Needless to say, I didn't win the scavenger hunt yesterday, shocking I know. Even more shocking? That prick Gordon didn't win either... Apparently he got boggled down with the sports memorabilia. That's what happens when you're bred at a tender young age to become a lawyer, you miss out on all the other greatness life has to offer. I see it all the time. And not just only in the legal field. Both friends in medical school and grad school see it too. I think much of this stems from parental pressure.
Both of my parents are still just relieved I graduated high school, set aside the fact that I am now in law school. They've worried about me. But they shouldn't have. It's the people that did extremely well in high school and college that I'd be worried about. At what price did they get those grades? Well I can tell you. Ask them what ingredients are in an Irish Car Bomb, or what was the hot spring break song of 2003, or even what it feels like to get thrown out of a bar. They couldn't answer. Sadly it's these people that get takin for a ride here at the firm. They're used as cannon fodder to fill the already fat wallets of the suits above them. It's a brilliant scheme.
So listen, I know full well that I'm getting paid to do a job and that I volunteered for this type of life. All I'm doing is what the partners are doing to the associates, taking their money for a ride. I'll never be one of those incredibly intelligent individuals. I'll always be one of those individuals who will print out several articles off of Maxim.com, hold a highlighter in one hand, and make it look like I'm doing "work" all morning. It's my demise.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Oven Defect
It came out today that Hasbro has recalled 1 million of those Easy Bake Ovens due to a defect that injured hundreds of children. The partners have been meddling with the hope of jump-starting a class action law suit. I've been meddling with the idea of telling everyone how I caught one of the other interns, Gordon, playing with an Easy Bake Oven down in the file room. Hopefully they'll ask him to test all of the defective Easy Bake Ovens. That'll keep him out of the office for a while. When he denies using an Easy Bake Oven I'll happily point out all the brownies I've cleverly planted around his workspace. On second thought, I think I'd rather sit in a warehouse and play with those oven's myself. It'll sure beat sitting here in the office and staring at the ceiling.
Sit this one out
So it's already an hour or so into the day and I already want to knock one of the other interns upside the head with an office chair. Maybe even one of those old fashioned heavy type-writers the secretaries use for mailing slips. Either way, I'm sure if I did any one of the partners would let me use their house in the Hamptons this weekend as a reward.
We got word this morning that later this afternoon a few of the partners will be organizing a competition for us interns. The prize? A weeks trip to Chicago with one of the partners to visit our satellite office and attend conferences. Typically I would grab at every chance to take a trip (trip = excused billable hours), but this particular trip involves going to Chicago with a partner from our Tax Division. If anybody knows anything about tax lawyers, they can be a little lacking on the side of conversation and overall social skills. Why would I want to spend a full week with somebody communicating with nothing but numbers, decimals, and the occasional stuttering sentence? No way, no how.
The competition? A scavenger hunt around the city. Gordon (who’s name is actually dorkier and more fitting), is the intern I want to smash in the head with a conference phone, and has made this scavanger hunt his life’s mission. Gordon competes with me every chance he gets. I don't compete. I don't care enough. I do just enough to keep people from bothering me and just enough to enjoy my summer. But in flying under the radar I've fucked up. Gordon and I are apparently neck-to-neck for the most intern-billed hours. Big mistake. I've entered so many bogus billable hours to cover up my slacking that I’ve apparently entered into the realm of "Super Intern." I’ve tried to cut down on the amount of hours I log, but it's apparently not enough. Gordon’s still out for blood and I’m still out to find a large enough object to have him tied to.
I have sat here at my desk this morning watching him pop in and out of every partner’s office trying to dig out hints and bother the ever living crap out of everybody. All the other interns, and myself, are just going about our business. I cannot stand a suck up, and Gordon embodies the term. Maybe a little sabotage is in order so that Gordon will get sent away to Chicago for the week. I’ll see how many of the other interns I can convince to conduct this little “scavenger hunt” down at one of the bars a few blocks down. And Chicago’s a little close; maybe I can convince one of the partners running the event to add a pro-bono trip to Cambodia or something. That sounds nice. Cambodia.
