Letting Go

A few weeks ago, I was catching up with “Howard” (the colleague I interviewed in episodes 3 and 4 of my podcast) After chatting about what’s new in both of our lives, the conversation inevitably turned to the subject that has bonded the two of us ever since we met at the bus stop on that first day of 1L year: the practice of law.  

We both have strong feelings about it. 

Back in law school, Howard was the smart one

"So You Think You Can Tell"

What label describes you?

One thing that I still struggle with since leaving the law is the concept of identity. The main reason I went to law school to begin with was I didn’t know myself very well, which meant I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. I’d always loved writing, but I didn’t think I could ever make money at that, so instead I listened to all the people I heard chattering in my political science and philosophy courses, and the professors who taught them. “Go to law school,” they all said. Or at least that’s what I heard.

During my last year of undergrad, everyone seemed to be taking the LSAT, so

I'm Still Here

The big picture

Wow, it’s truly depressing seeing my blog comments overrun by spam. Especially such bad spam. How is it possible that sex toys are out and psychics are in? I’ll never understand people.

Anyway, I don’t intend to abandon it. It’s just that my life has taken some interesting turns since we paid off our debt (including my massivelaw school loan). For one thing, we finally saved up enough for a down payment on a house (which means we’re officially on baby steps 4,5, and 6 of the Dave Ramsey plan) and bought one this past summer. Then I started taking some writing courses at night and trying to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life now that my law career/nightmare is over. I’m still working in a somewhat unchallenging position, but I got a big raise last year so for now it’s working for me. 

One of the most satisfying things that happened in this last year is

"I'm Ten Times Richer Than My Big Brother Bob"

Ever since I quit my law job three years ago, I have noticed a disturbing trend.  People seem to have more respect for unemployed JD’s who are looking for attorney gigs than for gainfully employed JD’s who work in non-legal positions.  I’m not sure why.  Growing up, I got the impression that becoming a “productive member of society” included bringing home a paycheck and paying taxes.   

These days, though, people are preoccupied with labels and appearances.  A few weeks ago, I was at a birthday dinner for an older lawyer.  He got a little tipsy and asked me, “Do you ever wonder what a brilliant attorney you might be today if you just stuck with it?”  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the more appropriate question was how much happier I’d be today had I quit sooner, or never went to law school to begin with.  The point is, this man didn’t care what I was doing with my life; he was only concerned with what I wasn’t doing – practicing law.  He couldn’t get over the fact that I gave up the "prestigious" title of Attorney.  In his mind, the title should be worth it, no matter how much I hated practicing law with every fiber of my being.  (His line of thinking betrays a deeper insecurity of many attorneys: Why don’t you want to be like me?)

Podcast Episode 4: "Money, Get Away"

I know the feeling, man...

Apologies for my absence!  I'm still alive and kickin', and I offer you the final installment of my interview with Howard.  Enjoy.  Also, I talk about what I've been up to the past few weeks (saving money, finding holes in my shoes, etc.), and another encounter I had with a 0L [sigh...].

The Long and Winding Road

Our dog, on a post payoff walk

I haven’t updated on my job situation in a while, so I thought I’d put together a little timeline of events, from when I first got out of law to our recent debt freedom.  It’s kind of fun to look back at how far we've come.

Mid 2009:  Gee, this law thing really sucks.  I should find another job.  Shouldn’t take too long since I have a JD, which is truly a versatile degree (it must be true – they told me that at law school orientation)!  (Good grief, I was so naïve. I wish I could go back in time and punch myself in the head.)

January 2010:  As a backup plan, I applied to a healthcare program at my local community college a few months prior and was accepted.  I had to complete some prerequisites, though, so I began taking a chemistry course at night.  

March 2010:  Shit, no one wants me because of my JD.  I’m too ‘overqualified’ apparently.  Or maybe they think I’m nuts for leaving such a ‘lucrative’ and ‘prestigious’ field?  If they only knew how not lucrative it is.  I don’t make much more than someone with a BBA, but I have twice the student loan debt.  And there isn’t anything prestigious about answering discovery in a slip and fall case, or arguing a sentence for a DUI when the statutory guidelines dictate the outcome.  Maybe it’s time to take up drinking to get through it.  A lot of attorneys do that, don’t they?

