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Several years ago, my friend Amy insisted on taking Ralph and me to dinner. Although it was somewhat embarrassing to allow a 26-year old to treat us to an expensive meal, we acquiesced to her demands.  

Amy was participating in a summer internship at an international law firm in San Francisco. She ordered the wine and the appetizers and made suggestions as to what we should have for a main course. We listened to her advice. Amy had been in town for less than three months, but she had already visited most of the trendy restaurants in the city. She knew what she was talking about. 

I have known Amy since she was a baby. I was her fourth grade teacher back in 1982 when she was an eager, innocent 9-year old. She was smart and sensitive, the kind of kid who stuck up for other people’s rights when she thought they had been treated unfairly. She was straightforward and honest to a fault. You always knew where Amy stood on an issue, whether it was about a passage in Little House on the Prairie or a segment of Mork and Mindy. 

After university she went to Manhattan to work at Legal Aid. She became an authority on housing issues for the poor. Attorneys called her from throughout the city to get information and advice. When Amy decided to go to law school, everyone wanted her. Not surprisingly, she chose an Ivy League university with an excellent reputation. 

Now she was sitting across from Ralph and me, telling us about her summer. She picked at her tuna tartare. “I go out for lunch everyday. The staff lawyers are required to entertain the interns. We choose the restaurant. The company picks up the tab.”  

“Wow,” I said. 

“I’ve been to Aqua, Bix, Boulevard, The Slanted Door, and LuLus. Next week I’ll try 42 Degrees, Postrio, and Masas. In the evenings I can go to any cultural event. I keep the receipt, turn it into accounting and the firm reimburses me. Last weekend they took all the interns to Napa Valley. The week before we visited Monterey. We went to cooking school and learned how to prepare snails. Here, taste this tuna. It’ s not half bad.”  

I tried the tuna, the soft goat cheese polenta and the fresh summer greens with balsamic vinegar. Everything tasted good. I thought about going to law school. 

“What do you do all day at work?” I asked. 

Amy smiled. “Well, you won’t believe this, but I don’ t roll in until 9:30 a.m. I read the paper. Then I go out for a latte. I ask my secretary to check my messages. I do a little research and then write a memo on some obscure legal concept. I look over papers then I go to lunch. After lunch I make reservations for dinner for the next evening. I talk to some of the associates. I find out where everyone is going after work. By then it’ s 5:30 and time to hit the health club.”  

“You belong to a health club?”  

“Of course. But I’ve been eating so much I’ ve gained weight, even though I work out almost everyday.” To emphasize her point, she unbuttoned the top of her Capri pants. 

“May we have the dessert menu?” she asked our waiter as he approached the table. Turning to us she said, “You guys decide what you want for dessert. I’m going to step outside and have a cigarette. That will keep me from eating more.”  

Ralph and I watched her as she left. “Wow,” I repeated. “I remember when a peanut butter sandwich on white bread was Amy’s favorite meal.”  

“Things change,” answered Ralph. 

“I wonder why the law firm doesn’t get their interns involved in charity causes like a homeless or battered woman’s shelter, or an organization fighting for disability rights?”  

“Suzy,” said Ralph from his wheelchair. “Get real. She’s being groomed to become a lawyer.”  

But I’m pleased to say that Amy had an ulterior motive all along. She gave the big international law firm exactly 363 days, enough to pay off her debt to them and put away a little money so that she could do what she’s always wanted to do. Now she’s a public defender representing first-time drug offenders at the Bronx Drug Court, with the goal of keeping them out of jail. She took a $100,000 salary cut to work long, frustrating hours for a clientele that is stuck on the bottom of the court system.  

Next time Amy comes to visit, we’re taking her out for dinner.