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My car is in the shop again. I have a six year old Malibu. I put new brakes on it earlier in the month. The first time the dealership had it, they failed to bleed the brakes correctly and I nearly smashed up the car. I went back the next day and had a bit of a row with the service writer who wouldn't believe me. I ended up having a phone conversation with the service manager and getting a free oil change out of the deal. Fast forward to earlier this week, there's a noise. It's an odd noise emanating from the brakes, it's not a dragging sound, more like a loud creaking noise. I think it's a caliper issue, but I can't say definitively. The service writer I dealt with before wouldn't have anything to do with me this morning, which is fine, because I didn't want to deal with him either. It's sad when you're on a first name basis with the courtesy van driver, but at least he's a fun guy. As long as I can get to work, Beanie's a happy worker. But I'm really hoping I don't have to see him for a while after this...I miss my car.
Rumors are about that my job here may be changing soon. I know they've been interviewing for my position, and sooner or later (I'm hoping for the former), they'll have to make a decision. That gives me new possibilities as to what may be coming next. I keep plunking out resumes locally, but I haven't heard so much as a whimper in response. In the meantime, I'll keep typing like a fiend and filing whenever possible. Because you know, when you have as many degrees as I do...I can alphabetize like no one's business.
With reading of the demise of Buffalo Wings & Vodka and Three Years of Hell, I have begun to wonder openly if I too have overstayed my welcome. Law school is so rife with topics to blog about, but the mundane day to day existence of a post-grad isn't exactly compelling reading. I was hoping to ride the wave until I passed the bar, but that seems to be taking longer than it should, and my first real live lawyer job isn't exactly on the horizon either. So the question remains, is there a place for pseudo-lawyer wannabe on the cusp of total failure in the blawgosphere?
When we first moved into our house we got the local paper. It's not because we actually requested the paper, it was that the previous owners hadn't bothered to stop their delivery. As a result I nearly got into a fist fight with the collection agent because it was somehow my fault that we got the paper without asking for it.
Fast forward 6 years. The paper starts mysteriously arriving in our driveway. Each morning, in a new place, sometimes behind my car, sometimes up near the garage doors, but there it is. No reason given, no slip in the bag telling me why the paper fairies have returned. I don't read the paper. I review it online everyday, but choose not to get all inky from actually reading it. I don't want the paper. My spouse doesn't want the paper. Not wishing to go down this same road, I call after a few days. Takes me 10 minutes and three transfers through menu hell, but I got someone. And I asked, "Why am I getting the paper?" And the answer was given that it's a free sample and it ends at the end of the month. Knowing that no one will harass me about continuing it (they don't have our number, and we're unlisted), I'm mildly appeased by this statement and end the call.
But this isn't what's strange about all of this, it's the frequency with which the paper arrives. Supposedly this is a month's sample. For the first week I got a paper every day. Second week, 6 out of 7 days. Third week, about every other day or every third day. This week? It's Friday. I got a paper today. It's the first one I've gotten since Sunday. Is this a marketing tactic? Slowly wean you from your newly found paper in order to get you to sign up to sate your ink fix? Or is it a really bad tactic showing with what shocking infrequency you'll actually receive your paper? Either way, I'm not buying it. Stop bringing my paper...see if I care!
This is the first year in a long long time that neither I nor my spouse will be in school. It hit me the other day. No notebooks. No highlighters. Not even a new parking sticker. I'll admit it, I'm feeling twitchy. I really want to go and get a small child and take them school shopping at Staples. I want to buy stretchy book covers and funky pens. I want the crisp new paper and the bright yellow highlighting. I want to go buy really expensive textbooks. But I can't. And that's probably a good thing.
This current gig was supposed to be a month. I thought I might be done with it by the Bar Exam. It's now the 4th week of August. There's still no one to replace me. I come in promptly each day and do my duties, but it's becoming dull. I've gotten most everything caught up, and there really aren't any drastic catastrophes that spring up. It's a living, but it's boring. I need some excitement, a new task, something to fill my days. I can only entertain myself for so long. It's weird to be hoping for a replacement, but it'll send me on to new things if it happens. In the meantime, I'll go grab some lunch.
I do primarily all my banking via ATM. It's easy, it's convenient, and luckily for me a branch of my bank happens to be only a short walk from work. It has a very small ATM vestibule which doubles as the only entry to the branch. To the person who was there before me, I have two things to tell them.
1. Do take extra envelopes and write up your deposit before you get to the bank...staring at me waiting behind you does not get it written out any faster.
2. I don't care how catchy Men at Work's Land Down Under may be...I don't need you doing your best disco moves while using said machine. Shaking your butt only a few feet from me does not improve my mood in the least.
