Oliver's Twist of Fate

Oliver Barker, a 27-year-old lawyer, sat on a bench in front of the Austin Public Library eating a day-old donut. He'd done most of his studying for the Bar Exam at the library. Only two days earlier, without much fanfare, he’d been sworn in as a Texas lawyer. He took today off to search for his first job as an attorney. So far, the day hadn’t gone quite like he’d hoped. But no matter what, he was a bar-certified Texas Attorney. That feeling of accomplishment stuck with him.

Neither his brothers nor his mother were present at his swearing in ceremony. Growing up wasn’t easy for him and his two older brothers. Oliver’s dad died in a car accident when he was six months old. Their mother did her best to raise three boys without a father. He worked odd jobs to pay his way through law school. Oliver wanted to make his Mom proud. His last internship didn't result in a permanent position. But, nevertheless, he was certified as a lawyer.

The previous night, he had spent hours searching for Associate Attorney openings in Austin. There were multiple openings at law firms located in the Capitol of Texas. He had discovered several within a mile of his downtown loft apartment. 

The alarm buzzed, he rubbed his eyes and glanced at the stack of resumes before rolling out of bed. After a hot shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He looked through his closet and found his only unstained white shirt and his maroon tie. Finally, he pulled out the navy-blue suit he'd bought for the swearing in ceremony. He gazed into the mirror, desperately seeking to feel confident for a successful day ahead. He dabbed gel onto his hand and combed it through his dusty brown hair. Then he turned his head from side to side. I’m presentable, and I am confident.

The firms with openings were located in the Frost Bank Tower. He carefully slipped copies of his resume into his backpack. Then he threw it over his shoulder and carried his bike down two flights of stairs. It was a mild October day in Austin, and the route to the bank was downhill, so he wasn't worried about getting sweaty.

Winded when he arrived, Oliver parked his bike and walked into the bank. As he moved toward the bank of elevators. The guard shouted from the desk. “Hey, young man, where do you think you're going. What’s in the bag?” 

“Nothing, just some resume’s.”

The grumpy guard snorted, “Let’s have a look.” Oliver trotted over to the desk. The guard snatched the backpack from him and began shuffling through it. Then he patted the storage pockets and tossed it back to Oliver. 

“Who are you here to see?”

Oliver broke a broad smile. With his shoulders straight and chin high, he said, “I’m visiting multiple law offices. I’m going to land a job today,” his blue eyes sparkled.

The guard looked back down at the desk, “Well, good luck and have a nice day.” 

The elevator doors were about to close. Oliver yelled, “hold the door, please”, as he jogged to the elevator. A sophisticated lady with an attaché case held the door for him. Oliver drew a deep breath, “thank you, ma’am.” He sighed, “fifteenth floor, please.” She pushed fifteen. “I’m a newly certified attorney. I’m here to get a job today.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t look at him. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She stepped out. As the doors began to close, she whispered over her shoulder, “good luck.” His plan was to work his way down the building floor to floor. One law office after the other until he landed a job. 

On the fifteenth floor, the brass sign beside the office door read, Smith Baker and Associates. He slowly opened the door. With one brow raised, the receptionist said, “May I help you?”

Oliver, barely able to muster up the confidence in his tone, he stood straight, his shoulders back and chin up. “I’d like to speak to the partner in charge of hiring.” She looked at him as if he were from another planet. Oddly, he felt what she was thinking. The fiber of his being trembled. But, he remained calm.

She huffed, and with an attitude picked up the phone and tapped a button. There’s a— gentleman here to see you about a position with the firm. She paused and listened, then she asked, “What’s your name?” 

He replied in a confident tone, “Oliver Barker.”

She stared up at him. “His name is Oliver Barker. No, he doesn’t have an appointment.” She listened. “Yes, of course,” she said. As she hung up the phone, she motioned to the chairs and sofa behind him. “He’ll be with you shortly. Please have a seat.” 

Oliver glanced around the reception area at the plush carpeting and leather furniture. He took a seat at the end of the sofa. 

The receptionist’s phone buzzed. “He’ll see you now. Please follow me.” She said, standing to straighten her fitted skirt. They passed multiple offices with men and women who paid little attention to them as they passed.

She stopped, “The last door on the left.”

A thin middle-aged man with thick red rimmed glasses glanced up, “We don’t have any openings.” then he looked back down at his desk. “Have a nice day.”

Oliver drew a deep breath. His voice quivering, he said, “Excuse me sir, but your website did show you have an opening for an Associate. May I leave a copy of my resume?”

The man looked up and said, “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. You can put your resume there.” He pointed to the corner of his desk. Oliver leaned in and slipped a copy of his resume onto an already cluttered desk.

Oliver cleared his throat, “Thank you for your time.” 

Several hours later, and now on the third floor, Oliver pressed the down button for the final time. He had spoken to the last firm with an opening, and was now numb to rejection. The lady who held the elevator door for him earlier was extremely polite, but she wasn't willing to take a chance on him. 

On his way home, he stopped at his favorite donut shop. The lingering smell of fresh-baked donuts filled the air. It somehow helped him feel less defeated. He pointed to a frosted one in the day-old section. “I’ll take the pink one.” He finished his donut on the bench in front of the library. Across the street, he noticed a single door nestled between the shops. Strangely, he didn’t remember seeing it before. The sign on the transom window caught his eye. It read Attorneys at Law. He tossed the donut wrapper into the trash bin and jogged across the street.

