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Dreams to Donuts: The Misadventures of Disco Fries, Of Counsel
| Mahchine'ing the $ecret truth of the univer$e | 09/24/24 |
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Date: September 24th, 2024 1:56 PM Author: Mahchine'ing the $ecret truth of the univer$e (You won’t refu$e my "baby" "Mahchine" forever.... ;)) The alarm shattered Disco Fries' dreams of grandeur, yanking him from the fantasy of summiting Teewinot Mountain into the cruel reality of his East Coast apartment. His body creaked and groaned in protest as he lumbered out of bed, each step a painful reminder that he was more likely to resemble Teewinot than climb it. His gut jiggled like a bowl full of jelly with every movement, as if mocking him with each step toward the bathroom mirror. "Maybe next year," he muttered, staring at his reflection, knowing full well the only peak he’d summit today was a mound of redlines from associates.
The subway was the first trial of the day, a true Dante-esque descent into misery. Packed shoulder-to-shoulder with other souls trapped in their corporate purgatory, Disco Fries clung to a pole, his arms jiggling with each turn, while he tried to make himself small—a laughable task for a man of his size. He envied the fresh-faced associates who somehow managed to still look human by the time they arrived at the firm.
When he finally arrived at the office, his windowless dungeon awaited him, the air thick with the stale scent of broken dreams. Being “Of Counsel” wasn’t the golden ticket he'd once imagined—it was more like the consolation prize they gave people too useful to fire but too unimpressive to promote. He settled into his chair, which groaned under his weight as much as his soul did under the never-ending cycle of contract revisions.
Then came the kicker: a freshly-minted equity partner—one of the very associates he had once mentored—strode into his office, firing off demands like some newly-hatched Napoleon. “Disco Fries, I need this done by COB today,” the partner said with the self-assuredness of someone who had never questioned his place in the hierarchy. “Oh, and it's non-billable, but it’s a great opportunity for client development,” he added with a smirk, knowing full well that Disco Fries would never benefit from the relationship. The client was tied to the partner; Disco Fries was simply the workhorse behind the scenes, not even a whisper in the client’s ear.
Lunch was a limp salad meant to signal his commitment to Teewinot, but it didn’t stand a chance. One donut became two. The donuts were the only things climbing higher today, as his carb intake reached new heights. A quick scroll through AutoAdmit gave him a fleeting escape, watching others tear apart the very people who had once made his life miserable. Schadenfreude was the only thing more satisfying than the donuts.
By 4:00 PM, Disco Fries was knee-deep in a merger agreement when he realized his younger colleagues had vanished to happy hour. Their laughter echoed down the halls, carefree and oblivious to the fact that their futures would one day look like his. “This is the circle of BigLaw life,” he thought bitterly. "Mentor them, watch them surpass you, then eat your feelings while they drink theirs." Another donut.
His phone buzzed with another urgent request—because of course it did. The partners were long gone, yet here he was, cranking out revisions with the enthusiasm of a man heading to the gallows. Teewinot? Ha. He’d be lucky to climb the stairs without needing a break at this point.
By 9:00 PM, he staggered out of the office, his feet throbbing from another 13-hour day of corporate drudgery. The subway ride home was more claustrophobic than the morning. By the time he reached his apartment, he could barely make it to the couch before collapsing into a pile of self-loathing, surrounded by takeout containers.
He stared blankly at the screensaver of Teewinot on his laptop. He hadn’t even opened the gym app in months. “Next year,” he lied to himself again. As sleep finally overtook him, his dreams of reaching the mountain were replaced by nightmares of equity partners and missed deadlines. Teewinot’s peak grew farther away with each passing day, a cruel mirage in a sea of billable hours.
Before drifting off, Disco Fries checked AutoAdmit one last time, only to be greeted by a poast from Boom: “frie$...yooo know teeweenot iz nevver happning rite...u outta breath walking from starbuck$...mountain laughing @u jus like ur life hahaHAH.” Disco Fries sighed and closed the app. He stared back at the screensaver one last time before sinking deeper into the couch, knowing full well tomorrow would be more of the same.
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