I thought I'd reached the stage in my life where I've been in about every kind of closing room imaginable.
Many years ago, when the capital gains tax laws were to change on the first of the year, I spent three days in a lunch room at a bank closing scads of transactions that needed to be done by December 31. Every room and hallway was occupied and I think I was lucky to have water and some Cup O’Soup nearby to fortify me between closings.
I’ve been to offices where there is no parking lot, nor any parking available for blocks and blocks. I’ve been to a closing in an attorney’s dining room, where her cat walked across the table more than once. I’ve been so grossed out in a closing attorney’s restroom that I needed to use my pocket hand sanitizer after I washed my hands in his sink. And I’ve been at an office where the distinct odor of the Chinese restaurant downstairs was not as distracting as the escalating sounds of voices in that same restaurant, speaking in a foreign tongue but with unmistakable hostility, that led the closing attorney to ponder aloud whether she should call the police again (come to think of it, this was the same place that confirmed to me before my first visit there that it was handicapped accessible--which it was not-- leaving my client in the teeny lobby while I ran up and down the two flights of stairs to get papers signed and to finish negotiations).
But just when I thought I’d seen it all, I went to a closing the other day and encountered something new. On a low beam on the other side of the closing table hung a Band-Aid© and a $1.00 bill. Why?, I conversationally wondered. The attorney answered that if someone hurt his or her head, “they shouldn’t bother to sue me as all they’re going to get is that Band-Aid© and that dollar”.