Thursday, August 03, 2006

Addicted to Lunch

This blog needs to be lightened up. So, at lunch, DS ran into Nuts & Boalts co-blogger Earl Warren yesterday at a well-established San Francisco restaurant. The clash of firms began, as the associates DS was with immediately wanted to know what firm EW was with and whether they knew anyone there.

More importantly, though, this meeting got DS thinking about other summers' lunch experiences. Any good stories out there? Gone over the allowed limit and had to cover it up by saying that others were in attendance when they weren't? How much was your most expensive lunch? Most awkward lunch moment involving a partner and Boaltie summer associate wins a kiss from Armen. Anywhere you want it.

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Blogger Tom Fletcher said...

Oh man, I can top that! We always eat in the firm lunch room, and one day, [redacted] walked in, just back from court in [redacted] and flush from his [redacted] before Judge [redacted]. So he starts out telling us "[redacted]."

No one could believe the story. How does that even happen? The din of laughter rumbled the walls of our [redacted] street offices. Then dessert came.

Damn, it was funny, but come to think of it, maybe you had to be there.

8/03/2006 1:27 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

at fancy dinner with partner emeritus with fellow summers and an associate. the partner was an elder statemen of the firm and "kind of a big deal" (let's just say "people knew [him]"). halfway through appetizers, and partner manages to cover half of his chin with a dark violet sauce from his antipasti—unbeknownst to him, mind you. he's blissfully unaware, going on about something or whatever (maybe it was about tying onions to his belt in his younger years, as was the style at that time). i can't remember so well, because i was wracking my brains trying to subtley inform him of the food on his chin in a way least damning to his dignity. i try everything: scratching my chin; my fellow summer and i start rubbing our chins furiously with hour napkins until our chins turn raw. no effect. and all the while, the partner is leading the conversation, being the center of attention (he's a litigator, go figure), so to inform him verbally would involve abruptly disrupting the flow of the conversation, and potentially embarrassing him. no one at that table, not even the associate (who later claimed "not to have seen it") had the cajones to call him out. So like 30 minutes go by, with all of us squirming, the partner still talking, and the purple sauce on his chin starting to solidify (I’m serious). At this point, there is No Way we tell him that he’s got half of his first course on his face. Could you imagine what he’d say? “You let me go on for 30 minutes with this shit on my face!? I’ll see that none of you get offers!” And then, a miracle. In a fit of gesticulation, he manages to brush his chin with his finger! And with it, 75% of the crap on his face is gone. I tell you, it was as if the hand of God Himself had rubbed that face. You could tell the tension had escaped that table, as we all laughed a little too comfortably at his next comment. (you could see in his face he was a little confused at what was up to that moment a relatively uncharacteristically unbridled response from us). However, our moment of relief was to be short-lived: soon after, he announces that he is going to the men’s room. This being a highly rated Zagat restaurant, and not some shitty dive bar, the chances were good that there’d be a mirror in the men’s room, and that he’d see the food on his face, which was, albeit, not as copious as it had been previously, but was noticeable nonetheless. The moment he left, panic gripped the table. “Did see that sauce on his face? What if he sees it in the bathroom? What if he asks about it? This place is really dark, maybe we can say that we thought it was a shadow? Yeah, a shadow, that’s the ticket? Do you think he’d notice if we left?” and on it went until he came back to the table. Silence as he made his way to his seat. Everyone was looking down at their plates. Comfortable in his place, he finally said… “So, what’s your favorite part of the summer program?” We looked up. The food was still on his face. He didn’t notice a thing! After that, we knew we were in the clear. Man we drank so much wine that night.

O, and in case you were wondering, the sweetbreads were fabulous.

8/03/2006 3:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

3:12 pm, you are my idol.

- anon O.99L

8/03/2006 5:54 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

you need to read Tucker Maxx. google him and learn.

8/03/2006 8:14 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I had a food fight with a bunch of drunk partners and summer associates. San francisco firms rock (i.e., are not as horrifying as others).

8/08/2006 6:49 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

food fight? in business casual?? i hope the firm paid for the dry cleaning bill.

8/08/2006 7:42 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

So when are offers usually made? Before you leave, a few days (or weeks) later?

8/10/2006 10:08 AM  

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