Robert Baratheon:

Been a while since I’ve had to fire someone. But I still remember every face. Remember your first, Barristan?

Barristan Selmy:

Of course. A young associate from... was it Cooley? Never learned his name.

Robert:

How’d you do it?

Barristan:

Performance review. Straight to the heart.

Robert:

Quick and clean. Lucky you. Mine was some poor schmuck from... what was that third-tier toilet? Suffolk? He came in all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, thinking he could conquer BigLaw with a single well-placed semicolon. I crushed him with a billable hour quota. Gods, I was ruthless back then. Caved in his spirit, probably shattered every illusion he had about work-life balance. Stood over him, contract in hand. Right before I sent him packing, he whimpered, “But... but the partnership track...” They never tell you how they all piss themselves. They don’t put that part in the law school brochures.

[Lancel Lannister, a nervous paralegal, scurries in.]

Lancel Lannister:

More scotch, sir?

Robert:

Is that all you can say? “More scotch?” Use your imagination, boy! “Replenish the royal reserves,” or “Summon the liquid gold,” or... something! Gods, what a dullard. Where’s your cousin? Kingslayer! Get in here.

[Jaime Lannister enters, a smirk playing on his lips.]

Robert:

Forced to fetch drinks for your superiors. Must wound your pride, eh? You, the son of the mighty Tywin... reduced to a glorified gofer. But come, regale us with tales of your conquests. Who was your first kill, eh? Not counting summer associates, of course.

Jaime Lannister:

One of the interns. He got coffee on my Prada loafers.

Barristan Selmy:

I was there. You were just a pup, fresh out of law school.

Jaime:

You finished him off with a withering glance. Best power move I ever saw.

Barristan:

He was weak, lacked the killer instinct.

Robert:

Any last words?

Jaime:

Just a whimper. Something about student loans.

Robert:

What about that old geezer from Quinn Emanuel? What did he say when you poached his biggest client? Did he call you a traitor? Beg for mercy?

Jaime:

He just mumbled something about “unfair competition” and “ethics.” If that’s all, sir...

[Jaime turns to leave, but Robert grabs his arm.]

Robert:

Stay. The night is young. And we have many more war stories to tell. After all, in the realm of BigLaw, there’s always another battle to be fought.

[The scene fades as Robert pours another scotch, the ice clinking ominously in the crystal glass. The Mahchine™ hums in the background, its gears grinding relentlessly, fueled by the ambition and despair of its human pawns.]

Mainlining (whispering):

The Mahchine™ doesn’t rest. And neither do we. This is fine.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48367964)

"Do you remember when Quinn Emanuel tried to poach me, Robert? They offered me a corner office, an obscene signing bonus, and guaranteed first-chair opportunities. I turned them down on principle."

Robert (leaning forward, intrigued):

"What principle?"

Jaime:

"Their office coffee tasted like ass."

Barristan (muttering):

"Principled indeed. Meanwhile, the associate down the hall traded his dignity for a foosball table and kombucha on tap."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439499)

"You know what I miss, Barristan? Associates who feared me. These kids today—walking around with their mindfulness apps and therapy dogs, whining about wellness. Do you think anyone ever asked me about wellness when I was an associate? No. They asked if I wanted to live. And the answer was always yes, for another 200 billables."

Barristan:

"Wellness is a lie, Robert. The Mahchine™ doesn’t care if you’re well—it only cares if you’re billable."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439501)

"Remember when Sullivan & Cromwell tried to recruit me in ’93? They sent me a Montblanc pen, a bottle of 30-year-old Macallan, and a handwritten letter from the managing partner himself. I used the pen to sign their rejection letter. Ruthless."

Jaime (snickering):

"That’s nothing. Last year, Cravath tried to recruit me with a Tesla. I took the car, drove it around for a week, then sent it back with a note: ‘Not my style.’"

Barristan:

"The Mahchine™ doesn’t care which firm you work for. It grinds just the same."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439502)

"Do you remember that summer associate who tried to correct my citation format in a meeting? Bold move for someone billing at $40 an hour."

