It's like this, see? I'm an associate in a small D.C. law firm. In case you don't know, the difference between large firms and small firms is that at large firms, everyone gets rich. Be that as it is, we are a very small family, trying to keep from openly hating one another, biding our time before we each find something useful to do with our time.
Among the peculiarities of our firm, our social events largely consist of two parties. The winter event is a typical holiday party, the summer event is when we go to the managing partner's house for a catered dinner.
The problem is that even in this modern day and age, when we call our coworkers by their first names and are allowed to enter in through the front door of the office regardless of rank, visiting Casa de Partner is sort of like the Cratchits visiting Scrooge, if Scrooge lived in a multi-million dollar house in the close-in suburbs.
Maybe the incongruity of employees (including attorneys, not that it makes a whole hell of a lot of difference) struggling to pay rent in shared apartments visiting an ostentatiously decorated mini-mansion once a year shouldn't rankle. It does. As much as I believe in capitalism and the profit motive, seeing first-hand how the firm's profits translate into opulence for the firm's leadership is jarring.
I guess the way I can wrap my head around the disparity is to be proud of the managing partner the way whores are proud of their pimps. Our efforts make it possible for Daddy to drive the stretched out Lincoln, with a gold and gem-encrusted goblet and a feather in his ermine hat. We make the Johns happy, we give Daddy the cash, and we hope that Daddy doesn't have to put the smackdown on us.
The funny thing is the point of the outing is to improve morale and firm solidarity.