May 2006

The sublet disaster continues. She still has my $850, and she told me she’d have the dates nailed down “by the end of the week” three weeks ago. Now I’ve sent her another email asking about dates and she hasn’t replied. For three days.

Suggestions? (Unless, that is, your suggestion is that I kiss my $850 goodbye, because that might make me very very sad.)


…sweat through your blouse in 15 minutes because it is 91 freaking degrees outside
…train with an 18-year-old Harvard freshman who somehow manages to be more put together looking than you are.
…embarass yourself trying to use the unnecessarily complicated “coffee system.
…walk into your newly-issued office and discover that it is stocked chock full of office supplies, including a glue stick, an “envelope moistening wand”, white out (now available in legal pad yellow! who knew!), and brand-new, still in their packaging tape dispenser, stapler, and scissors. (The teacher in me nearly swooned.)
… go to a two-hour, three-course lunch, at the end of which the associate you ate with will say, with genuine pleased surprise, “hey! only $60 for lunch! not bad!”
…spend two solid hours being trained on the use of Outlook. (Who knew email was so complicated?)
…watch a video on sexual harassment, produced by the firm’s labor and employment attorneys, that makes you seriously reconsider your earlier request that you be given labor and employment work during the summer.
…learn that all summer associates are going to be attending next week’s Madonna concert in a luxury box, courtesy of the firm. Which is almost enough to make me reconsider working at a firm after graduation. Almost.

Start job at Law Firm tomorrow. I’ve been reading archives of Anonymous Lawyer to prep, which is fully terrifying.

Stories of two hour lunches, drunken happy hours, and screaming partners to follow.

Not much happening on the law/interesting developments fronts. Finished finals Wednesday, start work Tuesday, have been sleeping and running around outside a lot on my 5 days of summer vacation.

One funny tidbit, though. My Brother In Law, David, who is going to be a senior in college next year, is staying with us for the summer while he does an internship at a local social services agency. He works with kids, mostly recent African immigrants, teaching music. It’s a cool job.

But the coolest part has to be his two supervisors. Their names? Thalma and Luis.

I swear to god, you can’t make this shit up. I realized David really is much younger than I am when I cracked up when he told me their names and he didn’t get the reference.

Trying to shop for appropriate business casual clothing today, I was met again and again with that most horrific of clothing forms: the formal short.

Why? Why, Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, Benetton, New York & Company, and Ann Taylor Loft? Why have you decided to eschew the skirt, long acknolwedged to be a classic, in favor of something that makes everyone look stumpy and is not actually work appropriate anywhere? I expect this from Forever 21, or H&M, but when I can’t find a single basic black skirt, this formal short problem has gotten out of control.

So I am not built for take-home exams. Here, “take-home” means “go lock yourself in the library and turn this in in eight hours.” Sweet. I have an attention span that is approximately one hour long. I can stretch it to three hours during a time-pressured in-class exam, but an eight-hour take home? Not so much. I finished typing in four hours, seriously considered sending it in without proofreading it, thought better of it, went downstairs and shot the shit for an hour, listened to the Joe Purdy music I have on my computer twice, made a shopping list, read some blogs, and am now trying again to edit the damn thing but am blogging instead. I’d tell you about the actual exam, but that would be a problem because some people still have yet to take it and who KNOWS who’s reading this shit.

3 hours to go. Definitely going to turn it in in about 25 minutes. Can’t take this.

It is so not a coincidence that the FBI thinks they’ve finally found Jimmy Hoffa on the day when I am cramming my head full of labor law in preparation for Monday’s Labor and Employment exam.

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