Pride In My Stride

I am a person on the move. You know who I am. I am the quick breeze that passes you by on your leisurely walk back from getting a cup of coffee. I'm the loud burst out of the office just a couple of minutes late to a meeting or seconds from an important filing deadline. Yeah, I’m the Tasmanian Devil on espresso. I'm a lawyer who takes pride in my stride.

See, when I need to go somewhere I want people to know that I mean business. And by business I mean the business of being busy. I don't have time to take a break from my robust legal career to go calmly from place to place. I need to be where I'm needed and I need to be there fast. Sometimes I might be darting to the copier or running to the mailroom to get something out via FedEx. Sometimes I'll just hold off on going to the bathroom so I need to take an emergency dash. But you'll never know whether I just received a call from Mother Nature or the Practice Group Leader. Why won't you know? Because I'm walking so fast you don't have time to ask me any questions.

Sometimes I'll even bark something loudly to my secretary so that I can fluff my feathers for those within earshot. "Hey Janet, I'm off to a meeting, I'll be back in an hour or two so send my calls to voicemail, k?!? Sure, Janet always ignores my calls and they go to voicemail anyway, but that's neither here nor there. I'm not doing it for her, I'm doing it for the show - my show.

Sometimes maybe I'll even get a text message as I'm burning the carpet on my way to the bathroom. You want to see poetry in motion? Watch me respond to an email from my Mom and get a text pic from my girlfriend while I’m on my way to be fashionably late to a meeting with my document review team.

Oh no. Would you look at that?! It's seven and I've got some big-time plans tonight. Ok, not really, but I'm spent. It's high time I hightailed it out of with a couple of long sighs as I'm passing by the partners' offices. Maybe I’ll even drop a grunt of frustration on my fly-by of my fourth year associate crush. That way she’ll hopefully look up to see that I'm carting my laptop and a couple of old files out the door so that I can burn the midnight oil with a carton of Chinese food like Tom Cruise in the Firm.

Do I need my computer to redact the files I’m taking with me for privilege? No, but who knows when a research assignment could hit. With the speed I'm moving, you just never know.