He slowly pulled open the door. The interior of the lobby was stark, with only a concrete floor and few folding chairs. At the end of the room was an empty reception desk with a bell. He stepped across and tapped the bell. His pulse pounded in his ears as he waited. 

“Confidence Oliver.” He whispered to himself. After a few long moments, an elderly woman stepped up. 

“Yes, may I help you?”

He said with confidence, “I'd like to speak with the partner in charge of hiring?”

She stared him up and down, a reaction he’d grown accustom to. “Are you seeking employment?” She asked.

Oliver hesitated and then said, “ma'am, I'm an attorney, and I'm here to offer my services.” 

She grunted and said, “Wait here.” Oliver stood frozen. When she returned, she said, “Bobby says he’ll see you. First office on the right.”

“Bobby?”

“Yes, Bobby Buchanan. He owns the firm.”

When he reached the office, he discovered a portly man on the phone. His red ostrich boots were crossed on the desk as he leaned back in a wooden desk chair. A black Stetson atop the bookcase behind him. On his right hand, a Super Bowl sized diamond ring. His hair thick and wavy, almost white. He motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.

He continued his conversation. “Yeah, I get what you're say’n. But here’s the deal. He’s look’n at maybe five for the pimp charge. We need him to plead ––OK. I get that too, but let's drop the gun charge. Understand, I get it.” He hung up and stared at Oliver over his boots. In a quick motion, he sat up and put his feet on the floor. The chair creaked as he stood and offered his hand. Oliver quickly stood and took Bobby's large, heavy hand. “Bobby Buchanan, attorney at law.” He boasted with a wide smile. His handshake was firm and vigorous, almost pulling Oliver across the desk.

Oliver cleared his throat and said, “Oliver Barker, pleasure to meet you.” 

Bobby’s chair squeaked when sat down. “So Mr. Barker. What can I do for you?”

“Sir, I’m an attorney.” He glanced down and smiled. Then locked eyes with Bobby, “I’m here to offer my services. I passed the bar two days ago.” 

Bobby stared at him for a second, then a big grin crept across his face, “Hot damn, son. I like your attitude. But, you know, it takes more than an attitude to be a defense attorney.”

Oliver paused, took a deep breath, and with a sparkle in his eye, said, “Sir, I have what it takes. I need a chance to prove it.” 

“Son, there are no free rides in this business.” 

Oliver felt his face flush. His pulse raced. A wave of disappointment washed over him. Then suddenly he felt a sense of challenge. Bobby looked more like a shyster than an attorney to Oliver, but he knew this is where he could prove himself. He drew a deep breath and said, “You put me on a case, and I’ll show you what I can do.”

Bobby laced his fingers together and leaned across the desk, “So if you’re so good. Why aren’t you already working? Like at one of those fancy firms over in the Frost Bank.” 

“Because, I want to practice law where I can make a difference.”

Bobby leaned back into his chair. He cracked a big smiled and said, “So here, you don’t get paid unless you win. It’s all about winning. Are you up for that?”

Keeping his eyes locked on Bobby's, Oliver snapped, “Yes Sir!”

Bobby bent over, opened a desk drawer and pulled out a cigar. He fished a gold lighter from his jacket pocket. The cigar tip glowed red with his first long draw. He reclined back in his chair and blew two perfect smoke rings. “You know being a defense lawyer is hard work, but it can be rewarding too. More often than not, you get the pleasure of beating some know-it-all assistant District Attorney. Nothing beats winning.” He took another draw from his cigar and blew smoke toward the ceiling.

Oliver watched it swirl upward, then said, “My trial skills are good. In trial advocacy, I knocked it out of the park. Something I’m pretty proud of.”

Bobby leaned in and said, “Oliver, you should be proud. The difference between winners and losers are trial skills. It’s all on the line in the courtroom.”

Oliver said, “All I need is a chance to prove what I can do.” 

Around here, we don't take on just any case. His chair squeaked as he sat up and leaned in. “I have a way to get some choices. Pick clients that can be winners.” He stood and grabbed his stetson. “Come outback with me for a minute. I want to show you something.” Oliver followed him outside.

With a childlike curiosity.“What is it?” Oliver asked. 

Pointing across the street, Bobby said, “See that over there. What do you see?” 

Oliver looked across at an awing over a storefront. “Looks like a bail bonds agency to me.” 

Bobby took another draw from his cigar. “Look closer.”

Oliver felt his heartbeat in his ears, “That’s all I see.” 

Bobby blew a puff of smoke and said, “That’s a gold mine. It's the closest one to the county jail. They send all their cases to us first. We almost always get first dibs. There are some real gold nuggets coming from there. I could use some help mining gold. Do you think you got what it takes?”

Oliver smiled, looked Bobby in the eye and said, “I'm your man!”

Bobby grinned and said, “I think you’ve got the balls and the brains. What do you say?”

Oliver asked, “Are you offering me a job?”

Bobby chuckled, “Damn straight I am. Here’s the deal. I get forty percent of any case you win.” He offered his hand.

Oliver took Bobby’s heavy hand, and firmly shook it. “That’s a fair deal, thank you, it’s just what I wanted. A chance to prove myself.”

Oliver let out a heavy sigh, I can’t believe it, what a twist of fate. I stopped for a donut, and now I'm a practicing attorney.

Copyright © 2022 by Chandler Wilson