Walking down the stairs past the zipper shop, I understood the difference, and it wasn’t courage.

It was that this time I was buying something instead of selling it.

Chapter 3 — Four Hundred and Sixteen Days

Litigation, it turns out, is mostly waiting by a mailbox.

Kit sent Oakridge Management what she called a preservation letter, which is a formal way of telling a company that if any documents about me happen to disappear now, it will look extremely bad later.

Then she filed. Then nothing happened for six weeks.

Then Oakridge’s lawyers filed a motion to dismiss that ran to thirty-one pages and argued, essentially, that I was too late, that everything they’d said was protected, and that a contract cleaner isn’t really an employee anyway.