Lawyers and Anxiety, Part 3: The Sunday Night Blues

Photo courtesy of stockfreeimages.com

I remember when I was practicing law, Sunday nights were the hardest.  Thinking about the coming work week would bring on my anxiety with a vengeance.  It would start working its way through my neck muscles right around the time Mad Men started.  I’d often get headaches from it.  I would also feel particularly glum and hopeless on Sunday nights.  

I didn’t realize that the Sunday Night Blues is a recognized psychological condition, but apparently it is.  Here’s a nice article with tips on beating the symptoms.

I like some of the author’s suggestions (podcasts and bubble baths seem to work wonders for me).  But I think Andrew Weil hits the nail on the head by emphasizing that if you cannot overcome the sadness you feel on Sunday nights, you might need to reevaluate what you are doing with your career and find work that’s better suited to your values.  Wise words indeed. 

Lawyers and Anxiety, Part 2: Let’s Talk About Sex

*** Warning:  This post contains some adult content. ***

Photo courtesy of stockfreeimages.com

I met my husband almost nine years ago, before law school (and well before law school debt).  At the beginning of our relationship, I was at the tail end of my college career and didn’t really have a care in the world. 

Sex was easy.  Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights were spent out at the bars with friends, and then we’d stumble home after post-bar time pizza or burgers (“hangover sponges” as we called them).  Even drunk and full of greasy, toxic waste, we’d still find a way to get it on.  I recall one time, after an all day pub crawl, I was freezing cold when my then-boyfriend (now husband) and I got home, so I jumped into the shower with my clothes on.  The water warmed me up and – possibly feeling inspired by a foreign film I’d recently seen at the independent cinema near campus (was it the bathtub scene in The Dreamers?) – I jumped into bed, wet clothes still on, and we proceeded to have one of the hottest sexual encounters I can remember.  I recall different positions, scattered bottles of lube, and waking up wearing his tee-shirt and my high heels from the night before.   

Forgetting Travis Bickle

I'm in New York this weekend and I've been thinking a lot about fear.  I am staying in Manhattan, but I rented a car since I have an event to attend in New Jersey.  When I told people I planned on driving in the city, a couple of them freaked out.  They seemed afraid that I would get into an accident or not be able to find parking.  Or worse yet, I'd have to park in a garage and pay about $50 a night.  In their eyes, renting a car would render me lost, dead, and/or penniless, in no particular order.

But as it turns out, my drive into Manhattan from New Jersey was fairly uneventful.  I got to drive over the George Washington Bridge, and I only got honked at by one person (a cab driver who thought I should have run over a pedestrian rather than yield).  And I found free parking right in front of my friend's apartment building, where I'm staying.

Today, as I wandered the city, I wondered why I didn't listen to the fearful voices that told me to just take cabs everywhere (which would have cost me a lot more money). 

The Pizza Diaries, Part 7: The Invisible Woman

No one really notices pizza delivery drivers.  There’s no reason to, I suppose.  During my time as a driver, deliveries were a cold affair.  I knocked on a door, a customer answered, and without so much as a “hi there,” handed me money and took the pizza.  Only the occasional customer penetrated my shell of invisibility.    

I remember one in particular.  He lived in a small bungalow shaded by olive trees and a few oaks.  I delivered to his house several times, and his German Shepherd always greeted me at the door.  I think he liked me because I was never afraid of his dog.  I have a Labrador of my own, and I can spot the difference between friendly, excited energy and lethal hostility.  Taz just wanted to be the first one to sniff the garlic and mozzarella.   

Maybe Jumping into a Volcano Would Help

When I practiced law, I often fantasized about how I would quit my job. I found it comforting to live vicariously through movie characters, particularly when I felt like I was doing a life sentence in the bowels of hell, aka a small-to-midsize firm. Watching this scene from Joe Versus the Volcano helped quite a bit.  In a nutshell, Joe finds out he’s dying from an obscure disease (a “brain cloud”) and realizes he’s wasted his entire life up to that point. His boss ends up on the business end of Joe’s newfound self-awareness.

If you’re having one of those weeks, I highly recommend watching this. It might make you laugh just enough to get you through a hard time at work. It might even motivate you to polish off your resume and see what else is out there. Enjoy!