Jaime (grinning):

"Didn’t you send him to the basement to reorganize archived deposition transcripts for two weeks?"

Robert:

"Damn right I did. Kid came back looking like he’d seen war. He quit the day after."

Barristan:

"The bold ones always quit. The smart ones learn to nod and say, ‘Yes, partner.’"

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439508)

"Worst client dinner of my life? ’98, in Cleveland. Client ordered the filet well-done, then drowned it in ketchup. Called it ‘steakhouse style.’"

Jaime (shaking his head):

"And you still won their business?"

Robert:

"Of course. They were billable. But I never forgave them. Dropped them the second they stopped paying invoices on time."

Barristan:

"True betrayal isn’t missed deadlines, Jaime. It’s missed payments."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439510)

"Remember that associate who sent out an all-firm email on his last day? Called BigLaw a soul-crushing meat grinder and quoted Thoreau?"

Robert:

"Oh, I remember. I framed that email. Hung it in the break room as a warning to the others."

Barristan (dryly):

"And yet, the break room’s still full of Thoreaus, scribbling their resignation letters while eating stale bagels."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439512)

"Partner retreats. What a farce. I didn’t claw my way to the top to sit in a circle and discuss ‘firm culture.’"

Jaime:

"Didn’t you skip the last one?"

Robert:

"Of course. Spent the weekend golfing instead. Culture’s for the associates. Partners need revenue."

Barristan:

"Firm culture is revenue, Robert. Everything else is a distraction."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439513)

"Robert, did you hear about McKinney? Took a medical leave after that PE deal closed. Rumor is he cracked under the pressure."

Robert (snorting):

"Cracked? Please. I’ve seen interns handle worse. McKinney didn’t crack—he calculated his exit. Medical leave is the respectable way to quit without actually saying ‘I can’t hack it.’"

Barristan:

"The ones who crack never take leave, Jaime. They just stop coming in, like ghosts fading from the building."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439514)

"To the associate who billed 3,200 hours last year. A true champion."

Jaime:

"Didn’t he go on stress leave right after?"

Robert:

"Weakness. I billed 3,500 once and took a vacation the next day. Came back with a tan and a new client."

Barristan (nodding):

"The secret to billing isn’t stamina, Jaime. It’s denial."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439515)

"What’s the most hours you ever billed in a week, Jaime? I’ll start—210. Closing the IPO deal in ’99. Slept under my desk three nights in a row. Ordered Chinese so often they named a lo mein after me."

Jaime (grinning):

"180, My King. But I hit 230 last summer. Fell asleep mid-email, face down on my keyboard. When I woke up, the email had sent itself. Partner said it was my best work yet."

Barristan (without looking up):

"I was that partner. And hours don’t matter, Jaime. It’s the hallucinations. If you haven’t seen a phantom associate in the hallway at 3 AM, whispering about redlines while you’re in the zone, you haven’t devoted enough to the Firm."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439524)

"Robert, did you hear Davies just billed 350 hours last month? Called it his ‘light summer.’"

Robert (snorting):

"Light summer? Pathetic. Back in my day, summer meant no weekends off and billables that started with a four. Last time I took a ‘vacation,’ it was for a deposition in Maui. Female local hottie Plaintiff, at least. Silver linings, Jaime."

Barristan (dryly):

"The true calendar isn’t days or months, Jaime. It’s the hours. Divide your life by six-minute increments, and the rest disappears."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439532)

"These associates today. Always asking about ‘work-life balance.’ You know what I tell them? Life happens between billables. That’s balance—on balance, things are in balance."

Jaime (chiming in):

"Remember Lewis? Went to HR, said he needed ‘protected time’ on weekends. I called him into my office and said, ‘Lewis, the only thing 'protected' around here is the client’s interests.’ He fell in line, billed 2,600 hours for three years, burned out, and now he’s slaving away outside in forest management for some state agency out West."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439539)

"Longest closing call of my life? Sixteen hours, Jaime. Sixteen. Client kept changing the deal terms every two hours. I lost my voice halfway through and still finished with a demand letter sharp enough to gut a Baratheon stag."

