Carl, My Business Lawyer

In truth he was no longer anyone’s lawyer, having been disbarred years ago. He was a sharp number, and came to me via a recovering alcoholic friend. Carl and I became friends. He wished to buy my business, but the deal fell apart when his moneyman refused to put down the agreed upon non-refundable deposit.

It then went to strange.  Within an hour of the collapse Carl’s wife, Barbara, called. She wanted to have a baby soon, very soon. If the sale did not go through there would be no baby…and I would be responsible. Barbara was in no mood to hear my concerns, and crying, hung up. I brooded, thinking she might go back to drinking.

Carl phoned minutes later. “Barbara’s hysterical”, he said. It was October 1983, long before cell-phones. I was dumbfounded when Carl interrupted my explanation of the conversation with Barbara to “advise” me they had mistakenly recorded Barbara’s call . Did you ever have the feeling you wanted to stay and still have the feeling you wanted to go?  I sure did.

“Carl, you are one stupid fucking son-of-a-bitch” came to mind. I said, “Carl that is very strange and unfortunate. Why did you share that “mistake” with me?” Silence followed until I hung up.