Lawyers and Anxiety

I was talking with a lawyer friend of mine the other night who wanted some dating advice from me.  A woman on a dating site had messaged him asking my friend to tell her more about himself.  He called me in a panic.

“So tell her about yourself.  What’s the big deal?”

“Well, everything there is to know about me is in my profile.”

“Come on, I’ve seen your profile.  All it says is that you’re a lawyer and you like to watch sports.”

“Yeah, I know, what else is there to tell?”

“Well, what do you think about all day?  What new things do you want to try?  What do you think the meaning of life is?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Haven’t you ever read a book that’s completely out of the realm of what you would normally read?  Or listened to some world radio station at random just to see if you like it?”

“Why would I do that?”


I didn’t know how to respond.  On the one hand, I understood where he was coming from because I used to be him.  When I practiced law, I stopped reading books for pleasure altogether.  And as for music, the only kind I liked to listen to was anything that could put me to sleep at night the fastest.  (I had a hard time sleeping back then.) 

And on the other hand, I knew he needed a kick in the ass.  His lack of engagement with his own life is a classic sign of lawyer malaise/burnout.  So I told him I was going to send him an assignment.  I would send him a list of activities he could perform that might bring him enjoyment and teach him a little bit about himself. 

As I wrote the list, I started thinking more about my previous life as an attorney.  The tone in my friend’s voice revealed some universal truths about being a lawyer.  Lawyers are anxious about virtually every transaction that occurs in their lives (hence, my friend’s panic about the woman who messaged him) and lawyers tend to not cultivate their own personalities and lives since they are often so busy sorting out messes others have made with theirs.  This lack of engagement with one’s own life inevitably leads to more anxiety.  I’ll give you some examples from my own experience. 

When I practiced law, I remember procrastinating all the time.  I would put off writing a brief until the last minute because most of the time, the assignment was just so achingly boring that I had a hard time accepting the fact that I actually had to complete it.  A heavy cloud of deadlines constantly loomed over my head as a result, and a large knot took up residence in my stomach.  

I also had a hard time making decisions.  I would get a settlement offer from a prosecutor or from opposing counsel in a civil case, and my mind would run through every possible scenario for how things could turn out based on how I advised my client to proceed.  It paralyzed me because I could not stop running through these scenarios, even after my client made a decision and the matter was settled.  Settlement only provided more scenarios that involved claims of malpractice or regrets about not pushing the client’s luck at trial and possibly getting a better result.

Since I operated inside of an anxiety-ridden world at work, these same anxieties spilled over into my personal life, specifically finances.  I would pay my bills on time, but I had no plan for saving, for paying off my husband’s and my enormous student loan debt, or for saving up an emergency fund that would cover a few months of expenses in the event of an emergency. If I got a bonus at work or we ended up with more money than expected at the end of the month, we used the windfall to pay off our credit card balance, or some other expense would pop up seemingly out of nowhere.    

I got so used to consoling myself with new clothes, magazines, dinners out, even a new car.  I rationalized this behavior with the belief that if I could not enjoy what I did for most of my days, I would at least look good and be well entertained after hours.  I never wanted to budget because the thought of taking stock of my debt would only accentuate the fact that there was no way out of practicing law for the foreseeable future.  Not with student loan payments, car payments, and credit card payments to think about.

And then an amazing thing happened after I quit law.  Not right away, but soon afterward, I found myself feeling a bit more hopeful about my future.  At the end of the workday, I had time to think about what I wanted out of life and to make a plan for how to get there.  In my lawyering days, all I thought about after work was heading for the wine bottle when I walked in the door, or dreading the next morning when I would have to wake up and repeat the same miserable day over and over again.

I wonder to this day if there is a way I could have happily practiced law.  I don’t think there is.  I think if I had continued on the path I was going down, I would have become more and more disengaged with my own existence.  Maybe to the point where I would panic when someone asked me about myself because, like my friend who was emailed by a potential date the other night, I had nothing to say. 

These days, I still suffer from anxiety, but of a different variety.  Now I have many goals I would like to achieve and not enough time to reach them all.  Most of them have nothing to do with work.  I am reading again and enjoying music.  I don’t waste money anymore trying to console myself with material goods that are temporary and can never fill an emotional void.  I am finally dealing with my law school debt, a debt that will soon be a distant memory.  And I am confident that if someone asks me to talk about my life, I will actually have something to say.

