Michael Promises Compassion

My friend Michael, the thinking man's collection lawyer, gives an account of his day:

Up betimes Monday and off to Stockton, two-hour drive for five-minute court appearance.

Court having been taken care of, I was walking back to the parking garage when I passed a nondescript building that I recognized as the PG&E offices. I was wearing my slightly worn but still presentable Brooks Brothers suit, and carrying my Italian leather briefcase.

Against the wall was leaning a young black man, not expensively dressed, not giving off any air of menace but simply holding up the wall, probably waiting for his significant other who was inside negotiating turning the lights back on. As I walked past him he said, without preliminaries, "Go easy on them."

I said I would.

Afterthought: Michael brings back fond memories of my own first court appearance. I flew from LA to San Francisco, from San Fran to Fresno. At the courthouse, I was the only lawyer present. The judge called my case and said "is there any objection to your motion?" --"None that I know of, your honor." --"Granted." Whereupon I reversed course and retraced my steps. Bookkeeping note, these days we do this sort of thing by phone.