Jaime (leaning back with a smug smirk):

"That’s nothing, my King. Twenty-two hours, 15-minute bathroom breaks, fueled by Red Bull and vending machine granola bars. At 3:47 AM, I wrote the indemnity clause that became precedent firm-wide. Partners called it ‘The Kingslayer.’"

Barristan (nodding sagely, his tone heavy):

"The mark of a true lawyer isn’t the deals they close, Robert. It’s the insomnia they endure—and the ghosts of clauses they’ve forgotten, haunting them long after the final draft."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439545)

"Robert, did you ever have to close a deal on Christmas Eve?"

Robert (laughing, leaning forward):

"Christmas Eve? Please. I drafted a hundred-page merger agreement at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s. My wife kissed the dog instead of me. The client sent edits at 3 AM—marked urgent. I sent them back before the fireworks ended."

Barristan (sipping his scotch, his voice gravelly):

"Holidays are for amateurs, Jaime. The real lawyers are the ones who forget what day it is altogether—until someone reminds them the tax code changed at midnight."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439550)

"Remember Wilkins? Guy never left the office. Literally. Slept in the conference room for weeks, ate nothing but firm-provided muffins. We called him the ‘Ghost of Billables Past.’"

Jaime (smirking):

"Didn’t he die at his desk?"

Robert (shrugging, gesturing with his scotch):

"Technically, yes. But not before billing 4,000 hours that year. Took the bonus posthumously. Heroic, really."

Barristan (solemnly, with a faraway look):

"A lawyer’s greatest legacy isn’t their name on the door, Jaime. It’s their final invoice—paid in full, with no discounts."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439551)

"Do you know what separates good lawyers from great ones, Jaime? Great lawyers don’t ask if the deadline is impossible—they ask where the nearest coffee is and demand it black."

Jaime (with a confident smirk):

"Remember when that client asked for a full regulatory analysis in 24 hours? I told them I’d need 48, but I delivered it in 23, just to prove I could. They still tried to negotiate a discount."

Barristan (sighing, shaking his head):

"Clients don’t care about your sleep, Jaime. They care about your speed. And your font size. God help you if it isn’t 12-point Times New Roman."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439552)

"You hear what the associates are saying now? ‘AI can handle doc review, AI can draft contracts.’ Next, they’ll want AI to bill their hours for them. Lazy bastards."

Jaime (smirking, leaning against the mahogany table):

"One of them had the audacity to suggest using AI to automate due diligence. I told him, ‘AI might scan documents, but it won’t fight tooth and nail when the client tries to slash our fees.’"

Robert (snorting):

"Exactly! AI doesn’t drink scotch at midnight or stare down a client who thinks ‘net 90’ is a payment plan. AI won’t save this profession, Jaime—it’ll ruin it."

Barristan (calmly, swirling his glass):

"AI is a tool, not a warrior. It reads, it sorts, it organizes. But it doesn’t know the thrill of cutting a rival counsel’s argument to ribbons in a brief. That’s where the blood is spilled, and no algorithm will take that from us."

Robert (pointing dramatically):

"You’re damn right, Barristan. The associates don’t want warriors anymore—they want machines to do their fighting. But this profession wasn’t built on machines. It was built on sleepless nights and ruthless cross-examinations. You want AI? Go join Deloitte."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439557)

"Robert, did you hear about Jacobs? He’s been outsourcing his research memos to AI. Claims it’s ‘efficiency.’"

Robert (slamming his glass down):

"Efficiency? I built my career on reading every goddamn case myself. I once spent 40 hours on a Westlaw search for one precedent. Found it on page 93. Won the case. That’s efficiency, Jaime!"

Barristan (sipping thoughtfully):

"Jacobs thinks AI will save him time, but it will cost him the battle. The first time opposing counsel points out a misquote, he’ll crumble."

