my perfect job :: essays research papers

I scent pop out the window and manipulate massive buildings, millions of colorful lights lights and above it all a dark iniquity sky. Its almost eight, and I rub my eyes in an bowel movement to wipe a substance exhaustion from the long day. I struggle to hold out up and slowly walk everyplace to the huge window. I look down and see hundreds of tiny cars whoosh in all directions, I think I see muckle, but its too firmly to tell. I sip on my cappuccino while thinking about right aways case. I admire my speech and the carefully thought out questions for the main witness. I remember when I first started my practice a shabby small office on a side-street, working for a snobbish little man who always annoyingly patted his head to make for sure his toupee was still there. I was so inexperienced and scared. I notice that I finished my cappuccino and have been sipping on air for the historical fifteen minutes I laugh at myself and toss the drop cup in the trash. Then I fall back into my thoughts, and I realize that Im proud of me. I proud of my tall(a) bookshelves full of law books which I have all read, my big desk with haemorrhoid of folders with cases waiting to be freed, the confidence I have in the courtroom, the way I worked so hard to be able to say that I love my job, Im round of how eager I am to come in here every morning and I neer want the day to end so I give the sack limp just a little longer. A lot of people can only dream of what I have. I am interrupted by a ring, thats my phone. I pick up the receiver and assay to pull myself back into the details of the case I was going over before I decided to take the much-needed break, its a profession call. For the next half an hour I fall into the conception of justice, right-and-wrong, the world of my client and our case. I hang up with a smile because I like it when I can tell a person I will take care of this, dont worry. This puts people at ease and me in control of the situation so I can give it my best.