The elevator door opened on the 30^th floor and Baker stepped in. Two men in suits stood at the back, casually chatting. The man in the gray suit had stopped in a liquor store for cigarettes that morning and retold his experience to the man in the blue suit. They had to be lawyers. The elevator was on the way down and the only business in Winton Tower above thirty was a highly reputable law firm. 

            “They had pictures of shoplifters plastered on the outside of the store window. I couldn’t believe it,” said gray suit.

“Really?” asked blue suit. “Just pictures?”

“Nope. Above them in big bold letters was the sentence ‘Shoplifters are not welcome here.’”

Blue suits eyes opened wide. “Holy enchilada! Do liquor stores have money?”

“Yes. And the owners appear to be Middle Eastern, which is excellent. It’s a little harder to go after Indians. They spread their money and ownership across business entities.”

Baker stood in front of the lawyers, facing the closed door as the elevator made its way down.

“Are you thinking about it?”

“No,” said gray suit. “As tempting as it is, it’s not my specialty and I don’t want to go through the trouble of figuring out who these victim are. But it’s solid.” 

The elevator stopped at the 23^rd floor and the doors opened. The lawyers put their conversation on hold while a young woman holding an unzipped insulated tote stepped in next to Baker and turned around. He figured she must have delivered a meal to one of the many companies in the building. The doors closed.

Before the conversation could resume, Baker said a little louder than was necessary, “That’s why lawyers are bad for society.” He continued to look forward at closed doors, but imagined both men in the back were staring at him. In his peripheral vision he saw the young woman had turned her head part way and her attention sat fully on him. 

After an uncomfortable pause, blue suit spoke in a lower tone than before. “What?”

“I said, that’s why lawyers are bad for society.”

There was another pause – this one a little longer and more uncomfortable than the last. Gray suit broke it. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

The young woman stepped away from Baker and the men behind her and repeatedly tapped the button for the next floor. 

“We have a shop owner trying to prevent his property from being stolen. The people doing the stealing have an embarrassing picture on the window. Big deal. It’s a small price to pay for thieving. And anyway, they should be embarrassed. But you guys think they ought to sue.

            “You’re bad for business and you’re bad for the economy. You don’t care about right or wrong and you don’t produce anything. You simply push money across a table from one person to another and scrape a bunch of it into your own pockets. You’re leaches on society.”

The elevator and conversation stopped at the 19^th floor. The young woman disappeared through the doors as soon as they were apart far enough to allow her slender frame. All three men stood in silence while they opened fully, paused, and closed again. Once the elevator was in motion, gray suit spoke. 

“You don’t know anything about us,” blue suit said. “We do more good for the world than you can possibly imagine. And how dare you lump all in together. Some of the best, most important people in the world practice law.”

“I know, I know,” Baker said in mock surrender. “It’s just that 90% that give the other 10% a bad name.”

“I see it upsets you that we can make a living using our intelligence and the best you can do is clean the pipes that the smart people shit down.”

“I’m not a plumber. I’m an electrician,” said Baker.

“Whatever. You are simply support for people much smarter than you.”

“And you are simply a soulless gold digger.”

Blue suit’s ire had been peaked. “And you are going to be fired or out of business!” he blurted out angrily. “I’m going to hang a lawsuit so heavy around your neck, you’re going to beg us to drop it!”

Baker calmly turned around to red faced stares. “Well gentlemen, I’d hate to be sued for nothing, so I think I’ll give it some substance.” Before the lawyers could parse Baker’s meaning a fist connected hard with gray suit’s jaw, making his legs buckle. Blue suit raised his briefcase like a shied as Baker turned on him. 

The doors opened onto the ground floor. Baker strolled out across the lobby and through a revolving glass door into the sunshine. Several accountants returning from lunch peered into the open elevator. Both lawyers had been kicked repeatedly about the head, stomach and ribs. They were alive, but very unhappy.

Several months later the three found themselves standing outside the doors to courtroom department 23, waiting for the bailiff to open it up. 

            Blue suit was now wearing a very nice dark brown suit with an expensive silk tie and cufflinks. “You’re a hypocrite,” he said to Baker. “You claim to hate lawyers, yet here you are with a very expensive one representing you.”

“I know, right?” said Baker. “The irony of it all.” A slight smile traipsed across his lips. “I guess that makes him part of the 10%.”