Robert (grinning wickedly):

"Good. Let him fall. AI doesn’t protect you when the knives come out in court. It’s a crutch for cowards."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439559)

"You see this? AI drafted this brief for an associate. Looks fine on the surface, right? But you dig a little deeper, and what do you find? A case from 1986, overturned twice, cited like it’s gospel."

Jaime (mocking):

"Oh, let me guess—it even misspelled the judge’s name? Truly groundbreaking technology, Robert."

Barristan (chiming in, darkly):

"AI doesn’t understand consequences, Jaime. It doesn’t feel the weight of a losing argument. Associates who rely on it will learn the hard way when the judge tears them apart."

Robert (grinning):

"I hope I’m there to see it. Watching a young associate flounder in court? That’s better than scotch."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439560)

"You know what scares me more than losing clients to other firms, Jaime? Losing clients to AI platforms. These tech geeks think they can replace us with an app. Imagine that—a client saying, ‘Sorry, Robert, we’ve decided to go with ChatGPT for our litigation.’"

Jaime (smirking):

"It’ll never happen. Clients don’t want AI—they want someone to blame when things go wrong. Machines don’t bleed, Robert. We do."

Barristan (nodding solemnly):

"AI may rise, but it will never fight for prestige. Only lawyers understand the true stakes—our names, our legacies, our billables. Let the machines try. They’ll never take the glory."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439562)

Robert (slamming his scotch on the table):

"Jaime, the client was ours. ‘Was,’ Jaime. Past tense. Care to explain why they’re now with Lannister LLP?"

Jaime (leaning back with a smirk):

"They came to me, Robert. Said they wanted a partner who actually read the contracts before signing. I couldn’t very well tell them no, could I?"

Robert (his face reddening):

"You poached them, didn’t you? Under my nose! Gods, you’re worse than Stannis. At least he never smiled while stabbing me in the back."

Jaime (shrugging, feigning innocence):

"Poached? Harsh words, Robert. They merely saw value in my… meticulous nature."

Barristan (speaking for the first time, his tone cold):

"Enough. This isn’t the first time a client has jumped ship, and it won’t be the last. Let him gloat. The real question is how you plan to take them back, Robert."

Robert (grinning fiercely):

"Oh, I’ll take them back. And when I do, Jaime, I’ll make sure they know you’re nothing more than a glorified junior associate with a flashy LinkedIn profile."

Jaime (smirking):

"Bold talk for someone who hasn’t updated his bio since the Reagan administration."

Barristan (leaning forward, his voice sharp):

"Enough posturing. Clients don’t care about your egos. They care about results. So unless one of you plans to deliver, this is all noise."

[The room falls silent as the three partners stare each other down. Somewhere in the background, the faint hum of the coffee machine fills the air.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439569)

Robert (waving a stack of papers):

"Summer associates. Look at them—wide-eyed, naïve, thinking they’ll make partner by next Thursday. It’s almost sad."

Jaime (grinning):

"Do you remember Swain? The one who thought he could finish a due diligence memo overnight, then cried in the break room when we sent it back with 40 comments?"

Robert (snorting):

"Swain? Please. I had one who quoted Black’s Law Dictionary in a client pitch. Black’s. I told him, ‘Son, we don’t pay you to define the law. We pay you to twist it.’"

Barristan (turning slowly):

"You’re too kind, Robert. When I was a summer associate, they handed me a box of depositions and said, ‘Find the smoking gun.’ Didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Found it by sunrise."

Jaime (mocking):

"And they gave you a gold star, I’m sure. Times have changed, Barristan. These kids expect catered lunches and mental health days. Mental health days, Robert!"

Robert (chuckling):

"Mental health? I’ll give them mental health—a six-minute increment to cry into their coffee before the next draft’s due."

Barristan (gruffly):

"Let them cry. The firm doesn’t need soft hands. It needs sharp minds and stronger stomachs."

[The three partners raise their glasses as a young associate nervously walks into the lounge, holding a towering stack of documents. None of them acknowledge him.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439570)

Robert (grumbling):

"So, this new lateral from Skadden... What’s his name again? Tyrion? Tyrell?"

