"One Like You"

This morning, as I walked up the steps toward the courtroom (I'm an attorney, for those of you that didn't know), I was greeted by a frantic bailiff. He ran down the steps as fast as his gray haired, seventy-something year old legs could carry him and announced, "The judge is waiting for you! Hurry up! He's on the bench waiting for you!" My heart started racing. Stress took over and I started to feel the knots develop in the back of my neck.

He met me half way on the steps and grabbed my files from me in an effort to be helpful. As he was lightening my load, I said, "He's waiting for me? I'm not supposed to be in court until 8:15. It's only 8:00."

"Aren't you supposed to be in front of Judge Green?"

"No. I'm in front of Judge Smith."

"Oh, I'm sorry." And with that, he handed me back my files and went back to his courtroom.

About an hour later, I ran into the bailiff again. I was returning to court to deal with a Defendant who didn't make it to court on time earlier in the morning. As he passed me on the steps, he said "I'm sorry about earlier. Judge Green was waiting for another one like you."

The only reason that I knew what "another one like me" meant was because on my way to court, I passed an unfamiliar African-American woman who, I could tell by the badge around her neck, worked for the Department of Social Services. We spoke to each other in that "I'm sooooo happy to see another Black person who's not a defendant" kind of way and kept moving. She was the other one like me to which the bailiff was referring.

Here's the rant: Another one like me?! Really?!!!! Wow.

And for those of you wondering, yes, the bailiff was Caucasian.