Are you an anxiety-ridden attorney?  Do you find yourself disengaged with your life or do you think it's possible to find a good work-life balance while practicing law?

The Things You Only Read About

Ask Again Later by Davis, Jill A. [Paperback] (Google Affiliate Ad) 

Ask Again Later is Jill Davis' "chick lit" novel about a woman who suddenly quits her job as an attorney and goes to work for her father's law firm as a receptionist.  There are reasons for her drastic actions, which I won't spoil for you here.  The central themes of the book involve the main character's fear of commitment (to her relationship and to a career), and how unfinished business with our parents can sometimes keep us stuck in limbo.  

The book is entertaining in a fluffy, Cosmo's "Fearless Female of the Year" sort of way.  But I did have a little trouble with the main character's inability to take a simple phone message (it's as if the book would like us to think they only teach that in secretary school or something) and with the writing structure, which tends to be a bit pared down, even for chick lit.  But if you're up for reading about an attorney's brush with life on the other side, check it out. 

Inspiration

This is a terrific article by Phyllis Coletta.  She is a former attorney who quit the law in order to become a cowgirl.  It is truly inspiring and funny.  I would read it occasionally when I was still practicing law.  It gave me great comfort to know that people with her kind of courage and humor had been where I was and had successfully gotten out.  Thanks, Phyllis.  

What are some of the roadblocks keeping you from leaving the law?  What would you be doing if you no longer practiced?   

The Trap of Student Loan Debt, Part II: Do You Want to Get Out?

Many unhappy attorneys feel they cannot quit practicing law because of the enormous burden of student loan debt.  If you have been considering leaving the law for another field or to start your own business, paying off your student loans affords more opportunity to take risks (perhaps in the form of a lower-paying but more satisfying position), as well as the feeling of hope that comes from building a future, rather than paying for past mistakes.  

A little over a year ago, I found myself in the position of having left my attorney job for a lower-paying one, but still carrying a large student loan balance of over $100K (between my husband's loans and mine).  Since then, I have gained more control over my finances, and my husband and I have decided to take radical steps in order to pay off both of our student loans once and for all.  Before you begin your own journey out of student loan debt, you first need to ask yourself whether you really want out because getting out involves a great deal of sacrifice.  Let's talk a little bit about some obstacles that might be standing your way.

The Lawyer Lifestyle

When you graduate from law school and land your first attorney gig, one of the first things you will probably do is buy some new clothes.  I know I did.  I believe I spent about $800 in my first month as a new attorney on new suits, shoes, and blouses.  How sharp I must have looked while dying a thousand little deaths every time I logged onto westlaw and looked with dread at the number of cases I would have to read that day. 

Another expense many new attorneys take on is that of a car loan.  If only law schools offered a course like Personal Finance 101.  Perhaps I, along with many other would-be attorneys, would have learned the sheer stupidity of financing a depreciating asset.  Ah well.  I made this mistake, but not until I had practiced for almost three years.  Toward the end of my illustrious career, I financed a big, shiny new car in order to assuage some of my depression.  It worked for a little while, but once the new car smell wore off the leather, I was back to pouring myself glass after glass of alcohol when I arrived home in the evening. 

Some other attorneys from white shoe firms might even go out and join a country club or buy a boat, or some other such nonsense.  All I can say about the many trappings of the lawyer lifestyle is that if you want to leave the law for good, you first need to decide that you are not going to be a miserable workhorse the rest of your life. 

You Don't Understand the Difference Between "Want" and "Need"

Many Americans, lawyers and non-lawyers alike, equate their need for certain  luxury items with their need to breathe oxygen.  To name just a few examples:

• cable TV (guilty)
• smart phones (guilty)
• restaurant lunches
• gym memberships (guilty)
• new cars every three years
• a car for every member of the household over the age of 16
• Starbucks (guilty)
• "stuff" from Target (guilty)
• the latest gadgets for the kids
• vacations at Disneyland
• stainless steel appliances

This list is certainly not exhaustive, but you get the idea. 