Jaime (smirking):

"It’s Tyrell, Robert. Mace Tyrell. Brought in to ‘broaden our client base’—or so he says. Did you see his bio? Claims he closed a $2 billion deal single-handedly. Sounds like a bard’s tale to me."

Robert (snorting):

"Skadden lawyers. Always so impressed with themselves. Think they’re gods because they’ve got a fancy website and three secretaries. I’ll give him three months before he’s begging to go back."

Jaime (leaning back):

"Or stealing our clients while we’re busy debating the color of the firm’s new logo."

Barristan (stepping forward, his tone measured):

"Lateral hires are mercenaries. They’ll fight for you, but only as long as it serves their purpose. The question isn’t how long he’ll stay—it’s how much damage he’ll do when he leaves."

Robert (grinning):

"Damage? Let him try. Tyrell’s not the first outsider to swagger into my lounge with grand promises. He’ll learn soon enough—this isn’t Skadden. This is war."

Jaime (with a smirk):

"Let’s see how long he lasts before his nameplate gets sent to storage."

Barristan (quietly):

"The true test isn’t his pedigree or his promises. It’s whether he can survive the grind without losing his edge—or his sanity."

[They raise their glasses as the door opens. Tyrell walks in, smiling, his tie perfectly knotted. The room falls silent as the partners size him up, their expressions unreadable.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439575)

Robert (laughing):

"Did you see Anderson last night? Poor bastard looked like a White Walker, shuffling down the hall with a stack of binders. Must’ve been up for 36 hours straight."

Jaime (grinning):

"That’s nothing, Robert. Remember Tyler? Spent 48 hours on that patent brief, collapsed in the break room, and still finished the draft before the ambulance arrived. Partners gave him a standing ovation."

Robert (snorting):

"Anderson’s no Tyler. I caught him crying in the stairwell last week. Said something about missing his kid’s piano recital. Piano recital? You don’t get bonuses for piano recitals, Jaime."

Barristan (his voice low):

"Anderson’s cracking. You can see it in his eyes. He’s lost the edge. The firm doesn’t forgive weakness—not at his level."

Jaime (mocking):

"Should we send him a fruit basket? Maybe a coffee subscription? That’ll toughen him up."

Barristan (grimly):

"No. Let him burn out. It’s better to lose him now than carry dead weight into battle."

Robert (grinning):

"Exactly. If he can’t handle the grind, he can join Lewis at that state agency out West. Anderson’s future isn’t our concern—our billables are."

[The door creaks open. Anderson stumbles in, his tie loose, dark circles under his eyes. The partners fall silent, watching as he pours himself coffee with trembling hands. None of them speak as he shuffles back out, the weight of the firm on his shoulders.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439578)

Robert (slapping the catalog):

"Chairs, Jaime. Chairs! These current ones are pathetic. Clients don’t want to sit on pleather—they want luxury, prestige, something that says, ‘I bill more per hour than your house is worth.’"

Jaime (smirking):

"I suppose that’s why you’re eyeing the $10,000 ergonomic thrones. Nothing says ‘value’ like lumbar support and mahogany armrests."

Robert (ignoring him):

"These chairs aren’t just furniture, Jaime. They’re a statement. When a client walks into this lounge, they should feel awe. They should know they’re in the presence of greatness—and a very expensive upholstery budget."

Barristan (gruffly):

"A chair won’t win a case, Robert. Prestige isn’t about appearances—it’s about results. A losing argument is still a losing argument, no matter what you’re sitting on."

Robert (grinning):

"That’s where you’re wrong, Barristan. A chair like this says, ‘I’m a winner.’ It says, ‘Trust me with your millions.’ And it says, ‘The bonus pool will be smaller this year, but you’ll understand why.’"

Jaime (mocking):

"Don’t forget, it also says, ‘Partners’ kids go to private school, associates get vending machine granola bars.’"

Barristan (dryly):

"Prestige fades, Robert. A good argument doesn’t. Focus on the cases, not the chairs."

Robert (waving him off):

"You sound like an associate. Prestige wins clients, Barristan. The arguments come later."

