lap.
"Oh, good method!" Max cheered. "Yes, sir. A shot of ice water to the crotch will make a choking victim shout the obstruction out of his throat every time."
At his point Max heard a familiar laugh, which he could not place.
"If you felt that way, why did you ask her?" Shirley asked.
"I didn't exactly.”
"Oh, don't tell me your going to give me that old shit about her asking you.”
"Persistent, these female attorney's," Roger said, after coughing the last of the moisture out of his throat. "Truculent too."
Shirley was still waiting for Max’s Reply.
“You know, it took me a long time to figure it out, but here's what I think happened," Max began. "I met this beautiful woman, and the more time a spent with her the more time I wanted to spend with her. We eventually wound up moving in together. It was wonderful. I mean, we pampered and spoiled and really tried to please each other
Then, one fateful day, I found myself engaged in this great moral battle, her high against my low, and she had all the weapons! Yes, I know, clergymen of all faiths are always warning you about the temptations of sin, and I'll concede that it's all too easy to stray from the path of righteousness. Straying from the path and staying off that path, however, are two entirely different things. This is particularly true when an attractive, unscrupulous woman is trying to get you back on it. And believe me, my ex-wife was unscrupulous. She used sex, food, tears, appeals to conscience, and appeals to my friends and family to get me to do what she wanted. All I had to pit against this onslaught was my own pitiful will, and it was not enough.
I'll never forget how she caught me off guard one day and got me to concede that it might be okay to get married sometime. What I had in mind was twenty or so years from then, but at the very first opportunity she told my mother we were engaged. And my mother -- this dear, sweet lady who had nurtured me and cared for me and had never wished me anything but the best -- upon hearing that a date had not been set for the nuptials, took my ex aside and said to her: 'Listen, honey. Don't you worry about where or who will be there. You concentrate on when. Pin that irresponsible bastard down!'"Roger and the familiar laugh found Max's explanation quite funny. Jane also seemed to be amused by it, but it was given a frosty reception by Shirley. She expressed her agreement with Max's mother. Max smiled to let her know he did not have any hard feelings about her reaction to what he thought was a humorous story. It took a while, but she eventually smiled back at him.
Max’s explanation and the reaction to it had consumed quite a bit of time. They all realized it would now take some rapid mastication to down the meal and get back to the law firm at the appointed hour. The upshot was that they were twenty minutes late. This was all right because the familiar laugh turned out to be the deponent, and he and his attorney also arrived at the firm twenty minutes late.
The receptionist was just returning to her desk from some errand when everyone entered the lobby of the firm. She glanced over at them, noticed Roger's wet trousers and began to snicker. Trying to cover his embarrassment, Roger then waxed poetic.
"Anyone who goes to lunch with that son of a bitch," he said, pointing at Max, "is risking a choking and an ice water soaking."
"It looks like an inside job to me," Max observed, and Roger called him an asshole.
The receptionist was now laughing vigorously. Feeling the need to be steadied, she reached out and touched the front of Max's silk shirt.
"Mmmm!" she cooed.
"His shorts are made out of the same material," Jane and Shirley simultaneously informed her.
"Oh, nice going, ladies!" Max said with raised voice and feigned irritation. "Now the whole place knows I'm an easy lay!"
"Oh, shit!" Shirley shrieked.
"Why you outrageous son of a bitch!" Jane said.
In spite of their protests, both women were laughing. Above their laughter rose the playful cry of the receptionist.
"I want to see your underpants!"
It was at the very height of this hullabaloo that the deposing attorney stuck his head out through the doorway of the room in which the deposition was supposed to be taking place. Being a man of short temper and strong language, he made some reference to fornication and the disruption of his law firm. He then asked what the hell was going on. But before anyone could explain, he demanded that they get on with the deposition.
Everyone accept the deponent and his attorney suppressed their mirth and took their places in the conference room. The deposing attorney then went on the record. He complained bitterly about everyone being late and what he described as the party atmosphere. When he finished, the deponent's attorney entered the room without the deponent.
"Where's the deponent?" the deposing attorney demanded.
"I'm afraid Mr. Stevens has done it to him again. He's out there laughing hysterically. Every time he just about gets it under control someone else starts laughing and gets him going again."
"Well, I want him in here now, and I expect you people to start acting like attorneys and to stop treating this deposition like some Goddamn farce!"
The deponent was red faced and still struggling for control when he entered the room. The deposing attorney took one look at him and said: "I want to go on the record as warning you about the seriousness of this proceeding."
