I work with a lot of much younger co-workers. The “just a minute” phenomena, which used to be a pain, has become a welcome chance to do a little knitting. Let’s listen in –
“Have you got just a minute?”
“Sure, just let me grab my yarn. What’s up?”
“I have a quick* question?”
*Note: There is no such animal as a “quick question.”
“Great, I love questions. What is it? Have a seat.”
“Well, I have this really weird case? Um, okay, the plaintiff had a bicycle? But, then her boss gave her ex-husband a ferret? Okay, so later their daughter was in a car accident?”*
*(Note: Has anyone located the DNA sequence that causes young women to say everything – even their names – with a questioning intonation? “Hi, I’m Jennifer?”)
Several rows later we get to the point, which inevitably has nothing to do with ferrets, bicycles, or car accidents.
Yesterday, I got about ten rows done while sorting out a problem with interlocutory appeals – I think the corporate types call this a Win/Win situation!
He lived in the apartments across the street, so it was possible. Anyway, ONE DAY, as I 
Many Happy Returns 