We have met the enemy, and he is us

The project I am on involves several law firms, each using different agencies, doing different aspects of the project for the client. The agency I work for is retained by one law firm, and we are handling one aspect for the client, while another agency and another law firm are handling another aspect for the client. Same project, different tasks. Left hand, right hand. This project also has a third law firm (again using their own agency) handling yet another aspect of the project, but we won't get into that because I don't know what to do with a middle hand. I like to think of us as the right hand, but I digress.

In any event, yesterday we (and by we, I mean the contract attorneys working for the agency, law firm and client that I am working for -- the right hand) were informed that the law firm handling the left hand's task wanted our help. The CA's of the right hand were called to a meeting to have the attorneys of the firm from the left hand explain to us what we needed to do. In this way, the left hand would know what the right hand was doing. Fuck the middle hand -- they aren't part of this.

So 200 CA's employed by the right hand gather to be instructed by the left hand. The sight is every bit as impressive as you might imagine if you have been paying attention here. The room is crowded, and half the CA's have no chair. Some are sitting on the floor. So far, no problem. But right up front, where the law firm attorney from the left hand is standing, ready to instruct us, are at least two reasons why he should run screaming from the room rather than trust us to handle this task. To his credit, he does not flee. At his feet, LYING ON THE FLOOR, is a very round -- I am talking SPHERICAL -- contract attorney. He makes no effort to sit up or otherwise appear human. He simply lies there. He looks like there should be a harpoon poking out of him and a man named Ahab standing over him.

Sitting on the floor right next to him -- at least he's upright -- is another CA who could sit on a park bench full of drunken homeless people and blend right in. Maybe the greasy hair, dirty clothes and fairly strong smell of alcohol are masking an Ivy League education and world-class intellect, but is that the way to bet?

Undeterred by the two fine legal minds on the floor in front of him, the attorney from the left hand began to lay out what they wanted us to help with. The task involved a little of This and That. The CA's working for the left-hand firm had done both This and That. Everyone was satisfied with how This was done, but wanted more work done on That. We, the right hand, were not to mess with This, working only to improve That.

The left-hand attorney distributed some instructional hand-outs, explained what to do with That, reiterated that we need not concern ourselves with This, and asked for questions. Fool. Most of the questions dealt with topics already covered in his presentation, including what to do about This, leading to the inescapable conclusion that the questioners weren't listening.

Oddly enough, today we were told that our assistance with That was no longer required. Go figure. I'm sure the impression made by Moby and the hobo had nothing to do with that decision.