Typical Day
Trey Marker starts his day at 6:00AM, waking up and immediately heading straight from bed onto the treadmill in his home gym. As he reads the Business, Entertainment, and Technology sections of the LA Times, he also flips between news channels, trying to take in as much information as possible.
Trey is an excellent multitasker, a voracious reader, and consistent consumer of visual entertainment. So much so that his friends at college used to call him Mr. Media.
After burning 311 calories and finishing his paper, he staggers off the treadmill, dripping in sweat. Slipping into the shower for a quick rinse, Trey goes over his schedule in his head. He has a big day in front of him and doesn't want to forget anything.
He puts on his fluffy white bathrobe, pads downstairs, and fixes himself some scrambled egg whites and fresh spinach for breakfast, along with a cup of very strong coffee. The coffee is robust and works as a nice pick-me-up—it's from a client. Trey's firm recently represented the coffee manufacturer Shmoopbucks, for whom he won a lawsuit against that other Seattle coffee company. Part of the payout was a lifetime supply of beans.
After breakfast Trey feeds his cat, Felix, and calls his mother in New York, as he does every morning at 7:30AM. He looks out on another beautiful day in Los Angeles and listens once again to his mother's list of ailments and complaints.
As Trey hangs up with his mother, his assistant Kate Peycat texts him to say his lunch meeting with media mogul Orval Winspree has been moved up to 9:00AM per request of the client. Trey growls. "Thanks so much for the advanced notice," he says out loud to no one in particular as he hurries to get dressed for work.
At 8:50AM, Trey parks his Ferrari in his spot at Litigious, Marker, and Rosenblatt and hurries in, but not before glancing at his name on the wall. Trey was named partner a couple of years ago after winning a huge lawsuit against California Pizza Oven for trademark infringement. He vowed then to never take for granted how hard he's worked to earn his own parking spot and name on the wall.
As he walks in the door, Kate hands him the trade papers, The Hollywood Reporter, Variety, as well as the gossip rags. Trey has all of this stuff online, of course, but he also likes to have a print version so clients have a visual cue on how up-to-the-minute his information is.
He also defends some bigger-name clients who appear in the gossip columns, so he keeps up with who's (supposedly) dating whom. Trey learned the hard way that the latest Hollywood power couple feels hugely offended if you don't know about their recent trip to Cabo.
Kate informs him that Mr. Winspree is running late. Trey grumbles loudly, thinking to himself that he could've taken the beach route to work instead of the freeway after all.
Taking advantage of the sudden free time, Trey checks his email, reading responses to two different cease-and-desist letters that he fired off last night before bed. Both show the appropriate amount of fear and respect, along with a big ol' apology and reassurance that the offending party will stop using his clients' names starting immediately.
As Trey starts to draft formal responses to his clients' infringers, Kate buzzes his office phone to alert him that Mr. Winspree has arrived.
Bursting into Trey's office, Mr. Winspree cuts immediately to the chase. He's looking for a new IP lawyer to take over his empire and protect him from the many thieves who keep downloading his shows and putting them up on the internet for others to steal.
"Pirates," Trey says. "They're a pain, but I can get rid of them."
"So I've been told," says Mr. Winspree. "I really need someone who's willing to go the distance for me. As you know, I have a lot of properties, and it seems like every day someone new tries to steal my name for this or that, saying I'm promoting something I've never even heard of. Last week there was a cat food company that said I was endorsing their product. I mean, c'mon, everyone knows I'm a dog person!"
"Everyone," Trey agrees with a knowing nod.
"Last week, there was a barbecue sauce that called itself 'Now That's What I Call Good BBQ,' and everyone knows I've trademarked that phrase from one of my shows."
"Everyone knows," Trey once again agrees.
"So, how do I know I can trust you?" Mr. Winspree asks, sizing Trey up through narrow eyes and pursed lips.
"Well, you know I have a great reputation."
"So—"
"And, well, I guess you'll just have to give me a try. I write a mean cease-and-desist letter, you know." Trey smiles, hoping to cut the tension, but Mr. Winspree looks thoroughly unamused. He pulls out an incredibly thick stack of papers, thrusting them onto Trey's desk. "See this," he says?
"Yes?"
"This is the latest batch of my ideas, my products, my hard work that people are trying to steal. My team has found the names and addresses of those trying to steal my work, which I've included in the stack. Now, I need you to write some of your famous letters to take care of these problems."
"There must be a thousand of them in there, maybe more."
"Maybe. I haven't counted," says Mr. Winspree, though Trey has a feeling he has counted—maybe even re-counted.
"If you can write letters that take care of all of these problems within forty-eight hours, you can have my business on a trial basis."
"Wow, okay," says Trey, rubbing his temples.
"And, you need to personally write each and every letter. No farming your work out to your assistant. I answer all of my own mail, so I expect you to do the same."
"Absolutely," says Trey. "I'm on it."
Mr. Winspree gets up and shakes Trey's hand firmly. He smiles at Trey, says he'll be in touch, and leaves as dramatically as he entered.
Trey stares at the giant mountain of work. He knows what he's going to be doing for the rest of the day—or rather, the next two days and nights. But, he reminds himself, it'll be worth it to win Mr. Winspree's business. He commands a huge media empire worth millions upon millions of dollars.
So Trey sets himself to work, writing letter after letter to deal with every kind of scenario of pirating, copyright infringement, and trademark theft imaginable. He briefly considers how much of a nightmare it'd be to have to write them all by hand. Luckily, there are templates for that.
At 6:00PM he realizes he hasn't eaten anything all day except for the egg whites and spinach earlier that morning. He decides to leave the office for the day, pick up some food, and continue working for a few more hours in the comfort of his home.
Dropping the still-massive pile of paperwork on the kitchen table, he stops to feed his cat, who rubs up against him for some attention. But Felix gets it—he realizes Trey is lost in the zone, meows quietly, and curls up on the table next to the stack of work.
Trey stays up until 3:00AM working on the stack, and when he can no longer keep his eyes open, only a quarter of the original amount remains to get through. Time to cease and desist for the night.