Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Check please

Spring has sprung: I returned from my vacation to find the trees on my block in beautiful bloom. This can mean only one thing: finals are here and it's too pretty out to study. But this time, it also means that graduation is just around the corner. Unlike many fellow students, I have not experienced a single sentimental feeling or a longing to have school continue to postpone the real world. Au contraire, I anticipate the real world with joy and relief. There are finals and that pesty bar exam to contend with, but there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Predominantly, I am eagerly anticipating the day when I no longer have to affiliate myself with my law school. There is little love lost between me and the faculty of my school, and even less between me and the administration. I won't be sorry to walk out of those doors for the last time in June. Of course, that won't be the end of our dealings, but I can tell you this: as long as I live and breathe, that school will not see a dime from me. They will have to pry my last pennies out of my cold, dead hands if they want to see their alumni participation from the class of 2006 reach 100%. I am perfectly content to make it my lifelong mission to withhold any money I may someday make from them. In fact, I will send them the cancelled checks I may send my undergraduate institution. And my high school. And my synagogue. And the 4H Club. My law school is for sure dead last on the list of people who will ever see a charitable donation with my name on it.

I look forward to the day a hapless student caller, trying to earn a little money from the Alumni Fund for, perhaps, spring break, telephones me at my home asking for a donation. I will be polite, but firm: no, thank you for calling, I'm afraid I'm not interested. They will press me, as they are trained to do. I will remain steadfast and issue the words student callers dread: Place a no-call order in my file. I may use the phrase "cold dead hands" for effect, so the student caller will write the word "PSYCHO!" in big letters, thus dissuading future callers from bothering me.

Maybe I am psycho, and maybe my bitterness will subside at such time as I become gainfully employed. But I must say that I doubt it. I'm twelve years out of junior high school (literally half a lifetime for me) and I'm in no rush to send them a fat check either. I do believe that one day I will be a successful lawyer. I also believe that the only person or entity who will be able to take any credit for that whatsoever is myself. Thus, I totally deserved the sweet sandals I bought myself while I was on vacation.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Bar Hop

Tonight I did something so terrible, so horrible, so totally against my will, something that shook me to the core. There is no turning back now, I cannot run and hide from my fate. This is the one thing that separates the men from the boys, the panic-stricken from the smug, and the unemployed slacker who lives on loans from the salaried adult. That's right. I have officially registered to take the July 2006 New York Bar Exam.

It's too late now, I can't decide that real estate would have been a better career for me, given my stunning good looks and ability to talk people into doing whatever I want. I can't just throw in the towel and work at Banana Republic (even though assistant managers at Banana make approximately the same annual salary as beginning assistant district attorneys). I am going to take The Bar, and I am going to become A Lawyer.

As if it weren't enough that I have to pay over $2,000 for BarBri, another few hundred for PMBR, and living expenses during the bar, of course I also have to pay $250 for the mere privilege of taking the exam itself. That's law for you: just when you think you're done paying, there's always another check to write to put you back in your place. The Bar Exam: $4,000. Becoming a Part of the Unhappiest Profession Out There: Priceless.

But I have made an important decision: I will NOT be taking the New Jersey Bar Exam. A number of equally unemployed friends of mine have decided to "broaden their horizons" by taking it, believing that it will make them more marketable. I say, if my horizon ever includes New Jersey, shoot me. I don't want to live there. I don't want to work there. I don't even want to see it out my window. If my career office is right and I should broaden the scope of my search to a state with fewer lawyers (like, say, Iowa - because they really did suggest that to someone I know), I'm moving to Puerto Rico or someplace with a nice climate. Tengo bail bonds!

Plus, those bastards across the river know that they are the bar of last resort, so they raise their registration fee by $75 every few weeks, just to capitalize on the rising panic of the jobless. None of those people will end up working in Jersey anyway, but it needs to exact its revenge somehow. Who better to kick than those who are already down?

This little blogger is going away for Passover, so have a great one. I shall return tanner, more optimistic, and entirely unprepared for finals. Hasta la vista!

Monday, April 03, 2006

Sometimes the snow comes down in June.

Sometimes the sun goes round the moon. Sometimes the most annoying girl in your class wins $375,000 on a game show on national television.

No, seriously. Tonight, I watched with my mouth open as a girl whose mere voice used to make me run for the hills suddenly became Good Television. What is there to possibly say about that? The only other time I've felt this way was upon finding out that the biggest slacker in my section made law review, courtesy of extended time testing and someone else's outlines. It's like the proverbial slap when you expect a kiss. It should be the time for glory, the time for acknowledgment, and then not only do you not get what you want, the least deserving out there gets it.

Okay, so this isn't half as bad as that. But it was still pretty hard to watch the same girl who reputedly traded last year's valedictorian cartons of cigarettes for her first year outlines score almost $400,000 without having earned a penny of it. The same girl who sat in the front row and audiotaped our professors' lectures (I can only imagine how much fun it would be to listen to one of those tapes now and relive the glory days of first year. It must be almost as much fun as eating one's own eyeballs).

The thing is, she was sort of cute on the show, and I understood why the audience sympathized with her. She kept harping on how much debt she has from law school, and her whole big family was there with her, and all those same quirks that made me want to kill her first year actually played quite well on TV. I can only wonder how annoying, say, David Schwimmer might have been had he been in my civ pro class.
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