Negotiate me!

Office anthropology™ →Go uptown The JC puts on his pith-helmet, grabs his butterfly net and a rucksack full of marmalade sandwiches, and heads into the concrete jungleIndex: Click ᐅ to expand: Work anthropology Tell me more Sign up for our newsletter — or just get in touch: for ½ a weekly 🍺 you get to consult JC. Ask about it here.

There is a certain sort of legal eagle who can’t help over-reaching, thrusting into what should be workaday draft, some kind of nuclear capability which, she assumes, just — for the avoidance of doubt — vouchsafes with absolute certainty a state of affairs about which little doubt in the first place existed, but does it in a way calculated — nay, guaranteed — to raise the hackles of her opposite number, who will then feel no option but to argue the toss.

This is rather like wandering around the high-school hop with a “kick me!” sticker on your backside. Except it is a “negotiate me!” sticker, and you wear it on your forehead.