To Tell the Truth

by Vera Tass

My office, early evening. I can't believe what just happened. After I've pulled three all-nighters in as many days, Kirk - the most vile M&A partner at this torture camp of a law firm - dropped into my office to tell me that he'd need me to stay through the night (again) to wait for some documents from Hong Kong. I just ... snapped.

I stood up at my desk, grabbed my keys, looked Kirk in the eye and told him that if he thought I was taking one more breath in this building he was more of a delusional slave-driver than everyone already gives him credit for. And, I added, "If you have any problem with it, you can kiss ... that 26-year-old secretary from Biz Dev who everybody totally knows you're having an affair with."

Kirk glared at me for a moment, eyes bulging, his mouth twitching with rage. But then his lips broke into a slight smirk, even a smile. "Do what you have to do," he said. And then he was gone.

Oh my God, did that really just happen, or am I hallucinating?? Is that all it takes to stand up to a lunatic partner? Just a little brutal honesty? Why didn't I realize that sooner? I feel so free, so powerful, so -

And then I wake up.

Goddammit.

My bed, early morning, lying awake. Why is it that the only time that I can ever tell the people I work with what I really think of them is when I'm dreaming? And what was I doing dreaming about work anyway? What kind of a loser spends her precious few nonbillable hours dreaming about some old troll of a partner instead of, say, an aspiring actor-slash-model type with soccer legs and unlimited flexibility? Oh God, my life can't really be this pathetic.

Brushing teeth, morning. Still can't shake the dream.

Office parking garage, morning. I'm already late for work, and now Lyle, a senior partner only slightly less personable than Osama Bin Laden, is approaching the elevator bank with me. Great. He makes a show of looking at his watch and then at me. "Slept in?" he smirks. A catalogue of the usual lies runs through my head ("early client meeting" ... "car drama" ... "oral surgery" ...) but as I'm about to respond I think of the dream scene with Kirk, and the power and exhilaration of just blurting out the truth. I look over at Lyle. Hmmm.

"Yup," I say, not making eye contact. "Kirk's been working me like a slave, so I figured I'd catch up on sleep for one night." I sneak a glance up at Lyle - he looks at me like my head just rotated in place Exorcist - style, but then shakes his head and cracks a smile. "That's our Kirk." The elevator opens at Lyle's floor and he turns back to me, still grinning. "Don't let our boy work you too hard, now," he says and actually winks.

This time, I know I'm definitely not dreaming.

My office, morning. Phone's ringing - it's Janelle from recruiting, wanting to know if I can take a new hire out to a first-day lunch. I don't want to waste my time. Then again. I think back to my exchange with Lyle. Maybe there's something to be gained ...

"Guy or a girl?" I ask.

"Um, a guy. Name's Hugo."

"Is he cute?" I ask. She pauses. "Um ... I don't know how to respond to that. He has a beard and he lists 'horticulture' and 'competitive chess' as his hobbies in the orientation facebook, if that helps."

"It does, Janelle, it does. And I'll pass on lunch, thanks."

This honesty thing is getting easier.

My office, later morning. I get a call from Donnie, my senior associate supervisor from the SkyPark Holdings deal that died weeks ago. I pick up the phone. "Heyyy," Donnie echoes through my speakerphone. "Look, SkyPark's coming back. Do you want to take a stab at updating the purchase agreement?"

The truth will set you free, the truth will set you free ...

"Nope. Not at all," I offer, oiling the gears of the veritable truth-telling machine that I've become. "Actually, there are about 600 things I 'want' more than that." I hold my breath, but Donnie only starts laughing.

"Good one, good one. OK, so coordinate with Prager to get the latest draft and see what you can get me by 3."

Huh.

Conference room, early afternoon. Am stuck doing a last-minute interview with some summer associate candidate. This kid looks so eager, so excited to be here. "So," he asks, leather portfolio in his lap, "Do you like working here?"

Oh, honey, you couldn't have asked me on a better day.

Elevator bank, dropping off the interviewee. Aaaaand this is the last time they'll bug me to do an interview, I'm guessing.

My office, mid-afternoon. Janelle from recruiting is calling again. "OK, what did you say during that interview?" she asks. I take a deep breath. "Well ... I was just being honest, actually."

She chuckles, "Well, whatever you said worked."

"Huh?"

"The kid couldn't stop raving about you and the firm. Nice job. Can I schedule you for three more interviews next week?"

My office, late afternoon. Heading out the door to get an afternoon Starbucks fix when the phone rings. It's Donnie again. He needs me to draft a confidentiality agreement in the next hour for SkyPark. An hour? Time to fire up that truth machine again.

"If I don't have a choice, fine," I say, laying the honesty on thick. "But just so you know, I'm going to bill an extra hour to it because you're making me go through caffeine withdrawal."

Donnie laughs. "Hell, bill two, then. You're a rock star!"

OK, what am I doing wrong??

My office, early evening. I'm close to packing up for the night when Kirk swings by. God help me.

"So, I hear from ol' Lyle that I'm working you like a slave, huh?" he says.

Stay strong, stay strong!

"I just meant that ... well, yeah. I've been here for 18 hours a day for the past two weeks. I just ... wanted to get home before midnight for once."

I see Kirk's eyes soften. "Well, good for you for being honest, kiddo. You're getting quite a reputation for it." He turns to leave my office. "Do whatever you have to do."

I'm speechless. There's no way that just happened! I can't believe my ...

Kirk pops his head back in. "Just one more thing. While you're off doing whatever you have to do, just make sure you get a revised draft of the SPA on my desk by 7 a.m."

My office, still. It's 1 a.m. Or 2 a.m. Actually, I stopped looking at the clock after midnight. With any luck I'll be home by sunrise, to sleep, perchance to dream ... about a place that cannot possibly be, where truth reigns supreme and honesty always pays.

Vera Tass is a pseudonym for an associate at a large national law firm.

---