Now I’m a pretty easy
going guy, but there’s one thing that really gets under my skin. That thing is when people don’t respect my
time. It really pisses me off. I guess it goes back to being a lawyer. We get paid for our time and when people
don’t respect it, it feels like I’m rolling down the highway tossing cash out
of the window. In this case the feeling
is elevated because I’m extremely anxious, and because I don’t have my phone,
which means I can’t text, surf the web or check my email. In other words, I’m going nuts sitting here
waiting. But I know that I need to
swallow that attitude and start off on the right foot. After about ten minutes, and two visits from
an overly-helpful waiter, the door slid open.
It was Vanessa Boudreaux-finally.
Everything about the woman was well put together; the hair, the jewelry,
the clothing, the shoes, the walk-everything.
This was a woman at the top of her game, and I was completely
intrigued. I couldn’t help but wonder what
it would be like to have someone like her in my life on a daily basis.
As she glided into the
room, I stood and moved toward the door to greet her. My excitement was immediately dampened,
however, when she extended her hand and gave me the universal symbol for “wait
a minute.” The message was clear, so I
sat again to wait for her to wrap up her call on the Bluetooth device attached
to her ear. As I sat there, I couldn’t
help but feel put off. I probably had no
right to feel that way, but I would never have done that to her. Between the waiting and the phone call, I
just had the feeling that this meeting wasn’t as important to her as it was to
me. My thoughts were interrupted when she
finished the call and gestured for me to stand to greet her. I extended my hand to shake hers, but she
grabbed me and pulled me toward her for a warm hug. Then she apologized for being late and for
the phone call, and all of the negativity I had felt moments earlier evaporated
into thin air. In order to avoid another
interruption, however, I told her that I wouldn’t take any calls during lunch
if she wouldn’t. She winked and said
she’d try. Of course, I really didn’t
have to worry about it since my phone was probably lying in pieces on some busy
Atlanta street, or, even worse, being offered for sale on Peachtree Street by
some enterprising citizen.
As our conversation
began, I realized that I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. Where was she from? What did she do for a living? Where’d she go to college? Does she like sports? Is she a good dancer? What is her favorite food? What does she do for fun? Oh, and who was
that guy she was with the night I first saw her? I didn’t want the conversation to seem like
an interview, but I hoped to have the answers to some of my questions by the
end of our lunch. And what a lunch it
was! We ate and talked and teased and
talked some more. It was one of those
conversations where everything she said prompted another round of conversation.
Vanessa was certainly a “no-list” girl. A “no-list” girl is one who is really easy to
talk to. The term goes back to when I
was in high school. I used to make a
list of topics for our conversation before I would call. Sometimes I’d call someone and run through my
list in five minutes. With nothing left
to talk about, I’d awkwardly rush off the phone. On the other hand, sometimes I would call a
girl and I could stay on the phone forever without looking at the list a single
time. Needless to say, I did not make,
or need, a list with Ms. Boudreaux.
I learned so much about
her during our lengthy conversation. The
37-year-old daughter of two prominent physicians was born with the proverbial
silver spoon in her mouth. She’s never
stepped foot in a public school, and had her choice of cars on the day she
turned 16. She graduated from Spelman
College, and received an MBA from Wharton.
After Wharton she joined a prominent Wall Street investment banking
firm, before moving back to Atlanta to start her own. She’s traveled extensively, and lived abroad
for extended periods. Vanessa was also
kind and compassionate. She volunteers
for several children’s organizations.
Physically, she appeared to be about 5’9” or 5’10”, and was blessed with
a natural beauty that made men of all ages do a double take. Yet, she was extremely humble. And the icing on the cake is that she’s a
huge sports fan, and has season tickets to the Hawks, Falcons and Braves.
Although the
conversation was still flowing freely, both of us knew we had to get back to
work. We’d settled our check long ago,
but just couldn’t leave. As we attempted
to wrap up the conversation for the fourth time, she took a deep breath and
nervously asked to change the subject. “So, Jeffrey, let me tell you why I
really invited you here. I’ve got a
proposition for you, and, frankly, I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about
it.” She sat up straight in her chair,
and prepared to lay out her proposition.
“See, I’ve been . . .” She stopped in mid-sentence as the door suddenly
slid open. It was the maître d followed closely
by Anita, who appeared to be very agitated.
Anita screamed at me, “Mr. Law, why haven’t you been answering your
phone? Judge Thompson’s office has been
calling all afternoon. There’s an
emergency hearing set to take place in 30 minutes in the Walton case. I’ve got the file, let’s go.” I dashed over
to Vanessa and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hold that thought,” I whispered before
dashing off with Anita.
I can’t think of a more
terribly abrupt way for our lunch to have ended. And the one time that I didn’t have my phone,
there would have to be an emergency. As
much as my mind should have been on the upcoming court hearing, I kept thinking
about the lunch with Vanessa. It was
going to drive me absolutely crazy wondering what her proposition was all
about. But there was no time to worry
about that. I had a judge to face, a client
to take care of, and an angry assistant to deal with.
.jpg)
