Today, I shared an elevator with a defense attorney...considerate of me, I know. (You can just tell the defense attorneys from the prosecutors...a practiced eye can even tell the private attorneys from the public defenders. This guy was private. For sure). He commented on my Starbucks muffin, and when I responded, he asked me where I got my "sweet little accent."
I'll admit that I was somewhat reassured by comments like these the first 600 times it happened. At home, no one even thinks I have an accent, so when people here notice the accent, it's nice. But at the same time, I'm pretty sure that when this particular defense attorney decided to ask me about my accent, it never entered his mind that I was 1) educated, and 2) employed by the County Attorney's Office. I also think it rather presumptuous of him to categorize me as "sweet" without even knowing me.
My supervisors tell me that jurors are going to love me. I'm not sure what commentary it is on my lawyering abilities that I'm apparently supposed to depend on a few "y'alls" to win my trials.
You're a steel magnolia! You're the iron hand in a velvet glove! You're a stealth bomber! Just wait til you start using that sweet little accent to flip guys like that on their butts.
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