I haven't written in a couple of days, but there's really been nothing of note to tell you. I did come to the conclusion that it's a damn good thing I decided not to become an accountant. One full day of nothing but crunching numbers and staring bleary eyed at spreadsheets will take any accounting aspirations out of you. I did start reading a new book...except it's not really new, it's old. My mother found a copy of My Life In Court by Louis Nizer at her parent's house when she was doing some cleaning and thought I might like to read it. It's eyeopening to say the least. My copy is from 1963, but the copyright goes back to 1961. It also was "the electrifying big best-seller for over 60 weeks at $5.95" according to the cover. Hardcovers were pricey. If you can stumble on a copy, I highly suggest reading it. It shows what a real litigator does, and for those of us in the law field, it's amazing to see how things used to work in the courts. The chapters are laid out by important cases he tried, and you're sucked right in to courtroom testimony and all the hard work Mr. Nizer would put into a case. It makes you feel good about the profession again...and I sometimes need that.
I was recently perusing the job posting for alumni at my school's website. Most of them require Bar admission, but some of them are willing to take a look at those of us who haven't passed but just might. Those are the ones I try to jump on. One new one sounded sort of interesting, and I have the background to do the job. I go to submit my resume and cover letter, only to find out they want a writing sample and transcript...for a job that pays $30K. 30K! I make that as a temp. Secretaries make more. Trained paralegals...considerably more. I realize they'd be taking on a freshly minted lawyer, but gimme a break here! It's not even a not-for-profit, it's a law firm. Incredulous doesn't begin to describe it. I'm not submitting my transcript for that. Never mind I wouldn't get the interview anyway based just on the transcript. Still, I just feel gobsmacked. What's this world coming to?
I'm a pale person by nature. I freckle, I don't tan. Suntan lotion is my friend. I carry it on the golf course. Did I use enough yesterday? No. You can tell just how long my shirt sleeves were now. You can also tell where my sunglasses were. It's not a really bad burn, but I look rather pink now. That's what I get for trying to play golf in the morning. But I'm glad I went anyway. I got to get together with a friend from law school and we played a really fun round. Oh, and if I ever run a golf course, I will have a food stand after the 9th where you could pick up a quick bite. There's nothing better than a nice hotdog with ketchup, mustard, relish and onions outdoors between holes. Because like my grandfather has always said, "Hotdogs always taste better outside." I fully agree.
I like to read. I guess that's a given if you go to law school, but recreationally, I've been a voracious reader for decades. (Oooh, how old do I sound there.) Studying for the Bar puts a definite dent in the free reading department. I don't dare read real live books during the studying, because it'll just take up precious brain cells that I need for "benefit of the bargain" and "assumption of the risk" (both of which came up in conversation in the last two days, go fig). However, I'm back in the free reading game, and with it I picked a humdinger of a book. You may have heard of The Interpretation of Murder: A Novel by Jed Rubenfeld because Mr. Rubenfeld is the incoming deputy dean of the law faculty at Yale. This is his debut novel, and all I can say is WOW! For a man who is known for such books as Revolution by Judiciary: The Structure of American Constitutional Law, I was expecting a dry and methodical writing style. But, this is a riveting historical fiction novel with a crime plot that kept me intrigued the entire way through. Crime books usually don't do it for me, but this book had turn of the century New York, Sigmund Freud, murder, repressed sexuality, and then some. It comes out September 6, and I highly recommend it.
After a couple of comments and an email that I've gotten recently, I feel I must explain myself to those who have recently come to this blog. First off, yes, I am a former law student. I graduated in May 2005. I have set for the Bar Exam on three occasions and am waiting on results from the most recent exam in July. I've had this blog since spring semester of my first year of law school, and it was and still is a way for me to vent about all the inanities of life. This is not a research blog, a cutting edge technology blog, or even has that much law in it. It's just me and the longest journal I've ever written. I don't state who I am, where I live, or where I went to school. Anonymity is the spice of life. The way I've always looked at it, it's not necessary to know everything about me. When it comes right down to it, isn't law school a pretty similar experience for everyone? It's a shared nightmare we each go through, and through this blog I've met many people who I've commisserated with over the years about the horrors of it all. And for that I'm grateful. This blog is not a plea for help, a plea for a job, or even a plea for sanity. If you're still reading, congratulations. For those of you who know who I am, let's just keep that between us, shall we? Thanks for the support.
I tried titleling a post last night. It failed miserably. I think this is more of a stream of consciousness work, or at least Blogger seems to think so. Me, I'm trying not to dwell on the fact I'll never be hired as an attorney at this firm. I keep overhearing snippets of "top 10%", "we can afford to be picky", and "has to be on Review" from my desk. I just sit here quietly and gnash my teeth. I've logged more time here than some summers do, am well liked by everyone, and have a solid track record in all sorts of fields of expertise. I'm a go-to person for a lot of people. You would think that would account for something. I guess I should just be happy I'm working at all and set my sights lower. In the meantime, I'll keep Marketing running like a well-oiled machine with a very neat desk.