Either way, there's a Duane Reed across the street from the office. I'm sure I could get at least half the items for the scavanger hunt there. I might even pick up something nice for myself at the liquor store to celebrate Gordons possible infectious jungle desease.... Influenza? Yellow Fever? The possibilities are endless. I'm excited to see Gordon leave. I might actually do some work I'm so excited..... well, not that excited.
We got word this morning that later this afternoon a few of the partners will be organizing a competition for us interns. The prize? A weeks trip to Chicago with one of the partners to visit our satellite office and attend conferences. Typically I would grab at every chance to take a trip (trip = excused billable hours), but this particular trip involves going to Chicago with a partner from our Tax Division. If anybody knows anything about tax lawyers, they can be a little lacking on the side of conversation and overall social skills. Why would I want to spend a full week with somebody communicating with nothing but numbers, decimals, and the occasional stuttering sentence? No way, no how.
The competition? A scavenger hunt around the city. Gordon (who’s name is actually dorkier and more fitting), is the intern I want to smash in the head with a conference phone, and has made this scavanger hunt his life’s mission. Gordon competes with me every chance he gets. I don't compete. I don't care enough. I do just enough to keep people from bothering me and just enough to enjoy my summer. But in flying under the radar I've fucked up. Gordon and I are apparently neck-to-neck for the most intern-billed hours. Big mistake. I've entered so many bogus billable hours to cover up my slacking that I’ve apparently entered into the realm of "Super Intern." I’ve tried to cut down on the amount of hours I log, but it's apparently not enough. Gordon’s still out for blood and I’m still out to find a large enough object to have him tied to.
I have sat here at my desk this morning watching him pop in and out of every partner’s office trying to dig out hints and bother the ever living crap out of everybody. All the other interns, and myself, are just going about our business. I cannot stand a suck up, and Gordon embodies the term. Maybe a little sabotage is in order so that Gordon will get sent away to Chicago for the week. I’ll see how many of the other interns I can convince to conduct this little “scavenger hunt” down at one of the bars a few blocks down. And Chicago’s a little close; maybe I can convince one of the partners running the event to add a pro-bono trip to Cambodia or something. That sounds nice. Cambodia.
Either way, there's a Duane Reed across the street from the office. I'm sure I could get at least half the items for the scavanger hunt there. I might even pick up something nice for myself at the liquor store to celebrate Gordons possible infectious jungle desease.... Influenza? Yellow Fever? The possibilities are endless. I'm excited to see Gordon leave. I might actually do some work I'm so excited..... well, not that excited.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sell the Fake
You have to sell the fake. It's a sports term. It's when you want your opponent to think you're going one direction when you're really going the other. The only difference between selling the fake on the football field and in the firm, is that a charming smile won't keep a middle linebacker from breaking a few of your ribs.
I talked about how one of the partners handed me a project to work on this morning. It turns out one of our clients may be going to litigation which involves research and preparation in the event the partners cannot reach a settlement. My job is to actually conduct the research, do some mild analysis, and hand the finished product up to the partners so they can make informed decisions on the direction of the case (i.e. which prostitute they'll invite into the their Mercedes later that night). Much of the time this is an exercise in busy work. You learn in your first day of Civil Procedure that only 3% of all cases actually go to trial. To me, that means 97% of all the work I could "potentially" do will be thrown out. That being so, I've learned not to give a shit about many of the projects I get and pass them off to people that actually DO give a shit. Associates. Associates are hungry. Hungry for billable hours. If you have something for them to bill, they'll take it, even if that means not leaving the office until 11 o'clock that night. That's their problem. I leave at 6 everyday, happy hour waits for no one.
