You can't handle the truth!

I had the opportunity to do my civic duty this week. Every two years I get the dreaded jury summons in the mail and every two years I report and until this time around I've always been excused for one reason or another. But this was not my year,  I was hand selected to hear a case. A very important case, I might add.

A feeble retail giant named Wal-Mart was relieved of, I'm sorry 'allegedly' relieved of a $90 hard drive and was using its might to prosecute to the full extent of the law. That meant that a Judge, a court reporter, a clerk, a District Attorney, a couple of bailiffs and 13 jurors had to spend 4 full days watching store security videos and listening to Wal-Mart Loss Prevention Associates regale us with the details of that fateful day.

The People V LeRoy (emphasis on Roy) Strickland

In the opening statements, the District Attorney likened the case to the Thomas Crowne Affair, meaning Mr Strickland didn't have to steal as he had almost $200 cash in his pocket on the day in question, but he did it for sport. Yes $90 hard drive similar to priceless works of art.

Then the Defense Attorney opened and by the way he referred to the retailer as "WalMarts" (hard ess at the end) I knew I was in the presence of the intellectual elite.

And so it went, 4 full days of  the attorneys battling it out like this was the trial of the century. Witnessing how silly our legal system is, with the real loser in this case being The People of California who were relieved (not allegedly, but actually) of tens of thousands of our tax payer dollars which could have been better spent doing almost anything including lighting it on fire and using it to keep the dudes that sleep in the park warm.

The silver lining you ask? Well all my Law & Order knowledge was put to full use.  I got to toss around words like "perp" and "vic" like they were going out of style and after overhearing the details of an unrelated case one day at lunch I suggested to an attorney that they "dump the phone and pull the LUDS" I honestly don't even know what that even means, but I sounded really smart when I said it...

"I ordered Markinson to have Santiago transferred off the base immediately. Why? I felt that his life might be in danger once word of the letter got out.
Grave danger? Is there another kind? I asked if Santiago was in Danger, I then asked if he was in Grave Danger and you said Is there another kind? I can have the court reporter read it back to you"

Walk Softly and Carry an Armored Tank Division I Always Say

 In 2009 I was the head of marketing for a small software publishing company and together with the heads of sales and business development we had been courting, cajoling and all out begging a leading tax preparation service to let us be their partner in the software aisle.  The target of our efforts was a woman, I’ll call her Jane, who was known in our industry as a real hard ass. After months of calls, emails, networking and more begging, we got a short note from her.

“You can take me and my associate to dinner one week from today at 7PM sharp and then you have 30 minutes to pitch us the next day. In the meantime stop calling me.”  All righty then, I guess we’re getting on a plane.

We huddled and planned our attack down to the last detail even convincing the CEO of our parent company to fly to Kansas City for dinner.  As we pre-gamed at the hotel our fearless leader gave us sage direction. “Keep your shit together and close this god damned deal!” …Why didn’t I think of that?

At 6:50 we arrive at the restaurant of Jane's choosing.  It was a dark, dank, rickety joint that smelled of cigarette smoke, urine and glue. Certainly not how a midwest steakhouse should smell, but I thought maybe this is just one of those under-the-radar, crusty local joints that can get away with such things. When our targets arrive we head into the dingy, foul smelling dining room and the conversation, as my dad would put it is "flatter than a fart". 

My counterparts and I are enthusiastically volleying the conversational hot potato, acting like costumed animals in a 3 ring circus and Jane answers all our questions with pointed one word responses. Things were going nowhere fast.

With standard business protocol proving ineffective we employ our only remaining tactic, booze. We order bottle after bottle of the best wine on the limited menu and finally dragon lady starts to get loose.  In a matter of minutes she travels from barely speaking and sending looks that kill, to moderately enjoying herself, to falling off the proverbial cliff. She was pickled.  And not the let’s-have-fun-and-we’ll-laugh-about-it-tomorrow-pickled.  Nope, the Courtney Love kind of pickled.

After our meals were cleared away and after-dinner drinks are being finished I notice Jane has steak juice all down the front of her white sweater, which is certainly unfortunate, but that kind of thing happens, then much to my horror she starts dipping her napkin into her wine glass and blotting out the steak juice with her red wine.

I’m not familiar with this method of stain removal.

Her co-worker leans over and whispers something and off Jane goes in the direction of the ladies room, hopefully she’ll clean herself up, dust herself off and be blissfully unaware that we were any the wiser.  After a few minutes the check arrives and we settle up.  Then we wait, and wait some more. No one wanting to say out loud what we were each thinking. “Where the hell is the train wreck?” Tick tock, tick tock and after about 30 painful minutes, my CEO leans over and quietly says, “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to go in after her.”

Naturally.

I timidly enter the ladies room really not sure what I’ll find and that’s when I hear it, a noise behind one of the closed stall doors, it sounds like she’s on the ground rolling around in a pile of wadded up toilet seat covers.

Terrific.

I start making some noise over by the sinks hoping she’ll hear me and pull it together. No dice. Finally I say “Jane, we’re getting ready to go, shall we wait for you in the bar?” Rustle, rustle, rustle and then she emerges wild eyed and wobbly with wine, steak juice and god knows what else all over her lovely white sweater looking more like a cornered perp from the show COPS then a respected sales executive. She took one look at me and without a word or a visit to the sink hauled ass out of the restroom.

Classy.

Needless to say we never got the deal we went there to close, but in the end it didn’t matter. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I say it’s served best in a filthy heap on the ladies room floor.