Open Letters to People or Entities Who Are Unlikely to Respond
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An Open Letter to My Italian Slacks That Ripped at the Seam Just Prior to Deposition.
I can’t believe your awful timing. It normally requires all of my focus and concentration to keep my deposition outline and exhibits in order, but now I’m forced to contend with the very real possibility that our court reporter will spot my underpants through the gaping hole in my pant-ass.
Yes, I have put on weight since we first came together, and I probably should have powered up my laptop while I was standing, instead of performing the task while positioned in a deep catcher’s stance alongside the conference table. I figured I might as well stay down, since I was already crouched to plug the laptop’s power cord into the floor outlet. What a mistake!
Great, here comes opposing counsel with a smarmy look on his face. He must know something is up. He probably heard your ass-seam explode. You completely ripped apart on me. I definitely wasn’t expecting this from high-end slacks. I thought you were cut from fine Italian wool. This rip must be ten inches long. It extends to the back of my thighs. This is worse than I thought. Alright, I’ll un-tuck my button-down shirt. Hopefully the back of my shirt will conceal the otherwise unfettered view of my pant-less rear end. They might think I’m a sloppy dresser, but I can live with that.
Terrific, here comes the deponent. I heard from my client that the deponent is a meth addict, but he looks surprisingly smart in his suit. Looks like he just got a haircut, too. This is a disaster. I feel like the village idiot. My button-down is completely wrinkled where it had previously been tucked into the slacks, and even with the shirt un-tucked, I think my bare thighs and the bottom half of my underpants are still visible below the shirt line. If I can somehow remain seated until noon, I’ll suggest an hour-long lunch break. I’m pretty sure there’s a mall nearby. I’ll buy a pair of navy Dockers during the break, and nobody will be the wiser. I’ll tuck my shirt into the Dockers for the afternoon session, and the others will assume that I absentmindedly un-tucked my shirt during the morning session, and then corrected the mistake during lunch. Perfect. Now I just need to stay calm and remain seated until noon.
Oh boy, I feel the back of my bare thighs against my leather chair. Let me slide the chair slightly further under the conference table while the deponent continues to answer my question about the lingering effects of his “alleged” neck injury. Wow, the guy gave a pretty decent answer. He is believable, I’ll give him that. Yesterday I thought this guy was full of shit, but here in person he really does make a good witness. And he sure looks good in that suit. I don’t think my client was right about this guy. Doesn’t seem like a meth addict at all. Maybe he’s kicked the habit. Is it possible that my client has been lying to me this whole time? Holy crap! I can now see the front of my underpants. The entire pant seam must have been destroyed. Thank God for my belt, or I might be completely pant-less right now.
Alright, we’re almost at noon. I think I’ll make it. I’ll let the deponent finish his explanation about the cell phone records, and then I’ll suggest to opposing counsel that we break for lunch. If counsel objects to an early lunch, I’ll tell him I have to drive my son to swim practice. Wow, that was a very plausible explanation about the cell phone records. I’m starting to think a jury would actually like this guy. I’m definitely questioning my own client’s veracity. It might be time for a come to Jesus meeting with my client. This deponent is no meth addict. To the contrary, he’s bright and articulate. He looks terrific in that suit. Oh no, the backs of my thighs are now officially stuck to the leather chair. If I move either leg too quickly, there’s no telling what sound it will make. I’ll just stay put until the others leave the conference room. Alright, it’s noon. Here we go. This should work out fine. Just fine.
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