If you want to get out of student loan debt so you can leave the law, or just to have some peace of mind, you need to evaluate your lifestyle and start labeling things as "wants" and "needs."  In no time, you will see that most of the things in our lives are really just wants.  One way to start evaluating is to focus on what Dave Ramsey calls "the four walls."  This would be food, shelter, utilities, and transportation.  Anything beyond that is not a need.  (Clothing fits in there, too, but most Americans have an abundance of it.) 

One of the first things my husband and I cut out when we decided to get out of debt is cable.  For the time being, we get by on Internet (which he needs for his job), netflix streaming, and hulu.  We used to pay over a hundred dollars per month on cable and now we pay about $40 (which is mainly Internet). 

Another expense we cut was transportation.  We used to have two cars, but when we moved, we cut back to just one.  This may not work for everyone, especially if you do not have reliable public transportation where you live.  But you certainly do not need two car payments, or even one car payment, in order to get to work and back.  What we did was sell my husband's car, which was almost paid off, and we used the proceeds toward our emergency fund (about five months of living expenses in the bank).  When we sold our house, we used those proceeds toward the emergency fund as well.

As for my car, we have been making extra payments on it for the last five months and I am proud to say we just sent in the last payment a few days ago.  It is actually "our" car now, and it is enough for us. 

You Justify Student Loan Debt Because of the Tax Break

While some borrowers are eligible for a tax break on their student loan payments, please do not justify hanging onto these loans simply for the tax break.  A few considerations:

• There are income limits on who can claim it.  (In 2010, the income limits were $60K for  individuals or $120K for couples before the credit was phased out.)
• You can only deduct a maximum of $2,500 no matter how much interest you paid on your loans.  (My husband and I paid over $5,000 in interest in 2010, so the tax break didn't help all that much.)
• Beginning 2013, you will only be able to deduct student loan interest for the first 60 months (5 years) of repayment.  Many people with advanced degrees are on 20-30 year plans (myself included).
• Student loans are generally not dischargeable in bankruptcy. 

The Bottom Line

If you want to put student loan debt behind you, you need to decide you are not going to keep up with the Joneses, you are going to cut back on luxuries, and you are not going to chase a soon-to-be-obsolete tax deduction.  Ready?  Stay tuned for my next entry on how to start budgeting and make extra cash to put toward those loans. 

   

You Are Not Alone

Whenever I begin to think I'm the only lawyer out there who's happier doing admin work, I am reminded that I am not a beautiful and unique snowflake.  In this edition of Dear Prudence, a woman who once practiced law and now works as a secretary, seeks advice from Prudie on how to respond to the snobby comments she receives from friends who look askance at her.    One thing I love about Prudie is that she is aware of how tough the legal job market is these days and acknowledges that a JD is not something to boast about on a resume.  You tell 'em, Prudie.  Scroll down to the second letter.  Oh, and be sure to read some of the comments below the column, which are often more entertaining than the column itself. 

A Woman Left Lonely

When one makes the decision to quit law, where does she turn for support and advice? What about JD’s who are having trouble finding legal work in an endless sea of newly-minted attorneys? Where do they turn? The question of where to find a support system for such a unique problem is one I still struggle with on a daily basis, even though it has been over a year since I left my law career.

Last year after I quit my job, I did not tell my dad right away. He was going through a health crisis and I didn’t want to upset him. About a week after I put in my notice, the time came for him to have surgery and I went to visit him in the hospital. He asked me how my job was going and I told him I had given notice because I found something better. I hinted that it wasn’t entirely legal related, but that I was happy about my decision and excited about new possibilities. Rather than asking for more details on my new job, he just got this disappointed look on his face and said, “well at least you have your degree.” And that was that. I could tell he felt let down that he could no longer pass my business card along to his friends and brag about his daughter, the attorney. I had never felt more guilty. And then I felt angry that he had the power to make me feel that way.

In the hospital waiting room, my step-brother told me that my husband had mentioned my new job. Was I still an attorney, he asked with a furrowed brow. Well, if he meant was I still barred and licensed to practice law if I wanted, then yes. I don’t think that’s the answer he was looking for.

To put a little perspective on things, I have to tell you that I do not come from a family of overachievers. No one in my immediate family ever attended college, much less any kind of graduate program. I was the one assigned to legitimize everyone by finishing law school and becoming a professional.

