Friday, June 12, 2015
Young Law
Fresh from law school, neither Lorne or Erin find work.
So they decide to sue...anyone. For giggles and experience.
Enter Chuckie McCoy. Fierce Socialist, but money in the
family--though he pretends otherwise.
With his spurring, the attorneys file suit against a small
beachwear manufacturer, seeking damages for flagrant
violations of overtime regulations.
They thought the Judge, while not dismissing things as
frivolous, would throw it back to the proper government
agency regulating same.
But, under the Republicans, regulation little or none, so he,
a Democrat, lets it go on.
In the meantime, our fledgling attorneys do get hired by
separate law firms. They keep the case as a sort of service,
social hobby. The firms came aboard too, warily.
Two years pass, and the original manufacturer absorbed
by a rapacious conglomerate, which wants messy legal
triviality off the books, so a meeting arranged to forge
a settlement in a baronial penthouse boardroom atop a
new skyscraper of flash and aluminum.
They offer to pay ten thousand to each aggrieved worker.
The young lawyers pour sarcasm back.
The initial Socialist has become a maniacal Righty, but such
metamorphosis alters little re immediate Justice--except
the reluctance to pursue it.
Just really curbs civilized expression.
What’s finally resolved: Workers receive fifteen thousand each.
PCM in Conglomerate-Speak.
Paper clip money.
Since, their efforts pro bono, of course, our attorneys get
nothing, but their firms like the PR value: fighting for the
underdog, and sweeten their bonuses thereby.
The former Socialist glad to see it all end: embarrassed
by his once shrieking out for the little guy crushed by
etc etc etc.
Now he’s for the Freedom for that same little guy to
choose to be crushed.
Inside, doesn’t feel that different.
Labels: conglomerate, Justice, Law, lawyer, overtime, Right, socialism