I wouldn't call myself a cutting edge blogger. Far from it. Never been linked on Bashman, made Law School Roundup a few times, but it's be three pretty basic years here at Blogger. Who knew there were all these settings now? Who knew I could have real live titles? I really need to catch up with this newfangled technology. I feel like such a luddite.
Since I've graduated from law school, anyone that I meet asks the inevitable question, "So what sort of law are going to go into?" It's like when you're a little kid and you're asked, "So what are you going to be when you grow up?" Back then you could be cute or strange and say, "I want to be an archeologist!" (Actually used to say that.) Nowadays, I try to be thoughtful and give a real answer. I was once traumatized on a practice interview by giving the following answer: "I'd like to be a business or corporate lawyer." To which the follow up questions were, "Did you take Tax/Bankruptcy/Securities? So I'm always hesistant to answer the question now.
Going into law school, I had given serious thought to Labor and Employment law. I got a taste of it as a paralegal, and took courses to that end. I wrote my senior writing requirement on the Pregnancy Discrimination Act. However, it doesn't mean I'm wedded to the idea of being a labor or employment attorney. I really liked Business Law. I enjoyed Products Liability. I did a stint as an intern at a corporation. I didn't take Tax. I didn't take Bankruptcy. Does this means I shouldn't answer Business or Corporate lawyer? And being fresh out of school, I don't want to shoehorn myself into limited job opportunities. If someone needs a real estate attorney, I could do that. I enjoyed Trusts and Estates...I could do that. Not so much on the crim pro/crim law stuff though...not really my bag. So how do I answer this question? I really should know by now, but I don't. And as a result I feel like a total moron.
It dawned on me at about the 14th hole today that I have to go to work tomorrow. And I didn't even cry or nothing. Must mean I don't mind my job after all. I shot a 107 after all the topped balls and divot-ness. I think it's the lowest I've shot so far...not counting the executive courses. I even got my first real live par 4 par. Woo...do a little dance. I guess I won't be joining the pro tour any time soon. That's why I've got to get a real live attorney job, so I can play those fundraiser foursome scrambles. As a marketing assistant the invites pass my desk everyday. I just want to play one for fun, but don't have that extra cash to throw around. I want to meet and mingle. In the meantime, I'll keep hunting in the woods for the extra balls no one wants to find. It makes me happy.
Now with all this time on my hands, I find myself quite contemplative about the future. I'm over a year out of law school now, and where am I? I have a temp job, still haven't passed the stupid bar exam, and am losing whatever legal skills I had, though maintaining my kick ass typing ones. I can now play golf. I drink more wine. My house still needs cleaning. I now pay my student loans.
But really, it's all terribly depressing. I have no prospects. It's hard to be cheerful and perky every day. And where I'm working now wouldn't hire me as an attorney if I were the last one on the planet. And it's not that I don't have a good work ethic. I'm well liked here. It's just my stupid transcript. Makes me want to bang my head against the monitor repeatedly. And the worst part? People won't hire me as a paralegal because they see me leaving as soon as I get my bar results. Because you know, for me the bar is such a foregone conclusion. *cough cough*
Anyway, before I am forced to go get a donut to drown my sorrows, I'll stop writing this drivel. Hope I haven't scared off my newly found readers...I actually set a record for me this week in new readership. Keep reading, and I'll try to get out of this funk.
And I thought yesterday was hot...damn. Just went outside to get a salad, and in the 10 minutes I was out there, my legs cramped up like I had run a 5K, and my plastic fork got all bendy.
I had planned on blogging about the fight I got into this morning with the 78 year old woman in the McDonald's drive thru, but if I dwell on it, I just get upset, so I won't regale you with the full detailed story. Suffice it to say, if you can't figure out what you want, can't pay at the window without actually shutting off and leaving your vehicle, do not use the drive thru or get upset with us who blow our horns at you when you can't seem to figure out what to do next. And honestly, should you even be driving in the first place? All I wanted was an Egg McMuffin on the way to work.
Anyway, try not to burst into flames, and stay hydrated. Me? I'm swearing off breakfast sandwiches from drive thrus for a while.
It's Tuesday, and do you know where your air conditioning is? Today is the day when the world melts. Of course I won't see it, since I have no windows, but come lunchtime I'm going outside to see it first hand. I just keep praying that the power holds out. I live in fear of power outages. Of course, it's not like an EMP and I won't be able to drive my car, but somewhere in the back of my illogical mind I think that somehow I'll be trapped wherever I am if the power goes out. Being in a multi-story office building adds to my fear. I'm a horribly phobic person, what can I say. Car washes, bridges, lack of electricity, ants, and needles. Yup, those are just the ones I think of off the top of my head. What sort of irrational fears do you have weighing you down?
Update: Holy crap is it hot out. I've been pretty chilly here in law land, and thought that perhaps like yesterday the warmth would feel slightly good. Instead it went something like this: walk through the door, gasp, realize there is no more oxygen, wonder what to do now. And could Dunkin Donuts have picked a better day to give away free iced coffee? I think not.
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