Life as a Law Student

We have a huge problem here at Texas Tech with mass e-mails sent out from one student to the rest of us . . .

declaring his sale on used Income Tax casebooks.

or a great deal on a barbeque grill.

or someone lost an earing in the forum.

or a roommate is urgently needed to help with the bills.

And we take them all in stride: glancing quickly through them and sending them to the "deleted" folder where they will stay until our mailbox "exceeds its limits" and we then find we have to delete the already deleted e-mails from the "deleted" folder. (From there, I'm not sure where they go.)

But in all the mass e-mails I've sorted through over the past couple of weeks-- I must have missed the one about playing the practical joke on Mr. Misery.

First there is the strep throat,

Then there is the computer crash,

Then I get a job.

"But wait," you are thinking, "what is so bad about you getting a job?"

Hmmph. One would think, right?

Friday morning I spoke to a large firm I interviewed with back in February and was rejected by due largely to the fact that I was a menial 1L.

Their "hiring needs" had changed and they would need to hire one more clerk and, lo and behold, I was at the top of the food chain this time. So I said that, yes, I was interested. And, yes, I want the job.

She told me when I start and when the position ends and we talked about what else might be required of me.

I then told her that, as I had not been gainfully employed before this moment, I had enrolled for a couple of summer school classes. I asked if that would be a problem.

She seemed to think it would not be. She said they routinely work around summer school schedule for their summer clerks.

I, however, having become a bit of a cynic over the past year of Law School, asked if she would check and make sure and call me back a.s.a.p. I just wanted a little assurance.

She said, again, she didn't think it would be a problem but that she would call back and we ended the phone call.

Friday went by. No phone call.

Then, the dreaded weekend-- where I would have to wait.

Monday morning arrives and I still get no phone call. So about noon I call to inform them that I actually will only need 1.5 hours off for school and only Tuesday-Friday so it really shouldn't be that much of an interference. Right?

She gets on the phone. And I get this:

Uh, Mr. Misery, Uh, I spoke with Mr. Law-Firm-Hiring-Partner and he, uh, says that he was, uh, really wanting someone who could, uh, work more hours. But, don’t worry, because we’ll make sure and keep you on the list.

To this I can only reply by giving her my very accommodating summer school schedule and she promises she'll pass it along.

Two hours later, she actually calls me back . . . but only to tell me this:

Uh, Mr. Misery, Its (Insert any annonymous law secretary's name here) with Mr. Law-Firm-Hiring-Partner's office. Yeah, uh, I'm sorry to do this to you . . . but I passed along your schedule. The thing is, though, we actually already hired someone else Friday who was available to work full-time. But, again, don't worry. We'll keep you on the list!

"O, Don't worry about it," I want to say. "You can take my name off your precious list and forget about me entirely. I'd rather be used and humiliated by someone who at least has the decency to call me the next morning. Flowers would be nice-- yes-- but-- c'mon-- a phone call is essential. Even though I acknowledge that I'm not-- well, y'know, you could at least make me feel-- special. I mean, that's not what you were whispering into my ear on Friday. Is it? Don't you think I have standards?! What kind of a girl do you think I am?!? Take me off your list! And forget about me! I'm not interested in getting any drunken 3am phone calls two months from now where you whine to me how wrong you were and how you realize it now and how you are so sorry for the way you treated me . . . and, huh? Did I hear you right? Could I come over? WHAT?!?"

I do have standards. And I can wait for the Big Law Firms to come around and notice me.

They will wine me and dine me and send me colorfully-wrapped gift baskets full of brownies. O, won't that be grand! I can see it now . . .

And they won't start slapping me around and calling me names until after I have taken the vow, "till death do us part."

O, I have so much to look forward too!

In the meantime: I just told her, "Okay." And I left it at that.

But this blog entry has really put a smile on my face afterall. . .