Thursday, December 29, 2005

New Year's Pukin' Eve

It is December 28th - nay, December 29th - and I still have no idea what to do for New Year's Eve. My friends are split on this issue, much like the federal circuit courts as to the proper application and scope of the Rooker-Feldman doctrine. (Sorry.) Some, mainly those with paying jobs, are going the tried and true route: paying upwards of $200 for parties at hotels or posh bars, where they can drink cheap vodka all night long and have a plastic champagne glass full of Korbel at midnight, while hopefully making out with other similarly situated folks.

I would do this, but I have done it before (for less than $200, mind you), and I can tell you exactly what happens when I am placed in front of an open bar for five hours: I conclude my night by throwing up. I can throw up for $10 just as well as I can for $200. Armed with this knowledge, I have decided to forego the expensive route and end my New Year's praying to the porcelain goddess happy and smug in my thriftiness.

Other friends, such as this one, are trying to throw small house parties. I am amenable to house parties, particularly the kind that involve top shelf liquor placed freely on tables with buckets of ice and party cups, but I have a little feeling that this year, things will be a little different. The idea of sitting in R's apartment with her horrific, nightmarish friends makes me want to spend the night on my couch drinking out of a bottle of whiskey while cursing at Dick Clark, or whoever does that show now.

Suggestions? Let me know, cause I know there's gotta be an in-betweenish option out there that will permit me to blow chunks in style at the end of the night.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

B all that you can B

It's that time of year again: finals are over, I have logged some quality TV on the couch time, and my cats are slowly remembering who I am. Two things, however, are present to disrupt the relative peace: the never-ending job hunt and the agonizing wait for grades. I don't really know why I set so much store in my grades at this point, but coming from a long line of overachievers (interrupted, sadly, by a short line of total underachievers - such as my father), I can't help but check my grades six times a day until they are all present. Naturally, although I finished the required work for one class on November 9th, and my finals were both over a week ago, I have no grades posted. Law professors are likely the laziest subset of gunners out there. They work approximately two hours a day - if that - and spend the rest of their time farting around their offices, "writing articles." Oh, sure, there are exceptions, but for the most part, this must be the most highly-paid job if hours worked are divided into salary. It may represent a pay cut from Cravath, but I'd take a job that paid $95,000 a year or whatever and required me to work twelve hours a week.

This is all, of course, smoke and mirrors to hide the fact that when those lazy SOBs finally get it together and assign some grades to the drivel people handed in, I will have "the usual, please": one B after another. Bzzzzz. I'm allergic to Bs and yet they won't stop coming. I can study for three months for an exam, amending the outline after each and every class, retaining material like a sponge, engaging in intellectual discourse with my compatriots on a weekly basis, and emerge with an encyclopedic knowledge of the subject in question (See, e.g., First Year Contracts). Alternatively, I can keep the textbook's binding in its original condition, commence studying the day before the exam, and quote directly out of Emanuel's.


And more Bs.


Thursday, December 22, 2005

Lazy Thursday

The semester has finally concluded. In my vacation-induced ADD, rather than trying to come up with some kind of coherent theme to unify the events of the past week or two, I will instead list them in no particular order.

- I called this attorney from my old firm (you know, the one that unceremoniously fake-fired me right before the holidays) and notified him that I would no longer be gracing the firm with my presence. I had a feeling he was not privy to management decisions, despite having a better career than any of those fuckwads who make decisions around there, and I was right. He was very nice to me while I was there, offering to send my resume around and once had even offered to take me to dinner to talk about "my career." We had had to cancel, but I hoped to reschedule and have him help me get a job. "Aww," he said, "I will miss seeing you around here." "Thank you," I said. "Would you still be interested in getting dinner sometime?" "Well," he replied, "what's this I hear about you having a boyfriend? You know, I was asking you out on a date." Oh. My bad! How stupid of me to assume that he was going to help me, in my vulnerable position, get a job without strings attached! Well, so much for that. And now I have Reason # 93849384398 not to go back to that office ever again.

- I had finals this week and one of them was for a two-credit ethics class. Predictably, the class itself was a nightmare, but less predictably, the exam was the worst one I have ever, EVER taken. Five questions in four hours, with one of them being a 4-page fact pattern with ten subquestions. All this for two credits??? But now, exams are over and I have that battered-woman syndrome, walking around dazed and somewhat bruised. (Literally. The hand I wrote those exams with may never be the same again.)

- To update on last post, not only have certain area law schools postponed the exams affected by the transit strike until the make-up day, but I just learned that others have postponed them until JANUARY. Thanks, guys - pushing the exam I had to take on Tuesday back from 8:45 until 10 really made the difference!

