Filler.

Earlier this week, I attended a dinner that was honoring one of our clients. Normally, I pass on these types of events but I am working on one of this client's cases so when I was invited a few weeks ago, I was delighted to fill a seat at our firm's table. However, as it got closer, more facts became known about the dinner.

First, the institution's website described the dinner as a gala. To me, that is code for black tie. But, on a Tuesday? Surely not. As it turns out, it was business attire. Suits are not my favorite thing to wear but they are infinitely better than bringing a gown to work.

Next, the day before the dinner, we received an email informing us that in addition to our firm employees, we will have four Holocaust survivors sitting with us (the institution was the Illinois Holocaust Museum). Well, that sounds . . . sad. I talked to some people who said it would not be sad, so much as like having dinner with your grandparents and to be prepared to speak loudly.

Finally, the only non-Holocaust survivor and non-partner other than me would be a guy named Ravi Shankar. Not THE Ravi Shankar, which would have been cool, but just some kid that I had not met.

On the afternoon of the dinner, I was talking to my mom about the dinner ahead. I told her my current plan was to open with "can we see the tattoo" and follow that with "hey, did you bring your sitar" and close with, "I'm out!" successfully offending everyone and avoiding eating what was surely going to be rubbery chicken.

As it turned out, the dinner was not bad. The beauty of low expectations, I suppose. Even though I had googled it, I did not realize what a big deal the dinner was. The Mayor was there along with other local politicians. Funny enough, while our client is a billionaire, it turned out that he was not even the richest man in the room. (I haven't been able to decide if that must have been super-annoying to him or if it happens more often than I'd think given that rich people tend to stick together . . . and there are over 600 people per Forbes who are richer than him.) There were only two Holocaust survivors. The lady who sat nearest to me had written 12 books on genocide but was so old now that she did not speak much and when she did it was to complain to her grandson about the food (who helpfully reminded her, "I told you it wasn't going to be good. You can't make food for 1600 people and it be good"). The keynote speaker was former Secretary of Defense Robert Gates. I think probably 1600 people were surprised to learn that he is really quite funny (until he turned really quite scary when discussing the options with Iran).

The only thing I was not entirely wrong about was the food: it was not rubbery chicken. It was rubbery fillet.