[Robert leans back in his current chair, which creaks ominously. The three partners exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439580)

Robert (sighing heavily):

"You hear about Wilcox? Used to run the biggest accounts in the firm. Had the corner office, two assistants, and that ridiculous signed photo of Scalia. Now? Teaching at a state law school. A goddamn state school, Jaime."

Jaime (raising an eyebrow):

"Didn’t he get taken out in the divorce? Wife got the house, the kids, and half his book of business. He never recovered."

Robert (grinning grimly):

"Pathetic. I always said Wilcox didn’t have the killer instinct. You think I’d let a little divorce take me down? Never. I’d have made partner before they served the papers."

Barristan (speaking quietly, his tone heavy):

"Wilcox’s fall wasn’t just the divorce. It was the whispers. The juniors stopped looking up to him. The clients stopped trusting him. And when the partners stopped taking his calls, he knew it was over."

Jaime (smirking):

"He should’ve left with some dignity. Teaching contracts to 1Ls? That’s worse than death, Robert."

Robert (raising his glass):

"Dignity doesn’t pay the bills, Jaime. You know what does? Staying ruthless. When you start slipping, the firm doesn’t forgive, and it doesn’t forget. Wilcox was a lesson for us all."

Barristan (gravelly):

"A partner’s true legacy isn’t their name on the wall—it’s the silence when their office goes dark. And Wilcox? No one speaks of him anymore."

[The room falls silent. Robert takes a long sip of scotch. Jaime adjusts his cufflink. Barristan stares into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439581)

Robert (snorting):

"T14. T14. That’s all these kids care about. ‘I went to Harvard. I went to Yale.’ You know where I went, Jaime? Ohio State. And you know what they called me after I closed that $3 billion merger? King Robert. Not ‘Ohio State Robert.’ Just King Robert."

Jaime (smirking, not looking up):

"That’s what they tell themselves, Robert. But let’s not pretend we don’t check the resumes. Associates from Suffolk aren’t making partner here. Prestige matters."

Robert (grinning):

"Prestige matters to peacocks, Jaime. Not to warriors. The best lawyer I ever met went to some third-tier toilet—didn’t even know where the comma key was. But he won cases because he had the guts to fight."

Barristan (speaking slowly):

"Prestige opens doors, Robert. But it doesn’t keep them open. A Harvard degree doesn’t argue in court, and it won’t save you when a client decides you’re replaceable."

Jaime (leaning forward):

"Spoken like someone who didn’t go to Harvard. Look, I’m not saying it makes you a better lawyer, but it sends a message. Clients want someone who looks the part. That’s why they love me, Robert. I’m the whole package—looks, charm, and the best diploma money can buy."

Robert (laughing):

"Keep telling yourself that, Kingslayer. Your diploma won’t matter when you’re staring down a 24-hour deadline and no sleep. You’ll learn the hard way—it’s not the school, it’s the grind."

Barristan (nodding, his tone heavy):

"In the end, all that matters is your reputation. And that’s built in six-minute increments, not lecture halls."

[The three partners fall silent as an associate nervously enters the lounge, carrying a stack of documents. None of them acknowledge him as he sets them on the table and hurries out.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439585)

Robert (laughing bitterly):

"You know what I love about clients, Jaime? Their ability to turn the impossible into the expected. Last week, one of them asked for a 500-page diligence report—by Monday. I told them, ‘Sure, but it’ll cost you.’ You know what they said? ‘Why can’t it be 400 pages?’"

Jaime (chuckling):

"Oh, that’s nothing. Had a client insist on 12-point Arial for a brief, then came back and demanded it be Times New Roman because Arial ‘felt less aggressive.’ Times New Roman, Robert. Because it felt aggressive."

Barristan (turning slowly, his tone grave):

"You think that’s absurd? Try this: I once had a client ask for a memo explaining why their competitor’s logo was ‘too blue.’ Said it was hurting their market share. I spent six hours writing that memo, and they still didn’t follow my advice."