- Last night, I was at a bar with my boyfriend and B, a friend of his from school. She is working at one of the MEGAFIRMS, one of the only ones I had even heard of before law school. She makes a ton of money, and her hours are even better than my boyfriend's. While he was away closing his tab, she looked at me and said, "Working sucks. Really. I wish I could just marry a rich man and have babies." "Me too!" I replied. "I should dump his ass and find one of those ASAP." "He'll do fine," she replied. "No need to do that." "Yeah, he'll be fine in ten years. But I want to do this next year instead of working!" We shared a little giggle, until I think we both realized that neither of us was really kidding. So it looks like life on the other side, where B lives, replete with fat paychecks, unfettered trips to Banana Republic without worrying about whether the item you are buying is a) on sale, and b) going to mean you have to stop eating, and cars home at the end of a long day instead of the subway (if the fuckin subway is EVEN RUNNING) - just doesn't make the difference. Thanks feminism, really glad that the option of staying home at my age has been taken from me without due process.

- Watch this, please.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Impermissible accommodations

Faced with a transit strike during exams, my school offered up help and accommodation in its usual measure: none at all.

The transit union has voted to authorize a transit strike if an agreement is not reach by the deadline on Thursday night. As mentioned in my email of last week, exams will have to be held at the times previously scheduled, regardless of whether or not a strike actually happens, so please do not wait to make alternate arrangments.

In order to help students make arrangments with other students for a place to stay or for carpooling, we have set up a discussion group for all students on the [school] website. If you will be driving to school and can offer another student a ride (in the past, carpools into the city have necessitated at least 3 people), or if you can offer someone a place to sleep, please post a message. If you need a ride or a place to sleep, you can also post an inquiry.

Other area law schools are cancelling Friday's exams. But why would my school do that? Why offer us a meager amount of aid in a time of great stress? Exams already stressful, and the idea of having to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge with my binder and textbook to get to a pre-9 A.M. exam makes me want to curl up in bed and cry. Rather than reschedule them for later in the day, or let us know that in the event of a strike, they will make some other type of plan, they are letting us know up front that our well-being is about as important to them as whether or not we get jobs. (In fact less, since there is no statistic for how happy we are and how much we feel like the school cares about us.) Couches and carpools . . . now THAT's a contingency plan!

Sunday, December 11, 2005

The devil will make work for idle paws to do

I look like the very model of studiousness, don't I? From the cute little computer to the empty Snapple container, and the empty soy milk container, and the papers...

Until you look a little closer. Sigh. Yup, I am the worst student ever.

At least he's getting some work done.

Friday, December 09, 2005

I can't quit, because you fired me

Today I thought long and hard about the horrors of going to my job for a whole week and a half after having been effectively let go. It just seemed totally unfair and wrong, sort of like that quintessential Manhattan problem: a couple having to continue living together after breaking up because one of them can't find another apartment or afford to leave. I'll be damned if I am the jilted one hanging around the apartment crying about how things should have been. So I decided that, for once in my life, my academics should take precedence and I QUIT. Well, sort of, since they had already fired me. Semantics aside, today was my last day at the firm that treated me like something they had stepped in.

Now it's just a matter of wrapping my tired and bored little brain around my finals. When my entire life is in a shambles, it seems somewhat banal to have to learn the ins and outs of professional responsibility. Round 5, here I come!

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Merry Christmas to some, and to some a good night

Last week, I thought my firm had hit rock bottom. The sweet associate in charge of interns, always the fall guy for the, shall we say, flawed firm management, broke some news to me by accident last week. She blushed and stammered out the fact that interns are not invited to the firm's annual holiday party. It was insulting, but not entirely unexpected since I know that they are one of the cheapest firms in the industry. I thought, though, that they couldn't possibly insult me further so I laughed it off and inwardly complimented my thick skin. Fast forward to yesterday when I was delivered the final punch.

I went to the associate's office to discuss my schedule for next semester. She blushed, always a bad sign, and mentioned that the managing partner had...uh...totally restructured the intern program. Uh oh. In fact, by restructured, she meant totally eliminated the paying interns. And thus, me. Eliminated.

I made her promise me twice that it wasn't related to anything I had done. But I still have to wonder. Did I keep to myself too much? Did I screw up a memo? I do know one thing. This firm is full of fucking liars and I will never know exactly what motivated them. They cannot keep their stories straight about anything. This is the firm that tells all interns that they do not hire out of law school, yet mysteriously hired someone from a top ten school just this year. This is the firm that promised me that if I didn't screw up, they would help me get placed elsewhere, but offers no help beyond "sure, bring in a list of firms and I'll tell you what I think." Thanks. This is the firm that doesn't invite interns to their holiday party. So it shouldn't be so surprising that this firm will see nothing wrong with essentially laying me off during the holiday season when it's too late for me to find another job for next year. And if I had my guess, their budget doesn't have a damn thing to do with it.
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