The Line Traversed
I called my office and left a message with my secretary that I was on a six-month leave of absence and that she should coordinate with Stefan to reassign my work. I went back to sleep and woke up at 11:00 a.m. the next morning. I turned my phone on. I had one message.
“Will,” I heard Lindquist’s voice say, “the good news first. This will be the last time I try to communicate with you in any manner without your consent. If I do not hear back from you, I will disappear from your radar, and there will be no repercussions. I have two other things I want to say.”
I heard the rustling of paper and found it poignant that this master of the universe had to type out a prepared voicemail message. “The two things consist of an apology and a proposal. The apology almost speaks for itself. I am sorry for my rudeness and peculiar behavior. I am desperate, and I would probably do the same thing over again. However, I have learned that I have one or two shreds of dignity left, because despite my circumstances, I would rather suffer my grim fate than to debase myself again. So if you so choose, you are free of me, and we are done.”
I paused the message. I watched flecks of dust float by, illuminated by streaks of light slipping through the window shades. The flecks had distinct shapes. “Part two of this message is the proposal. I wish to meet with you for a few . . . sessions. How long for each session? Let’s say thirty minutes. And for each thirty-minute session, I will pay you five thousand dollars. This amount is negotiable, but you will be compensated at some level, because I would be taking up your time and because it helps to convince me that I am taking a concrete step toward improvement. We can put this in writing, but you can be sure that even in the absence of a signed document, my word will hold. And let me make this final point, for it is surely the most important point of all.”
He was off script now, his voice more connected and less cadenced. “You would be under no obligation to produce results. There are no promises, no guarantees . . . how many ways can I say this? Imagine that this ‘no guarantee’ language is stated in the most ironclad way ever devised by the minds of attorneys. That would be the scope of this waiver. If I never hear from you again, I wish you well.”
At times, I comforted myself with the conviction that money was of secondary importance to me. In my more self-satisfied moments, I could view the city as a fine-tuned device that soullessly converted cranial gray matter into financial compensation. I had higher aspirations, I would tell myself, although if one’s schedule is one’s life, I would be hard-pressed to support this proposition.
Only a few seconds of introspection were necessary to puncture this pretense. I liked money a great deal, and I thought about money all of the time. I envied those who had it, and I fantasized about its accumulation. Over the years, the local news ran stories about taxi drivers who returned large amounts of cash or other valuable items left in the back seat of their vehicles. My prethought reaction was invariably, Why? They could have gotten away with it.
A certain rote morality would no doubt prevent me from pocketing found money under such circumstances, but I couldn’t deny that my fantasies with money typically involved the sudden undeserved discovery of cash. I suppose I could just as easily imagine that I accumulated wealth by being possessed of superior talent or intellect and harnessing these attributes to earning vast compensation. But that fantasy bored me. Plus, the fantasy had to be realistic. And it was not realistic for me to suppose that I harbored the intensity and ambition to earn vast sums of money.
Math crept in. Combine a paid leave of absence with a rate of $5,000 per thirty minutes, and soon, we were talking real money. Even just a few sessions would result in serious compensation. And this wouldn’t be fraud, right? After all, I had Lindquist’s voicemail expressly absolving me of any requirement to produce results. And he sought my help with his eyes wide open. I engaged in no solicitation and made no representations. This would be compensation without responsibility and—most thrilling of all—without the need to prepare.
And what if I found just a handful of similarly situated clients? Maybe Lindquist could help. I’d have to impose tight restraints, of course. Maybe a nondisclosure agreement. After all, I couldn’t be too open about this. I was still a licensed attorney, and public decorum still held importance. But if I handled this properly, I could earn a substantial income and avoid ridicule at the same time.
I sent a text. “Mr. Lindquist, I will call you tomorrow morning at 11:00 to further discuss.” I sat down at my desk, opened my computer, and began to type:
Retainer Agreement
I started a new paragraph.
Paragraph One: The following terms and conditions will constitute the agreement between Will Alexander (the “Practitioner”) and Mark Lindquist (the “Client”) with respect to the services to be provided.
I stared at the screen. I liked the structure so far.
Paragraph Two: Scope of Services. The Practitioner will endeavor to provide services to and on behalf of the Client in connection with addressing various issues of interest to the Client, including but not limited to matters affecting the well-being and overall contentment of the Client. The Practitioner shall institute whatever protocol and procedures that the Practitioner, in the Practitioner’s sole discretion, believes will most efficaciously accomplish the results sought hereunder.
A disclaimer was needed.
Paragraph Three: Disclaimer. The Practitioner makes no warranties or representations concerning the Practitioner’s ability or talent or skill to accomplish any of the goals set forth in paragraph 2 above. The Practitioner has no history, experience, identifiable skill, or training that would suggest in any manner that the Practitioner can bestow upon or provide any benefit to the Client.
Paragraph Four: Fees. The Client shall be responsible for paying to the Practitioner $5,000.00 for each session. It is anticipated that each session shall last approximately 30 minutes.
The agreement needed more work. For example, what about expenses? Penalties for nonpayment? Maybe an arbitration clause. I closed the computer, got dressed, and headed south toward Crosby Street in lower Manhattan.
It was time.