the boy in DC

My key client, GC, invited me to ride on one of the corporate planes with him. Formerly the General Counsel, he has been designated as one of the potential successors to the CEO. We drive right up to the tiny jet, and an attendant comes and takes the car away. I meet the pilots, and one of them stows my luggage in the nose of the plane. In we climb, the two pilots, my client, and me.

As soon as the door shuts, he says, “So who’s the boy in DC?”

And I try not to smile too much, as I tell GC about Clerk. GC, as it turns out, was once a clerk himself. So we chat for an hour or so, about law school, about clerking, about GC’s career. He is articulate and charismatic and inspirational.

The plane lands, roughly, in South Bend, Indiana, as Chicago is too stormy. We work for a while, and then take off again.

GC asks, “So this friend of yours must have been on the law review.”

“Yes, I think he was,” I nod.

“And he must have been an editor, and gotten pretty good grades.”

I nod again. “He’s pretty smart.”

“Well, getting good grades in law school doesn’t necessarily mean you’re smart,” he points out, and I grin.