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It’s happy hour! What are we doing drinking coffee? It’s the kind of Friday night that calls for a martini – straight up.

I take my usual seat at the Lobby Lounge bar, looking around at the flurry of activity as hotel guests arrive for the weekend and the suits and gowns sashay in for their festivities. Tom takes the seat next to me, sipping a clear mug of caffeinated bliss, just like me. He’s another regular, but one that I haven’t yet met. Based on the way the staff flock to him to exchange pleasantries and jokes,  I presume Tom is a guy I’d like to get to

The new law-student bartender is reciting a litany of her favorite professors and Tom chimes in when he has a tidbit of advice. He went to Notre Dame Law School and graduated in 1987, but has been practicing law in Milwaukee and coming to the Pfister ever since.

Poshly dressed in a clean-pressed gray suit and contemporary tortoise shell frames that he repeatedly takes on and off his face, Tom is a criminal defense attorney. His hair, just a shade lighter than his suit, is neatly combed back. He’s delaying a congested highway drive back to Chicago, so he stays a little longer to chat with me. Oh great, since he’s been around for so long, maybe he’ll have an idea for a great story, I think to myself.

He asks what I do for a living and I begin to tell him about my position as the Pfister’s writer in residence and about my work with nonprofits. We find common ground when talking about the nuances and legal implications of grant writing.

Wait, what is happening? I am a turning into a character in my own story. He’s grilling me like a burger at a Memorial Day cookout. Or, well, like a criminal defense attorney. And I just keep slinging back answers, retracing my twenties with this man I don’t even know, but seems like an old pal. I am talking fast, two-cups of coffee fast. I took him from my life in college in Iowa City to my first job in Chicago, and then throughout the jobs and apartments in Milwaukee that I’ve occupied.

I tell other people’s stories, I am not here to tell mine! Somehow we’ve reversed roles and Tom is the storyteller tonight. He extracted biographical information from me that I never intended to share. Rather than reciprocate, the only information Tom shared was that he’s looking forward to retirement in Wisconsin’s north woods. “Maybe I’ll get a job at Wal-Mart or something. I am looking for an  opportunity with absolutely no fiduciary obligation,” he confesses.

And just as quickly as he arrived, he set off into the traffic to head home to Chicago. I didn’t quite get why he’s living in Chicago now  so I suppose his story will remain untold – for now.

He must be an amazing cross examiner.


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