Last night, on the season première of 24, we see a different Jack Bauer: not the no-holds-barred, assassin-type Jack, but the grandfather who wants nothing more than to stay retired and play with his cute granddaughter all day. But for reasons I cannot fathom, Kim–Jack’s no good, always-makes-dumb-decisions-so-that-Jack-has-to-risk-his-life-to-bail-her-out, daughter–decides to persuade her father that he needs to save the world. Again. Not only is this stupidity to the nth power (we just know that Jack’s going to be beaten to a pulp and almost die, it’s actually cringe-worthy at this point because Kiefer Sutherland is starting to show his age, and who really wants to see a grandfather get tortured anyway?), but it’s simply unrealistic for Kim to tell Jack to put himself in harm’s way for the eighth time after she had spent the first seven seasons as the critical daughter who constantly loathed her father for his job, for being away, for always putting his family at risk due to his profession. It would have been far more persuasive if Jack had simply said, upon Chloe’s entreats, “Yes, I made you go through hell and do crazy things that could have ruined your life and career so I owe you one.” But this is 24, where the writers apparently enjoy seeing how absurd the plotlines can get while we, the viewing audience, continue to watch the show. They’re probably thinking to themselves: “Suckas! You think that requires suspension of disbelief? Wait until next week!”
So what does any of this have to do with associate bonuses, the topic that we started last week and continue to explore in this week’s posts? Well, a lot, actually. You see, it’s naturally exciting to get worked up over the bonus check. It’s a lump sum payment of what could appear to be a substantial amount of money. And who doesn’t get worked up over large amounts of money? So when we get the bonus, our natural human reaction is to be giddy like school children, and spend it on something nice. Bonuses have funded BMW M3s, Ducatis, and Corvettes.
The bonus also acts as affirmation that we’ve accomplished something. As human beings, we like to feel accomplishment. Getting a bonus is a weird sort of approval from the firm partnership that you are doing well. Conversely, not getting the bonus when your colleagues are makes you feel that you are somehow “lagging” or “behind.”
But what’s really happening? Let’s blow away the smoke, shatter the mirrors, and reveal Oz for who he really is. Is the bonus really as large as it first appears? If you’ve read last week’s posts, you know that the math usually doesn’t add up, and you are actually being paid far less per hour for those “bonus” hours that, if anything, should be worth far more. As for accomplishing something, what have you really accomplished? If you billed 2,200 hours instead of 2,000, what did you accomplish? Aside from losing friends, pissing off your family for not calling or visiting often, accruing massive sleep dept, and otherwise displaying all the symptoms of a tired, grouchy workaholic?
You see, “Oz” would like you to believe that the bonus means something, that you should want to work that hard, that you are amply rewarded for your hard work (lump sum checks appear larger than they actually are), and that the firm “appreciates” your hard work. It’s true, Oz gladly pockets the vast majority of the profits from your severely underpaid overtime work, but the only appreciation you truly receive is the figment of imagination in your head that tells you that the firm appreciates it.
Somehow, Oz has convinced you that you should compete with your fellow associates to see who sleeps less, who bills more hours, who sacrifices more for the firm–and that this is supposed to all be a good thing. Like the writers of 24, Oz feeds you the absurd, packages it with a red bow, and somehow we do suspend our disbelief.
Welcome to the world of 24, I mean, Biglaw.
