Page 73 - In Five Years

Immediately, all fifteen lawyers look up, eyes blinking. Sherry, the senior
partner managing the case, answers for the room. “We’re fine, Miles,” she says.
“Mitch!” Aldridge calls for his assistant who is never more than ten feet
away. “Let’s order some Levain. Get these fine people a little caffeine and

sugar.”
“We’ve got it covered, really—” Sherry starts.

“These people look hungry,” he says.
He strolls out of the conference room. I catch Sherry’s eyes narrowing before
she dives back into the document that’s in front of her. Sometimes kindness
under pressure can feel like a slight, and I don’t blame Sherry for reacting that

way. She doesn’t have time to console us with cookies—that’s a privilege for the
very high up.

The thing many people don’t realize about corporate lawyers is that they are
nothing like what you see on TV shows. Sherry, Aldridge, and I will never step
foot in a courtroom. We’ll never argue a case. We do deals; we’re not litigators.

We prepare documents and review every piece of paperwork for a merger or an
acquisition. Or to take a company public. On Suits, Harvey does both paperwork
and crushes it in court. In reality, the lawyers at our firm who argue cases don’t

have a clue what we do in these conference rooms. Most of them haven’t
prepared a document in a decade.
People think our form of corporate law is the less ambitious of the two, and

while in many ways it’s less glamorous—no closing arguments, no media
interviews—nothing compares to the power of the paper. At the end of the day,
law comes down to what is written, and we do the writing.

I love the order of deal making, the clarity of language—how there is little
room for interpretation and none for error. I love the black-and-white terms. I
love that in the final stages of closing a deal—particularly those of the

magnitude Wachtell takes on—seemingly insurmountable obstacles arise.
Apocalyptic scenarios, disagreements, and details that threaten to topple it all. It
seems impossible we’ll ever get both parties on the same page, but somehow we

do. Somehow, contracts get agreed upon and signed. Somehow, deals get done.
And when it finally happens, it’s exhilarating. Better than any day in court. It’s
written. Binding. Anyone can bend a judge’s or jury’s will with bravado, but to