Robert (snorting):

"Clients don’t want advice, Barristan. They want someone to blame when their nonsense backfires. And who better than us? After all, we’re billing $1,000 an hour for their stupidity."

Jaime (grinning):

"Exactly. Remember that tech client? Spent half a million on a compliance audit, then ignored every single recommendation. Called us six months later in a panic—turns out they got fined for non-compliance. I told them, ‘That’ll be another half a million to clean up the mess.’"

Barristan (sighing):

"Clients don’t care about reason or logic. They care about speed and plausible deniability. The sooner you accept that, the less the absurdity will bother you."

Robert (raising his glass):

"To the absurd, then. It keeps us rich."

[They clink glasses as an associate enters with a folder labeled "URGENT: Client Demands." No one moves to take it, and the associate retreats awkwardly.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439588)

Robert (grumbling):

"Technology, Jaime. It’s supposed to make things easier, right? Then why the hell did I just spend 20 minutes trying to unmute myself on a Zoom deposition? The court reporter thought I was having a stroke!"

Jaime (smirking):

"You should’ve asked IT for help, Robert. They live for these moments—makes them feel important."

Robert (snorting):

"Asked IT? Last time I called, they told me to ‘restart the machine.’ Restart the machine? I’m billing $1,000 an hour, Jaime. I don’t have time for restarts."

Barristan (calmly):

"The problem isn’t the technology. It’s the people using it. I once saw an associate accidentally share their desktop during a hearing. The judge spent five minutes staring at their Spotify playlist before anyone noticed."

Jaime (laughing):

"That’s nothing. Remember that AI brief Jenkins submitted? Cited a case that doesn’t exist. The partner spent an hour explaining to the client why ‘ChatGPT v. United States’ wasn’t binding precedent."

Robert (grinning):

"Good. Let him sweat. These associates need to learn—technology doesn’t win cases. We do. You think a computer can handle cross-examination? You think it can intimidate a witness into cracking? Machines don’t bleed, Jaime. We do."

Barristan (nodding):

"Technology is a tool, nothing more. But the moment you rely on it, you’re at its mercy. And the law doesn’t show mercy to anyone, especially not lawyers."

Robert (raising his glass):

"To human error. Without it, we’d all be out of a job."

[The partners clink glasses as a young associate enters, carrying a laptop. He hesitates, then nervously places it on the table and leaves. None of them touch it.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439591)

Robert (grumbling):

"This is what they call a retreat? We’re supposed to be brainstorming firm strategy, and half the partners are on the bunny slopes. Did you see Davies out there? In a neon snowsuit. Gods, I was embarrassed for him."

Jaime (smirking):

"At least he showed up. Tyrell called in ‘sick’—said he had altitude sickness. Altitude sickness, Robert. We’re at 8,000 feet, not Everest."

Robert (snorting):

"Pathetic. Back in my day, a retreat meant twelve hours of PowerPoints followed by a three-hour dinner where we debated the price of toner. These kids think it’s a vacation. ‘Team-building,’ they call it. I call it a waste of billable time."

Barristan (turning, his tone grim):

"A true retreat isn’t about slopes or spas, Robert. It’s about survival. I once attended a retreat where the managing partner locked us in a room with nothing but coffee and case files. Said we couldn’t leave until we’d solved a hypothetical antitrust scenario. One junior passed out. The rest of us came back stronger."

Jaime (grinning):

"Strong words, Barristan. But I don’t see you volunteering for the karaoke session tonight. They’re calling it ‘Karaoke for the Client Cycle.’"

Robert (laughing bitterly):

"Karaoke? Gods, this firm has gone soft. Do you think anyone at Skadden is singing ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ right now? No, they’re billing. That’s what a real retreat is—outbilling the competition."

Barristan (nodding):

"The only song we should care about is the hum of the copy machine. Everything else is noise."

[The room falls silent as the partners glance at the retreat schedule. Icebreaker games and ‘mindfulness yoga’ sessions are listed alongside breakout strategy sessions. Robert sighs heavily and reaches for his scotch.]

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5638429&forum_id=2...id.#48439594)