"He understands," the deponent's attorney said.
"Sorry," the deponent said, “but Jesus that was funny!"
"You understand that we are now on the record, don't you?" the deposing attorney asked.
The deponent answered that he did, and with that everyone settled down again. The deposition was proceeding smoothly until the deposing attorney asked if the heater to the topping plant had a back flush valve.
"Yes," the deponent answered.
"And what would happen if someone left the back flush valve open?"
"You mean while the heater was running?" the deponent asked in disbelief.
"Well... Okay, while the heater was running?"
At this point the deponent seemed to be at a loss for words so Max thought he would help. "He'd burn his biltong," Max suggested.
Everyone except the deponent greeted this comment with a blank stare. "Perfect," the deponent uttered between guffaws, "the perfect answer."
"You and Mr. Stevens seem to have a private joke," the deposing attorney said. "Would you like to let the rest of us in on it."
This made the deponent laugh harder, and he shook his head no.
"All right, then. Why did you say it was the perfect answer?"
"Because that’s what someone would have to be doing to let it happen, and that’s what would happen to him if he did."
"I don't understand. Perhaps... What is the meaning of the word biltong?"
"Jerked meat," the deponent howled, and the room turned into pandemonium.
"What was that word again?" someone inquired."How do you spell it?" the court reporter asked."Objection!" the deposing attorney shouted."I can't believe you said that," Shirley giggled."That's our Max," Jane said, patting him on the back."Objection!" the deposing attorney shouted again.
The court reporter put two fingers in her mouth and interrupted the cacophony with a shrill whistle.
"Give me a break, folks! I can't take all of you down at once."
"Then take me down," the deposing attorney demanded, causing still more laughter. "I object, Mr. Stevens. I object to you giving this witness answers. I object to the vulgarity of the answer you gave him..."
"Prig," Jane muttered under her breath.
"And I object, sir, to the way you have constantly disrupted these proceedings."
"Counselor," Max replied. "You leave me no choice but to respond on the record. While I'll admit that my comment may not have been in the best of taste, I have not, until this very moment, done anything by word or by gesture to interrupt or disrupt this deposition, and any contention to the contrary is a falsehood."
"Does that mean your going to make a gesture?" Shirley teased.
"She's hoping you'll moon him," Jane said.
"Oh, no," Shirley objected. "I want that stricken from the record."
"No, Goddamnit! No, that stays," the deposing attorney shouted. "I want the judge to see the kind of shit you're pulling."
The deponent's attorney was enjoying the exchange so much that he could not resist joining in. "Do you also want His Honor to see the kind of language you're using?"
"That behavior deserves strong language! In fact, I'm thinking of adjourning this deposition and asking for its resumption under a special master to control you people."
There followed a heated exchange in which everyone agreed to curtail all levity. Surprisingly enough, the deposition was concluded that day.
On his flight home, Max began to think about his use of the word "biltong" on the record. He knew he had gone too far. He was afraid there might be some repercussions at the law firm. By morning, however, his fears had dissipated. It usually took more than a week for a deposition transcript to arrive at the law firm. In the meantime, there were bound to be many motions that had to be written at the last minute and all kinds of distracting little emergencies to lessen the impact of his minor indiscretion. So it was with some degree of confidence that he greeted the receptionist at his firm.
"You have a message," she told him.
He thanked her as he took the message slip and read it. It said the partner wanted to see him immediately.
"By the way," she asked, "did you really say all those funny things when you were in San Diego?"
His heart took one giant leap and lodged in his throat. "Jesus Christ!" he thought. "What a pipeline those bastards have." Then he made himself calm down. He decided the worst that could happen would be a tongue lashing and a delay in receiving the interesting assignments he so dearly wanted. There was only one thing to do. He would march into the partner's office as bold as brass and have done with it.
Much to Max's surprise, the partner seemed to be in a festive mood. After making a few perfunctory remarks about the undesirability of using words such as "biltong" on the record, he told Max the deposition had gone pretty well.
"Apparently, the deposing attorney was so upset, he forgot to ask some potentially damaging questions about our client," the partner said. "Furthermore, Roger was so anxious to change out of those wet trousers that he also forgot to ask some potentially damaging questions." He then added that the main reason he had left Max the message was because he wanted Max to return the silk shirt as soon as possible.
"That damn thing has a lot of potential," he added with a grin.
First published in macsbackporch.blogspot.com on Mar. 26, 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment