Looking back, I probably should be the last person writing this commentary article. You see, after graduating from Temple Law, passing the bar, which I took on paper (unlike my friends Lily and Vicky who were daring enough to be part of the few allowed to test run taking the exam on laptops), I dutifully presented, bright and early (probably the last time I ever reported to work bright and early), for my first day of work. Upon my arrival, I was introduced to my assistant, Anne. Anne then proceeded to give me both a desktop and a portable Dictaphone and a number of “blank (micro) tapes.”
Oh, I loved those Dictaphones (especially the desktop model). In fact, one afternoon, during my second or third year at the firm, I walked across the courtyard to take a clandestine meeting at another firm to discuss a job opportunity, which I was—mostly for the pay jump—keen about. The meeting was going well, I had met with the partners I would have been working for, met with old classmates who gave me the rundown on life at the firm, and I was given the tour of the newly renovated office space. By the end of the tour, I was sure I was going to take the job. Then I asked the critical question, “where are the Dictaphones?” I was promptly met with puzzled expressions and the phrase, “we don’t use Dictaphones here.” Well, that was that. The pay jump was not great enough to give up my beloved Dictaphones (the portable one, I used to take on vacations with me).
