discount for his troubles—he was a soft target. The others, I should mention now, were a trickier bunch.
After the initial pleasantries (if you don’t know what pleasantries are—I didn’t for years—they’re the “Hello, how are you doing,” ordering-drinks part of the introductions), I pulled the tape recorder from my pocket and showed it to Gerard.
“I need to record this for proof,” I said.
“Seriously?” Gerard replied.
“She needs evidence. Otherwise she’ll accuse me of deliberate sabotage or bribery.”
“Bribery?”
“You know, like I offer you twenty bucks or an extra 10 percent off future work if you just tell my mother that we had drinks and a few laughs, but I’m not the girl for you, which is what you’re going to tell her anyway.”
“I’m confused, Isabel.”
“Cards on the table, Gerard.”
“Oh, good.”
“I have a boyfriend. My mother loathes him. If I date two lawyers a month, she leaves him alone.” 1
“If you don’t?”
“She calls the INS, the IRS, any governmental organization with three letters, and then, if that doesn’t work, she drops by the bar—”
“The bar?”
“He’s a bartender.”
“I see.”
“She drops by his bar with empty threats, which don’t seem empty to people who are not well acquainted with her.”
“I guess I should be glad she works for me,” Gerard said, appearing mildly stunned and a little bit tired.
Gerard drained his martini; I turned on the digital recorder once I got his nod of approval.
[Partial transcript reads as follows:]
ISABEL : So, Gerard, tell me about yourself.
GERARD : What do you want to know?
ISABEL : Tell me everything. I want to know everything there is to know about you.
GERARD : Waiter, can I get another drink?
WAITER : Ma’am, would you like another?
ISABEL : Yes, and make that the last time you call me “ma’am.”
[Long pause.]
ISABEL : Go on, Gerard. Tell me your life story.
GERARD : Two parents. One sister. Primary school. College. Law school. Lawyer. Married. No children. Divorced. Still lawyer.
ISABEL : Wow. That was succinct.
GERARD : I’ve always admired brevity.
ISABEL : Me too. Except when I have fifteen minutes of tape to fill.
GERARD : Isabel, I’m a lawyer, not an actor.
ISABEL : If you want that discount my mom offered you, you better become one really fast.
[End of tape.]
In the end, after four martinis and two more hours of rehearsal time, Gerard finally stepped up and played the part of a drunk lawyer on an uncomfortable first date.
When I played the evidence for my mother, she furrowed her brow with concern and said, “What did you do to him, Isabel? He sounds drunk and . . . depressed.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I don’t think there will be a second date.”
According to script, Gerard called my mother the next day and said, “We had some drinks, some laughs, but I don’t think we’re a good match.”
As usual, my mother needed more information.
“Why not?”
“Your daughter scares me.”
Mom gave Gerard her secret hangover cure and got off the phone.
“Isabel, you better get on board with this.”
“I did what you asked,” I replied.
“Do it better.”
“Why?”
“Because Connor is not the man for you, and I would like you to get out more to see that.”
“Mom, I’m thirty-two years old. How is this any of your business?”
“I’m your mother and I have a stake in your happiness. I also have very, very serious dirt on you. This is how I want to leverage it.”
“You scare me,” I said.
“And I love you,” Mom replied.
DAVID’S NEW FRIEND/MY NEW CLIENT
To remain marginally in my mother’s good graces and spare Connor an impromptu visit, I decided to investigate what David was doing with all of his free time.
David’s mystery woman was indeed blond, curvy, and unnaturally tall—attractive in the vein of a 1940s movie star. Her hips tested the limits of her A-line skirt and the buttons on her blouse were on the borderline of
After the initial pleasantries (if you don’t know what pleasantries are—I didn’t for years—they’re the “Hello, how are you doing,” ordering-drinks part of the introductions), I pulled the tape recorder from my pocket and showed it to Gerard.
“I need to record this for proof,” I said.
“Seriously?” Gerard replied.
“She needs evidence. Otherwise she’ll accuse me of deliberate sabotage or bribery.”
“Bribery?”
“You know, like I offer you twenty bucks or an extra 10 percent off future work if you just tell my mother that we had drinks and a few laughs, but I’m not the girl for you, which is what you’re going to tell her anyway.”
“I’m confused, Isabel.”
“Cards on the table, Gerard.”
“Oh, good.”
“I have a boyfriend. My mother loathes him. If I date two lawyers a month, she leaves him alone.” 1
“If you don’t?”
“She calls the INS, the IRS, any governmental organization with three letters, and then, if that doesn’t work, she drops by the bar—”
“The bar?”
“He’s a bartender.”
“I see.”
“She drops by his bar with empty threats, which don’t seem empty to people who are not well acquainted with her.”
“I guess I should be glad she works for me,” Gerard said, appearing mildly stunned and a little bit tired.
Gerard drained his martini; I turned on the digital recorder once I got his nod of approval.
[Partial transcript reads as follows:]
ISABEL : So, Gerard, tell me about yourself.
GERARD : What do you want to know?
ISABEL : Tell me everything. I want to know everything there is to know about you.
GERARD : Waiter, can I get another drink?
WAITER : Ma’am, would you like another?
ISABEL : Yes, and make that the last time you call me “ma’am.”
[Long pause.]
ISABEL : Go on, Gerard. Tell me your life story.
GERARD : Two parents. One sister. Primary school. College. Law school. Lawyer. Married. No children. Divorced. Still lawyer.
ISABEL : Wow. That was succinct.
GERARD : I’ve always admired brevity.
ISABEL : Me too. Except when I have fifteen minutes of tape to fill.
GERARD : Isabel, I’m a lawyer, not an actor.
ISABEL : If you want that discount my mom offered you, you better become one really fast.
[End of tape.]
In the end, after four martinis and two more hours of rehearsal time, Gerard finally stepped up and played the part of a drunk lawyer on an uncomfortable first date.
When I played the evidence for my mother, she furrowed her brow with concern and said, “What did you do to him, Isabel? He sounds drunk and . . . depressed.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I don’t think there will be a second date.”
According to script, Gerard called my mother the next day and said, “We had some drinks, some laughs, but I don’t think we’re a good match.”
As usual, my mother needed more information.
“Why not?”
“Your daughter scares me.”
Mom gave Gerard her secret hangover cure and got off the phone.
“Isabel, you better get on board with this.”
“I did what you asked,” I replied.
“Do it better.”
“Why?”
“Because Connor is not the man for you, and I would like you to get out more to see that.”
“Mom, I’m thirty-two years old. How is this any of your business?”
“I’m your mother and I have a stake in your happiness. I also have very, very serious dirt on you. This is how I want to leverage it.”
“You scare me,” I said.
“And I love you,” Mom replied.
DAVID’S NEW FRIEND/MY NEW CLIENT
To remain marginally in my mother’s good graces and spare Connor an impromptu visit, I decided to investigate what David was doing with all of his free time.
David’s mystery woman was indeed blond, curvy, and unnaturally tall—attractive in the vein of a 1940s movie star. Her hips tested the limits of her A-line skirt and the buttons on her blouse were on the borderline of
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