Ugh. When I first passed the bar I worked as a legal research assistant for a defense attorney in the foothills. It was not a terrible job, but I was in his office one day when he was on the phone with someone at the district attorney's office, and he said to the person, "I'll have my girl come pick it up." Meaning me.

When he got off the phone I raised my eyebrows and said, "Would you like me to pick up your dry cleaning while I'm out?" If he'd had an ounce of shame he'd have gotten the point, but he was so dumb that he just went, "Huh? What? Of course not, my wife takes care of that."

(The happy ending is that I later wound up supervising him on a couple of cases. I did not refer to him as "my boy.")