Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Triple putz

I can't help it; the Olympics are so fascinating to me. It's been a few years (um, I guess, necessarily 4) since I last watched them cause I don't much care for the summer Olympics. Now that I am a little older, and absolutely no wiser, I am struck by exactly how much older I am than everybody competing. I still recall being a little girl and making my parents videotape the ice skating that occurred past my bedtime so I could watch it the next afternoon. Anyone who told me the results prior to the viewing would be rewarded with a week-long silent treatment.

Most of all, I idolized these sprightly girls who could fly through the air in pretty clothes. Even in fifth grade, I probably towered over them, but they looked so glamorous to me. They had an interesting ageless quality: they were at once much much older than me, but also seemingly about my age because they were so small and cute.

Now, I watch the Sasha Cohens and Emily Hugheses of the world with the same eye my mom probably gave them back in 1992. They are so much younger than I am. They are younger than my younger sister. In some cases, I could have babysat them. And here they are, conquering the world, at the pinnacle of their sport, sometimes surmounting tragic circumstances (especially if they are Russian).

I always idolized them and wanted to achieve something too. I'm not sure how that logically led into law school, which maybe used to pass for an achievement 20 years ago. But maybe at least the Olympics will motivate me to go to the gym, at the very least.

But probably not. Somehow, there's something so perversely satisfying about watching Olympic athletes sweat while eating chips on the sofa and criticizing their Lutzes.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Every rose has its thorn

During the trial program I completed at school, I got by far the best praise I've ever gotten in all of law school. As many of my loyal readership may know, compliments are few and far between, and often phrased in the negative (if a professor said, "That's not a bad try," I would glow for two days first year). I should, thus, have known that when I was praised to the heavens by a practitioner/instructor, that he had a little something more in mind than either getting me a job or idly attempting to restore my self-confidence.

I was told that "I have what it takes," that "I'll never lose a case," and that "juries would love me." I was excited, thinking that he was telling the truth, and that he was going to arrange for my future trial law glory to shine on his agency. He suggested I visit the office and meet everyone, and so I did. I took notes on whom I met, their job functions, and we went to court and I did the same there. I didn't like it when he closed the door to his uncomfortably small office, and I didn't like it when he insisted that I get in his uncomfortably small car so he could drive me to a subway station a block away. I didn't like it when he told me that I should dress attractively, but not too attractively, for the jury, and I didn't like it when he brought up my looks as a factor for my future success as a lawyer. I didn't like it when he touched my hand a number of times and tried to get me to agree to dinner.

But I really, really didn't like it when he emailed me six times the following week and called me three times a day leaving further laudatory messages. "Anything I can do to help you get established would absolutely thrill me," he gushed. I did not return his calls, and the messages got even more frequent and insistent. "I can assure you an interview, if you still want it. Please do call me to let me know you are still interested. I need to know. Call me."

The worst part of this story is that it's the closest I've gotten to a job interview all year, and that I actually thought about humoring him for awhile. Not doing anythign inappropriate, of course, but playing the earnest granddaughter to his overbearing, overly enthusiastic grandfather. Except after awhile I got the feeling it wasn't such an innocent desire to help a young lawyer get started. And I may be desperate, but I totally refuse to believe that pandering to an old pervert is the only way that I can get a job.

And just for the record, I didn't even get the interview. Apparently, I was only worth as much as my willingness to look the other way.
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