The company I work for periodically publishes an employee directory, a sort of staff yearbook—photographic evidence of one's sanctioned presence in the building. It's useful for putting names with faces should you need to keep an eye out to welcome a visitor from another magazine, or determine who to derisively reference in the story of The Girl Who Won't Say "Thanks" When You Hold The Door Open Because Apparently She Is The Queen And The World Is Her Court.
However, my camera aversion has a well-documented history (or not, as the case may be), and I occupy space all to myself in Directory '08. A single blank page with small print: Not Pictured, KF.
Sure, there are people like my gorgeous friends, whose photos look like glamorous headshots. But I endured years of school pictures, and that just isn't in the cards for me. I tend to stare into the lens with a mixture of revulsion and nausea, and that isn't the face I want seared onto my professional reputation (which is beyond reproach, natch). So I apologize, corporate e-mail sender, but your cheery-tinged-with-threat REMINDERS! that there are make-up photos to be had have gone unheeded. For seven years. (You can stop sending them now.)
All of which is to say that when LSis alerted me to this Web site, I was enthralled.
That's fine lawyerly stock, there. Stalwart, responsible, trustworthy, and at least one bow-tie-in-residence.
Which is what makes this all the more amazing. Click on "Attorneys" to see a list of the decorated men and women who make up the firm. (I've only included men here because ... well, they're more awesome in this context.) See their suit-clad seriousness, their laundry lists of awards and accomplishments.
Take Mr. Long, for example. Numerous bar admissions, extensive work history, and patents to his name. The man is an inventor. Then click "Meet Army."
Well, that's ... kicky? I'm not sure what "Last Place Visited" is all about, except as a starting point for potential stalkers, but I'm not too worried about ole Armistead, here. He carries a firearm.
His counterpoint? Young Jeff.
Sure, Jeff is a little green, "the newest member" of the team, but he has renegade potential. (He "limited plaintiff's recovery to one dollar." TAKE THAT, greedy litigious types.) Also he manages to carry off a youthful smirk without looking like he's wearing his grandfather's suit. And on the weekends?
Jeff is a fan of "outlaw country," a vision in double denim. Sorry ladies, he's married. To a piano teacher. I bet he tells people they make beautiful music together. THUD.
I suspect he has a lot to learn from O.E.
A stunning resume. He protected the entire city's water supply! He's only now working part-time after a 45-year career! Why are you doing this to him?
Oh, O.E. You look tremendous. I hope you wrote this bio yourself, wherein you cheekily admit that you "[have] been known to liven many a dull gathering with [your] ever-present harmonica or by tickling the ivories with familiar tunes." Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America, Inc.? Incredible. I hope the SFTPAEOBSQSIN knows how lucky it is.
Also, nice gams.
And what of your buddy Brian?
He seems like a gentle soul. An estate planner, the man who is there during your last precious days. Someone who counsels disenfranchised taxpayers, the disabled, minors, and, apparently, the "irresponsible."
Someone who ... cuts meat. And has a passion for trains. He also counts "the beach" as his guilty pleasure, adding him to a growing list of these lawyers for whom guilt = not being at work. Nice job, Van Winkle! Way to crack the whip.
And let us not forget baby-faced David.
He has a nice smile, and a relaxed stance, and an enormous tie. What's his behind-the-suit persona?
He's Kayaking Guy! In the smallest possible shorts. Favorite music? "Anything playing locally." Meaning within paddling distance, I presume.
Dale looks like a nice man.
Fluent in Spanish, with successful jury verdicts, dismissed cases, and state Supreme Court appearances. What could he possibly have to show us?
Um, did he buy these people from a catalog? This reads like a list of Stuff White People Like: Mormons, Alaska, the White House, golf, Springsteen, and chocolate chip cookies. Ah, the Latter-Day Saints. You tickle me.
Come on! We need someone hardcore. Someone willing to shake things up a bit. Jones, surely it can't be you.
Look at ya, all innocent and slouchy. You can't possibly be the quiet rock star.
I STAND CORRECTED. Carry on with your bad self, Jonesy.
Mark seems like a tall drink of water.
He was in the Legal Elite. He looks confidently at the camera, like a man with a lot to be proud of.
Hey, Mark? Your bio says you have five children, but you have appeared to wrangle only two of them. And a goat. Maybe spend more time at home, 'k?
Hi Roy! Oh you are definitely someone's grandpa, aren't you?
You look like you have a twinkle in your eye and candy in your pockets.
ACK! HOLY HOO HAH!
Jesus, Roy. A little warning, please?
I don't know anything about the collective work of this firm, but I see some pretty admirable community service and legal do-goodery (judgments for victims of clergy abuse, legal wrangling for the elderly and those with special needs). So I can't decide whether this exercise was the product of coercion, or whether this particular group of attorneys just has a really fantastic sense of humor. I prefer to think of it as the latter, which makes Albert an absolute standout.
Weekend Albert. They are the same! He was all, fuck you I refuse to wear my windsurfing ensemble on the Internet.
Marry me, Albert.