I’ve been sort of skittish about writing too much about Law Firm recently, because of what happened at a meeting a few weeks ago. Someone from the summer committee was saying something about “if you have a problem, you can always find a member of the summer committee, because we’d really like to know if you’re unhappy so we can make it right.” And then another member of the summer committee said “or we could just read it on your blog,” and my heart dropped to my feet right there in the middle of the meeting while I tried to play it all cool and laugh with all the other non-blogging people while in my head my internal monologue was racing along: “he’s kidding, right? he must be kidding. What if he’s not kidding? My blog is anonymous, there’s no way they’d have found it, right? What if they did, I’m only sort of thinly veiled! Have I said anything bad? Is blogging a reason not to give someone a job offer? Oh my god I’m not going to get a job offer! John and I are going to have to give up the apartment!”

So I overreact sometimes. But I realize that it’s not that big a deal to mention law firm every once in a while, because (a) I really like the people at my law firm, and don’t really have any bad things to say other than the normal stuff about adjusting to a new kind of job (note to law firm, if you’re reading this: I love you crazy guys! Love!) and (b) the following is too good not to share, anonymity be damned:

We are going on a Segway tour. As a firm. All together. On little rolly machines with dorky helmets. I might die, partially from embarassment, but mostly because I am the world’s least coordinated person, and if there’s a way to fall off a Segway in front of a group of your potential future employers, I will find it.

John, who is reasonably good-spirited and generally doesn’t make fun of easy targets, makes an exception for Segway tours. He particularly loves summer in Chicago because it presents him with more opportunities to mock the Segway tour participants in all their slow-paced, locomote-by-leaning glory. I haven’t told him yet. I’m a little afraid I may not live this down for the rest of my life.