done it. “I really am sorry I have to miss it,” I murmured.
He pressed his mouth right next to my ear and whispered. “Don’t worry. You totally got this.”
5
“O KAY .” I LOOKED AROUND the table, feeling puffed up because I was the most senior associate in the room. It was our first meeting in the “war room”—a conference room on the thirtieth floor that was reserved indefinitely for “Project Mojo,” the codename given for the deal. As first year associates, Gavin Shin, Patrick O’Shea, and Sheldon Laurie were too junior to attend the kick-off meeting, so I was responsible for filling them in on what happened and doling out the specific duties. When Ben had referred to the first years as my “team” I had the sudden realization that I’d never had a team before. Sadir was right—I was moving up in the world.
I had worked with each of my team members before, so I had a good idea what to expect. Gavin was the oldest of the three, having taken off two years between college and law school to figure out what he wanted to do. This made him hungry to catch up for lost time, so he worked around the clock to prove that he should be considered better than his peers. He always jumped at the opportunity to have face time with a partner and was often the last one to leave the office. Rumor had it his work ethic was fueled by his pesky cocaine habit which quickly became obvious to anyone who worked with him.
Sheldon was the polar opposite. He was a devout Mormon, whose work was always meticulous. His attention to detail would have been enviable if there was no timeline, but on this deal it was going to be irritating. Last time I worked with him it took him five hours to review one supply agreement. Then he came to my office distressed that the contract contained a lot of grammatical errors. I had to explain to him that the quality of drafting was not an issue for us. Our responsibility was solely to summarize it, but he looked at me like a Labrador trying to understand his master, cocking his head from one side to the other in confusion. In Sheldon’s world his job included editing previously executed contracts. So, despite my explanation and plea to work faster, his summary included a long list of supposed grammatical errors in the contract, all of which were insignificant.
Patrick, on the other hand, was a barrel-chested, quick-witted Irish Catholic from Boston who always said he didn’t have time for bullshit. And to Patrick, everything was bullshit. You need him to revise his work? Bullshit! The cafeteria is out of fried chicken? Bullshit! It’s raining? Bullshit! I couldn’t give him the responsibility of coordinating the paralegals or giving instructions to the specialists because I knew he’d come across as brash and aggressive, thereby creating more problems than it was worth. But his work quality was better than Gavin’s and quicker than Sheldon’s, so that made him my favorite.
Grasping my hands in front of me, sitting ramrod straight, I mustered my best power-commanding tone. “Highlander Hotels has thousands of corporate documents, contracts, and policies relating to their hotels around the world and each one has to be reviewed. They’re posting the documents in an online data room and for confidentiality reasons they’re not permitting us to print them. So, we’ll work from this checklist.” I slid three copies of the 177-page stapled checklist across the table.
“Holy crap,” Patrick muttered, flipping through the pages.
“I know it’s a lot of work, but I’m really going to need your one hundred percent on it,” I said in a tone I hoped was motivating rather than pleading. “So, let’s get started.” Taking a deep breath, I flipped open the first page of the checklist.
Two weeks into our efforts, Ben called the first status meeting. Reviewing my notes one final time before I headed to Ben’s office, atiny smile played at my lips. I’d been up for twenty-six hours
He pressed his mouth right next to my ear and whispered. “Don’t worry. You totally got this.”
5
“O KAY .” I LOOKED AROUND the table, feeling puffed up because I was the most senior associate in the room. It was our first meeting in the “war room”—a conference room on the thirtieth floor that was reserved indefinitely for “Project Mojo,” the codename given for the deal. As first year associates, Gavin Shin, Patrick O’Shea, and Sheldon Laurie were too junior to attend the kick-off meeting, so I was responsible for filling them in on what happened and doling out the specific duties. When Ben had referred to the first years as my “team” I had the sudden realization that I’d never had a team before. Sadir was right—I was moving up in the world.
I had worked with each of my team members before, so I had a good idea what to expect. Gavin was the oldest of the three, having taken off two years between college and law school to figure out what he wanted to do. This made him hungry to catch up for lost time, so he worked around the clock to prove that he should be considered better than his peers. He always jumped at the opportunity to have face time with a partner and was often the last one to leave the office. Rumor had it his work ethic was fueled by his pesky cocaine habit which quickly became obvious to anyone who worked with him.
Sheldon was the polar opposite. He was a devout Mormon, whose work was always meticulous. His attention to detail would have been enviable if there was no timeline, but on this deal it was going to be irritating. Last time I worked with him it took him five hours to review one supply agreement. Then he came to my office distressed that the contract contained a lot of grammatical errors. I had to explain to him that the quality of drafting was not an issue for us. Our responsibility was solely to summarize it, but he looked at me like a Labrador trying to understand his master, cocking his head from one side to the other in confusion. In Sheldon’s world his job included editing previously executed contracts. So, despite my explanation and plea to work faster, his summary included a long list of supposed grammatical errors in the contract, all of which were insignificant.
Patrick, on the other hand, was a barrel-chested, quick-witted Irish Catholic from Boston who always said he didn’t have time for bullshit. And to Patrick, everything was bullshit. You need him to revise his work? Bullshit! The cafeteria is out of fried chicken? Bullshit! It’s raining? Bullshit! I couldn’t give him the responsibility of coordinating the paralegals or giving instructions to the specialists because I knew he’d come across as brash and aggressive, thereby creating more problems than it was worth. But his work quality was better than Gavin’s and quicker than Sheldon’s, so that made him my favorite.
Grasping my hands in front of me, sitting ramrod straight, I mustered my best power-commanding tone. “Highlander Hotels has thousands of corporate documents, contracts, and policies relating to their hotels around the world and each one has to be reviewed. They’re posting the documents in an online data room and for confidentiality reasons they’re not permitting us to print them. So, we’ll work from this checklist.” I slid three copies of the 177-page stapled checklist across the table.
“Holy crap,” Patrick muttered, flipping through the pages.
“I know it’s a lot of work, but I’m really going to need your one hundred percent on it,” I said in a tone I hoped was motivating rather than pleading. “So, let’s get started.” Taking a deep breath, I flipped open the first page of the checklist.
Two weeks into our efforts, Ben called the first status meeting. Reviewing my notes one final time before I headed to Ben’s office, atiny smile played at my lips. I’d been up for twenty-six hours
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