For A in Cambodia

"Na-iiyak ka na ba?"

Were the first words ever spoken to me by a woman who at that time (7 and half years ago) was one of The Perm's most popular Senior Associates. It was another late night at The Perm and I was hanging out with a fellow Legal Assistant at the Snake Pit (a cluster of dark rooms in The Perm's third floor).

As she saw us: two bright eyed, very young and innocent kids who happened to find themselves in a gigantic law firm, she asked us that question. I had no idea what she meant.

She smiled (a sarcastic smile that had no relation to happiness) and walked away.

It took me almost two years to understand exactly what she meant.

She was referring to the sheer volume of work that comes at you at The Perm. The impossible deadlines, the unreasonable partners, the demanding clients. Each one of these forces coming at you simultaneously -- like a gigantic wave that will carry you up and wash you away.

You come to work with a feeling of dread for what's ahead; with a tight chest and a headache. You plow through documents but it is as if nothing is accomplished. It's like digging a hole in the sand. The phone never stops ringing. It's like a bad dream: you've picked up the phone but it keeps on ringing. The f*ing incessant ringing. Knocks on your door are constant, so is the stream of documents in your inbox.

And so you cry. Because there is really nothing else you can do.

I never did though. I was about THIS CLOSE to it a few times, but I never did. When I'd get depressed, I'd think about that late night shortly after I joined the firm. Think about the Senior Associate and her sarcastic smile. Think that she was now in London working for a big foreign law firm. Think that the wave would end and the tightness in my chest and stomach would ease.

And it did. The wave always passed. The tightness loosened.

And now well, you know how things turned out.