A partner walked in and delivered a right cross to what’s left of my ego:
I’m going to need a coffee, black, with sugar, in the conference room now.
Nevermind that his walk to me was twice as long as the walk to the coffee maker would have been, he chose me for this task. As such, I go to the coffee room, prepare the coffee as requested, debate about spitting in it and head towards the delivery point. Watching this walk of shame is a first year law student recently freed from the burden of finals. I walk up to her desk with the coffee in hand:
Just think that in three years, $200,000 dollars in tuition, untold levels of stress and physical abuse and one bar exam, you can deliver this very cup of coffee yourself. This is why I went to law school, how about you?
The look on the law clerk’s face was worth the humiliation of walking into a conference room loaded with lawyers.