Introducing Kennedy

Really, I should call him Bush, because he's a bit of a prick like Bush is, but he's sort of handsome, like Kennedy was, and somewhat smooth, so we're going with Kennedy.

Kennedy is a partner. His secretary was Drunk Granny. He's a baby partner, having not yet been one for an entire year yet. He's a bit of a Bush in that his father is Somebody Important, and his family has a lot of connections in the city, and that's smoothed his way through, well, life. Kennedy never wears jeans on Dress Down Fridays.

We won't mention that his family owns a fancy restaurant that I ate at once and got food poisoning from.

Kennedy is the type of guy to give you The Nod. Kennedy is the type to dismiss you if you're (in his eyes) beneath him, can be of no help to him, are of no consequence to him. Kennedy has two little kids, the older is friends with Tuna's oldest kid. Tuna is a pretty straight forward, wholesome nice guy, with a nice family. Wealthy? Sure, but still nice. Kennedy is extra fake with a side order of superficial. I have a hard time seeing how they're friends outside of work, but they are.

Anyway. Kennedy and I aren't in the same practice group, but the head partner in his group does a lot of work with Nice Partner. A few months ago both groups all went out for lunch together, to Tommy Toys. I wound up sitting between Head Partner and Kennedy. Drunk Granny warned me that Kennedy eats off people's plates. I thought the alcohol was speaking, but no. He would poke at something on my plate and ask if I was going to eat it. It amused me (except when he wanted the vanilla prawns I liked so much). We had a nice lunch. I later went back to that restaurant (this should be another post) to celebrate a friend's birthday.

You may have gathered that I am not the smoothest in social situations. At that lunch I took all known precautions, like asking lots of open-ended questions, not ordering messy foods, etc. The lunch went well. I tried lots of new foods, nobody said anything about the fact that I only drank water, I understood everything that was said around me, nobody made mention that I was the youngest person there by ten years. It was the first time Kennedy and I ever talked. I could tell he didn't really want to be stuck having to talk to me, but that's his tough shit. Maybe at the next lunch he'll get to the table sooner, and if he's lucky, he'll get to sit next to LEL instead of me. Yeah, come the lunch after that, he'll be BEGGING to sit next to me again. I'm sure of it - mark this blog entry.

Ahem. A few months after that lunch, when Kennedy's second baby was born, I stopped by his office to congratulate him. I appropriately cooed over his baby pictures (she really *is* cute). He seemed touched. Genuinely or not, I couldn't say - Kennedy lays it on thick. But it was the first time he ever looked me in the eyes instead of looking through me, so ever since then I've taken to asking how his kids are about once a month. He always thanks me for asking. He never asks how I am, and I'm sure it's never occurred to him to wonder whether or not I have a family he should be asking after. I'm inconsequential to him. People who look like me can't possibly have any connections to people who would be useful to him. I understand how his game is played.

One day, Drunk Granny told me that she accidentally walked in on Kennedy when he was very stressed. She found him in his office speaking into his tape recorder saying, "Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you." Then he'd rewind/erase it only to start all over again. "Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you." Lather, rinse, repeat. I can't explain why, but knowing this made me like Kennedy a little bit more.

On Friday, Drunk Granny's last day, a bunch of us were standing around her desk as she was getting ready to leave when Kennedy walked by. They've worked together for years. Drunk Granny knitted a blanket for Kennedy's new baby. Kennedy gave Drunk Granny an expensive vase his mother gave him that he didn't like. The two have gone out drinking together. They have a close relationship. I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when Kennedy interrupted us to shake Drunk Granny's hand. He then said something to the effect of, "Drunk Granny, it's been a pleasure. I couldn't have gotten where I am today without you, and you'll be sorely missed. Please don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

There was something about Kennedy's tone that made me look a little closer at what was going on. Sure, it was oddly formal. But that's how Kennedy is. He employs the "When in doubt, always go more formal" method of living. Word on the Grandma Hallway is that Kennedy didn't talk to Drunk Granny for two days after he found out she was quitting, and that his wife had to calm him down. I'd dismissed that as unimportant information, but after Kennedy's speech it floated to the front of my brain. I looked at Kennedy as he smiled too brightly at Drunk Granny, watching as he walked away. Then I realized what was happening.

Kennedy almost cried! He had to walk away so as not to cry in front of all of us!

When I reported this to Nice Partner, who was upset that he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Drunk Granny, his response was, "What a pussy." (To be frank, Nice Partner's not been quite so nice lately. I'm chalking it up to the fact that our trial is coming back in a couple of weeks (it was extended) and he's stressed.)

A replacement hasn't yet been found for Drunk Granny, and I'm concerned that Kennedy may come to me to do work for him. I'm telling you now, I won't do it. Oh, I'll say yes with a smile of course, but all his work will get farmed out to Word Processing. There is barely enough time for me to keep up with all the internet surfing I have to do, let alone deal with yet a THIRD partner giving me work? No way. Get LEL to do it - she isn't busy reading blogs and newspapers from states she used to live in. LEL only looks at websites that have lots of pictures.

Anyway, if you've got legal secretary experience, are in the Bay Area looking for a job, and are under 35 (because we need some younger blood in the Grandma Hallway), let me know and I'll see about getting you an interview. I'm dying to get the finder's fee!