My family and I have had our differences. After high school, I was completely estranged from them for about five years. During that time, I moved in with some friends, worked my way through night school at the local community college, and was accepted into a university, which was paid for with grants and loans. By the time I reunited with my family, I was applying to law schools, which thrilled my father to no end. Still, I never felt that close with him or my sisters. It just felt strange to be around them after such a long separation. It is true that you can’t go home again.

Since the two brief conversations I had with my dad and step-brother in the hospital last year, I have not spoken with anyone about my career. My husband and I have since moved across the country and started a new life, so it has been quite simple to not talk about the end of my legal career. My family assumes I am studying for the Bar and will begin practicing once I am admitted. I know I need to have the conversation with them to let them know on no uncertain terms that I am no longer going to practice law professionally. I just haven’t had the courage to initiate the conversation yet since the last time I tried, I felt rejected, guilty, and ashamed.

I know there are many JD’s out there who have been assigned the same role I was, to make the family proud. How have you found support while trying to find legal employment in such a bleak market? Are there any attorneys out there who have chosen not to practice whose families have been supportive? I would love to hear from you, since Thanksgiving is just around the corner…

My Top 6

Below is a list of the most humiliating, ridiculous, and/or evil things I ever witnessed or took part in when practicing law, from least to most egregious.

6.  Perry Mason and the Case of the Felonious Air Freshener.  While interning at a county prosecutor’s office as a 2L, I attended a suppression hearing at which my assigned prosecutor/mentor argued that racial profiling was perfectly Constitutional, so long as the officer had a separate, valid, objective reason for pulling over a defendant.  (Which is unfortunately true by the way.)  In this case, the defendant, a young black man, had an air freshener hanging from his rear-view mirror, which “tended to obstruct” his view of the road, and therefore violated a statute.  The prosecutor won the hearing.  I told him I understood why he won, but I still believed it was unjust that an officer could selectively enforce a statute that millions of drivers violate every day.  He argued that the officer was not necessarily engaging in racial profiling.  I rhetorically asked him how many soccer moms the officer pulled over that week for hanging air fresheners from their rear-view mirrors.  My “mentor” then refused to speak to me for the rest of my summer internship.  I should have known then that I was not cut out to participate in a system that routinely defends absurdities.

5.  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  During my 2L and half of my 3L year, I clerked for a solo practitioner who was just about the moodiest, most inept attorney I had ever met.  He even warned me during the interview that he was moody.  Each morning I would greet him with a smile and a hello, but never once did he look at me or even grunt in my direction.  We communicated only in writing, though the office comprised only about 300 square feet.  Eventually, my pay checks started bouncing.  Then he asked me to lie to his wife about his whereabouts on a couple of occasions.  She could tell I was lying for him and he apparently caught hell for it.  He basically accused me of purposely lying badly in order to get him in trouble.  Then one day, he asked me to perform a google search for him on his computer, during which I inadvertently saw his search history.  Apparently he was into swingers clubs.  I pretended not to see anything since he was breathing down my neck the entire time. 

Eventually, I was able to put in my notice so I could relocate for the summer to complete a clerkship.  I tried not to think about what a nasty, weird person he was until I was forced to disclose on a job application that I had worked for him.  The prospective employer contacted him for a reference and he told them he would not hire me because—wait for it – I am “not a people person.”  I got the job anyway because I think the firm knew what a crazy kook that guy was.  As for his ineptness, apparently the local bar association caught on because a few months after starting my first job out of law school, he was publicly disciplined for lying to a judge during a sentencing hearing.  To top it all off, years later I received a friend request from him on facebook.  Ignore!

4.  Ebenezer Scrooge or Henry Potter?  My supervising attorney once asked me why everyone thought he “owed them a fuckin’ living.”  Apparently, his secretary had been fishing around for a bonus since she was coming up on her ten-year anniversary with the firm.  I told him perhaps she wanted to feel appreciated for being a loyal secretary.  He complained that she screwed things up a lot and she was not the one bringing in all the money.  He then turned to his computer to retrieve an electronic file and realized he had no idea where to find it because his secretary organized everything for him.  So he shouted for her to come in and find the file, all the while acting completely impatient about it.  After she left, I pointed out that he seems to need her help quite a bit.  He ignored me and asked me to sit in his chair and type an email he dictated because he was lousy at using Outlook.  He seemed to rely on his employees quite a bit, though in his mind he owed them nothing.

