My face flushes red, embarrassment practically seeping out of my pores. I am a perfectionist and to be told my work is bad tears me up inside. I don’t understand it because I had done meticulous research and studied several examples of other Interrogatory answers to use as a go-by. When I handed it in to Matt, I thought I’d get it back with an A+++ and a smiley face… maybe a gold star glued to the front.
Flipping through the pages, I focus on his mark-ups to see exactly where I failed. As my eyes move from red mark to red mark, my face goes crimson again, but this time, it’s heating up with fury. Matt’s corrections have nothing to do with the quality of my legal work. They’re all picky issues over the semantics on how to word something. For example, he crossed out the word “instantaneously” and wrote above it “instantly”. And that was just one example. Page after page I flip through, and I only spot one area where he has a legitimate gripe… where I placed an objection improperly.
When I glance back up at him, he’s watching me with interest, his eyebrows raised slightly to see what my reaction will be. He’s ready for me to erupt, and I think he’ll be disappointed if I don’t. He’s expecting a fight, and he wants to uncork the tempest that must be brewing inside of him.
He’s a fifteen, I remind myself. So I say with measured calm, “Matt… some of these corrections are just semantics. I think it’s a little unfair to call my work sub-standard when you are basically disagreeing with word choices.”
His voice is sharp and laced with disdain when he says, “Word choices in a legal document can make or break a case. You could sink an entire claim with just one poorly chosen word. It’s a lesson you desperately need, and I’m going to make sure you learn it. Furthermore, you are not to ever question my opinions on your work again.”
Okay, that does it… Fifteen or not, I’m not going to let him walk all over me. Matt Fucking Connover is going to get a piece of my mind.
Standing up from my chair, I put my palms on his desk and lean in. “You are being completely unfair. You’re taking your anger out on me when it’s not deserved.”
Matt stands up, placing his palms opposite mine, and leans in as well. His voice is controlled, but laced with menace. “I’m not taking my anger out on you. I’m telling you that your work product is poor. Learn the difference.”
My control sort of snaps at this point, and I shove the bloodied document under his nose. My voice raises an octave. “This is not poor work product. This is you desperately trying to find some fault with my work so you can punish me.”
“Punish you?” he sneers as he grabs the document out of my hand. “Why would I possibly do that?”
“Because I cut you off, and you can’t handle the rejection,” I snarl.
Matt laughs at me… a full-blown, mocking laugh. His eyes glint with danger. “Get over yourself, Mac. You were replaced and forgotten just like that.” He snaps his fingers to punctuate the point.
Pain lances at my heart and fury courses through me such as I have never felt before. I have to dig my nails into the palms of my hands to stop from smacking his face.
My voice is venomous, and I’m just one decibel short of an all-out yell. “I can’t take this shit anymore. I did nothing to deserve this.”
I grab the document out of his hand, hoping I leave him with a paper cut or two, push off from his desk, and spin toward the door, intent on leaving. But Matt is quick. I have no clue if he vaulted his desk or ran around it, but within a nanosecond, he has my elbow clutched and he spins me around.
If I thought Matt was angry before, I didn’t know what true anger was. His face is practically contorted in rage when he roars, “You did nothing to deserve this? You fucking denied me.”
You would think that this would be a somewhat selfish and bratty statement on his part. But the anguish with which he says those words cuts me deep. He’s hurt. Truly, deeply hurt, and a pang of sympathy goes through me.
However, I hold my ground but soften my voice. “I denied you nothing, Matt. I simply asked for more.”