Trying to unwind at a crowded cocktail party is nearly impossible when your job title makes people either strip down or confess their deepest legal troubles.
An exhausted physician and a sharp-witted attorney were nursing their drinks in a corner, desperately trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace. But every five minutes, another partygoer would corner the doctor.
“Hey doc, mind looking at this weird rash on my elbow?”
“My lower back has been absolutely killing me…”
“Does this asymmetrical mole look dangerous to you?”
After an hour of running a free, impromptu clinic, the doctor rubbed his temples in frustration and turned to his companion. “How on earth do you handle this? How do you stop people from badgering you for free legal advice outside of the office?”
The lawyer smirked over his martini. “Simple. I give them the advice, look them dead in the eye, and then I mail them an invoice the next morning.”
The doctor blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”
“Not even a little bit,” the lawyer shrugged.
Feeling thoroughly inspired and mildly vengeful, the doctor decided to try the tactic. The very next morning, he sat at his desk, drafted official bills for every single guest who had pestered him at the party, and stuffed them into envelopes.
But as he walked down his driveway to drop them into the mailbox, he noticed the mail carrier had already left something behind. He pulled out a single crisp envelope, ripped it open, and froze.
It was an invoice for $500. From the lawyer.