3.  Just Following Orders.  I once represented a client who had some developmental disabilities as well as a raging drug and alcohol habit.  His various ailments rendered him unable to recall events that occurred more than five minutes ago.  His neighbor was similarly disabled, and they hated each other. He had various cases pending, and he was really bothered by his neighbor, so my supervising attorney told me to get a restraining order against the neighbor.  I raised my concerns about the client’s memory problems and asked for any advice on how to handle direct examination.  “Wing it,” was the response I received.  I pressed the supervising attorney a little and asked if he had any other advice, and he responded, “I’m your boss.  Just do it.”  So I tried my best to prepare the client, although he could not actually recall any specific disputes with the neighbor.  A few days before the hearing, I became concerned about going through with the hearing since I did not believe I had a good faith basis for trying to get the restraining order.  (You know, pesky ethical rules we attorneys must consider from time to time).  I raised this concern with my supervising attorney and he spat, “I told you before, I’m your boss.  Just do it.”  So I did it.  Is it any wonder the judge declined to issue the order and instead told the two men to just stay away from each other?  My supervising attorney seemed happy with the hours I billed for undertaking this worthless endeavor, though, which is really all that matters.

2.  It Would Be So Much Easier to Catch Criminals If Only They Would Endanger More Lives.  During a drunk-driving negotiation with a prosecutor, I noted that my client’s driving was not that horrendous, in that he was only pulled over for speeding 5-10 miles per hour over the posted limit, a fairly common charge.  Normally, this would put a client in the “non-aggravated” category for drunk driving.  I argued that some drunk drivers actually swerve into the wrong lane or drive the wrong way down a one-way street, which is certainly more dangerous than minor speeding.  The prosecutor’s position: he would rather the client had swerved or driven in the wrong direction, because it’s much easier for the police to spot him as a drunk driver.  Oh-kaaayyyyyy...

1.  It’s a Good Thing He Didn’t Die or We Would’ve Had to Deal with a Damages Cap.  One of my firm’s civil clients was a boy who had been sexually assaulted.  My job was to perform research to determine the average settlement or jury award in similar cases.  One of the similar cases I found involved a teenage girl who was raped on a church camping trip.  My supervising attorney’s reaction?  “That’s just a teenage girl.  We could get a lot more money for this kid.” 

Does anyone else have horror stories they would like to share about the practice of law?

From Humility to Humiliation

So where were we? I had just been informed that my temporary admin assignment was going to end after only three short months. My job prospects were pretty slim considering I had just left the legal field and it had taken me months (almost a year?) to find a non-legal job. I felt alienated from everyone – my husband, family (I’ll get to that in another post), friends, former colleagues. Is there any worse feeling than being surrounded by loved ones and feeling totally alone? I even stopped answering my phone because I knew my friends would ask the basic catch-up questions about career, family, and upcoming vacations.

In the meantime, I was still going to work every day, with no real defined expiration date, but I knew I had to act fast. At that point, I simply needed to find a job –any job- that would provide a steady stream of income while I thought about my next move. After all, I still had student loans to pay. So I did something desperate. I applied for a job at a call center. A specific call center. It had always been in the back of my mind as an “in case of emergency” plan. Like the fire escape ladder tucked behind the shoe rack in my closet, I had hoped I would never have to use it.

Did I mention that when I practiced law, I primarily worked as a criminal defense attorney? This little tidbit weighed heavily on me when I decided to apply at “SIP, Inc.,” aka “Suicide is Painless, Incorporated.” You see, the reason I knew the place would probably hire me is because I used to send my clients to them when they needed to find jobs prior to sentencing. No one in their HR department had ever heard the term “background check,” much less performed one. While completing the online application, all I could think about was how I would respond if I ran into a former client. This had happened a couple of times in the past, but I always knew the attorney-client privilege obligated me to ignore them unless they acknowledged me first. I was guessing, however, that if a former client saw me working at the call center, they would probably have a couple questions for me. I decided that if I ever encountered this situation, I would simply lean in, lower my voice, and tell him I had switched to the journalism field and was doing undercover work for an exposé on the various indignities suffered by those who work for minimum wage. I sort of borrowed the concept from Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed, which I had been required to read in a college sociology course, back when I believed higher education would guarantee me a safe, journalistic detachment from the working poor.

