The Automaton

Today, I had some burning questions.  So I went to visit the Automaton on the forty-third floor.

I knocked on his open door and entered upon his command.

“Be seated, please.”

I sat.

“How can I help you?”

“I have questions.”

“Good.  I have answers.”

I fidgeted a bit, struggling to look the Automaton in his emotionless face.  He sat erectly, his forearms and hands resting on the desk in front of him–a ballpoint pen perched atop his right thumb and forefinger.

“My work is dominating my life.  I have no time or energy for anything else.  Is this typical?”

The Automaton began to spew company line: “At this firm, we respect work-life balance.  A happy attorney is a good attorney.  Many of our attorneys have children.  As parents, they attend their children’s events.”

I nodded.  The Automaton stared back at me, void of sentiment.

“But how do they manage this?  The work is consuming me, but my bosses want more.”

The Automaton paused before repeating himself: ”"At this firm, we respect work-life balance.  A happy attorney is a good attorney.  Many of our attorneys have children.  As parents, they attend their children’s events.”

I sat defeated.  The Automaton continued to stare at me, neither annoyed nor pleased.  I thanked him and walked back to my office.