Day 237, week 48: have a break

UpTights and OldSmoothie.  You’ve gotta love it.  They were at it again today.  You know it really wouldn’t surprise me if one day I came into chambers and discovered that they’d run off together.  Decided to settle their differences and go off into the sunset.  That love hate thing.  Well, maybe in a parallel universe perhaps but certainly not today.  Having myself heard UpTights question what the whole charade is about on more than one occasion, I guess it comes as no surprise to find that OldSmoothie was targeting that like a precision-guided missile today.

I was following UpTights to witness first hand a moderately-sized mediation.  She was with her insurer client and trying to minimise the claim brought against them by a disabled school-teacher knocked over by their insured.  Knowing that the mediator was another old duffer with an eye for the laydees, she’d dressed accordingly, the wisdom of which even on that level may well have been questioned.  Anyway, as usual, the other side had instructed OldSmoothie to go along and wind her up.  As they stepped aside from their respective clients to “discuss the case”, OldSmoothie opened with,

“You know UpTights, for every square inch of bared flesh which you offer up to our old friend over there, an equivalent bit of your soul is eaten away.”

She ignored him.

“And after all these years you’d think that you’d be a little more protective of what’s left.”

Again, she ignored him.  Maybe she was acquiring self-control.

“That is, of course, assuming that there was any soul to start with.”

Silence.  Then he moved in for the kill.

“But you know UpTights, the irony is that your problem is that you have too much soul.  All that tough talk just feeds that little self-hatred monster which gnaws away at your brain each day.  Explains a lot.”

He paused on saying that and gave her an appraising look.  She was clearly a little shaken and remained silent.

“We’ve known each other a long time UpTights.  Go on.  Just for one day.  Why not give yourself a break.”

There came no answer as she turned on her heels and strutted back to her client.  But the game was over before it had even begun.  Her usual fighting spirit had evaporated and for different reasons today, OldSmoothie and his disabled client won the day.

September 5, 2007 · Tim Kevan · 3 Comments
Posted in: Uncategorized

3 Responses

  1. Abigail - September 7, 2007

    Are you saying that there is no such thing as compensation neurosis, or malingering, or insurance claim inflation? Or are you saying that women should be sweet feminine Victorian maidens, and scrapping in court is a man’s game?

  2. Sarah - September 7, 2007

    Are you saying that they are going to run off into the sunset then? It is a when Harry met Sally thing?

  3. marcelproust - September 11, 2007

    Is it really credible that anyone would have such a gall in a professional context? (Honestly, I don’t know what standards prevail at the London bar.) It was just a mediation, for God’s sake. I sometimes wonder if the necessary soap elements aren’t weakening the material.