The actual application process did not involve uploading a resume or references. All I had to do was list my former employers and contact numbers for them. Since I knew none of my former work places would be contacted, I did not hide the fact that I worked at a law firm. I just did not fill out the section that asked for position titles. Again, I knew no one would read the application; they basically interviewed and hired everyone because of so much turnover. I also disclosed my JD on the education section, knowing the person who read it probably did not know or care what a JD was. A few days after submitting my application, I was contacted by an HR representative who asked me to come in for an interview. This process consisted of taking basic reading and spelling tests, and being introduced to the call center equipment (a headset). If I could spell “sandwich” (the judges probably also would have accepted “sandwhich”) and wear the headset without asphyxiating myself, I was in. I almost cried when they offered me a position, mainly because of the indignity of it all, but somewhat because I knew I would be able to make my student loan payment and possibly even help with other monthly bills.

I also felt a certain sense of relief at having hit bottom. How could things get any worse?

As a side note, I feel like I should be describing the changes occurring in my marriage at this time, but since so much happened at once, that will most likely be my next post. I have come to realize that the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, so I am going to cover only one major change per post until I catch up to present day…

Things Fall Apart

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." 
- Marilyn Monroe

I always wonder if Marilyn was really that insightful or if her publicist wrote that quote for her.  I wish I could say getting laid off from my admin gig after only a few short months brought out my inner Marilyn, but that would be a lie.  In reality, it terrified and angered me.

I began temping at the end of April, beginning of May last year.  At first, I felt exhilerated.  Finally, I could breathe again and I had time to take care of myself.  I was exercising again.  I had lost five pounds and my skin was looking good.  I ate better, I slept better, I read books.  I was even picking up some valuable skills that I was certain would transfer well into my next career move, whatever that might be.  And then, it happened.

In mid July, my boss strolled over to my desk one morning and informed me that corporate was moving our office to a city about 350 miles away.  Only he, the CFO, and the senior admin ("Alex") would be kept on permanently.  Alex would be working from a remote office, while the two head honchos would physically relocate.  He mentioned the possibilty of me working remotely for a while after the move to foster a smooth transition.  I heard none of it, though.  All I could see was a huge "unemployed" sign flashing right before my eyes.

It just so happened that my husband called to ask me out to lunch that day.  He worked right down the street, so he picked me up at noon and asked me how my day was going.  I immediately began crying.  I think he could sense what had happened and when I told him about the move, he simply said, "I guess that's the life of a temp." 

Again, I wish I could have summoned my inner Marilyn in that moment.  Instead, my inner Britney materialized, and I found myself wanting to shave my head and beat my husband senseless with the nearest umbrella.  I did the only sensible thing I could think of and turned my hostility toward him.  How could he have let me quit my permanent job for a temporary one?  How could he be so casual about my career being in the toilet?  Why did I even bother telling him about anything when he never offered any support, only cold, hard facts?  After about half an hour of screaming in the car, we decided to go to lunch after all because the new burger restaurant we planned on going to supposedly had some pretty tasty grub.  I figured sweet potato fries could only improve my mood at that point.  And since I would be unemployed in a few short weeks anyway, who would care if I took a two hour lunch?

When I got back to work that afternoon, the office was empty except for Alex.  She had heard I got the news and informed me of how angry she was that they did not tell me during my interview that the company had been planning the move for a while. 

My anger turned into rage. During the interview, my boss had implied that the temporary position could become permanent in a few months.  I asked Alex why they didn't just hire someone else who was already unemployed and who would have been thankful for a few months of work.  Apparently, all of the other candidates either smelled like cigarette smoke or gave off the impression that they would be calling in sick just about every day.  I was the lucky chosen one. 

For the rest of the day, I sulked.  When I got home, I pouted.  And then I emailed my employment agent about the end of my assignment, who failed to email me back for the next two weeks.  During those two weeks, I convinced myself that she was in on the conspiracy to make me give up my legal career for a three-month pit stop on the way to Unemployed-ville. 

Little did I know that things were going to get just a little worse before they got better...