So today I handed the project off to this associate Joanne. Why Joanne? She's perfect. She's quiet, hard working, and very self conscious. What's even more perfect is that she's on the other side of the firm from John so they won't bump into each other. I had no problem selling the fake to her this morning. I told her that John had me working a transcript while he wanted her to research the case law. I also told her that when she completed the research to hand it over to me so that I can look for any "smoking guns" in the transcript.
I had covered all my basis. I gave her a reason why I wasn't working on the project myself, a reason why she needed to hand the finished memo to me, and a reason for me to take a 2 hour lunch....
I talked about how one of the partners handed me a project to work on this morning. It turns out one of our clients may be going to litigation which involves research and preparation in the event the partners cannot reach a settlement. My job is to actually conduct the research, do some mild analysis, and hand the finished product up to the partners so they can make informed decisions on the direction of the case (i.e. which prostitute they'll invite into the their Mercedes later that night). Much of the time this is an exercise in busy work. You learn in your first day of Civil Procedure that only 3% of all cases actually go to trial. To me, that means 97% of all the work I could "potentially" do will be thrown out. That being so, I've learned not to give a shit about many of the projects I get and pass them off to people that actually DO give a shit. Associates. Associates are hungry. Hungry for billable hours. If you have something for them to bill, they'll take it, even if that means not leaving the office until 11 o'clock that night. That's their problem. I leave at 6 everyday, happy hour waits for no one.
So today I handed the project off to this associate Joanne. Why Joanne? She's perfect. She's quiet, hard working, and very self conscious. What's even more perfect is that she's on the other side of the firm from John so they won't bump into each other. I had no problem selling the fake to her this morning. I told her that John had me working a transcript while he wanted her to research the case law. I also told her that when she completed the research to hand it over to me so that I can look for any "smoking guns" in the transcript.
I had covered all my basis. I gave her a reason why I wasn't working on the project myself, a reason why she needed to hand the finished memo to me, and a reason for me to take a 2 hour lunch....
I have nipples Greg... Can you milk me?
There's a standard array of coffee flavors available in those single serve pods. We all know them, well. Colombian Supremo (Supremo is misleading), Hazelnut (somewhat likable), French Vanilla (for those who pretend they're coffee drinkers, mostly single parents who seek every opportunity to be involved in a social encounter. Sadly, I have been caught in a few), and Vermont Country Blend Decaff (sounds and tastes incredible up until the point you pass-the-fuck out from a lack of caffeine).
Today, however, Wild Mountain Blueberry paid a special visit. I have never seen this flavor before. It intrigues me. I'm so fuckin bored out of my mind. I shall conduct a taste test of this new flavor and compare it to the old flavors. The final report will be posted by the end of business and I will make sure to charged the appropriate clients.
Today, however, Wild Mountain Blueberry paid a special visit. I have never seen this flavor before. It intrigues me. I'm so fuckin bored out of my mind. I shall conduct a taste test of this new flavor and compare it to the old flavors. The final report will be posted by the end of business and I will make sure to charged the appropriate clients.
The Slip
It's morning, the rain is awful, and yet another lowly important jackass forced himself onto MY subway car delaying my already long commute, infringing upon my already limited personnal space, and being just all around fat. This morning sucks.... that fat guy sucks. John, one of the partners who's office sits close to my desk has already handed me a project. He caught me before I could drop off my stuff and disappear for a few minutes. Like most mornings when the weather is serious, I drop my stuff under my desk and leave the office to grab breakfast, maybe a chocolate croissant, maybe not. It's the only time I can seriously and blatantly show up to work late. I tend to take an hour, sometimes more. It all depends on how serious the weather is. In past jobs, if it's snowing bad and I catch word that not only are the highways a mess, but the trains are delayed too, I'll take two hours. On a day like today, if it's a hard rain, I'll take an hour. With everybody showing up late from their commute, I'm hardly noticed, and when your dicking around and taking the firms money for a ride, you ALWAYS need an excuse, alibi, or doctors note (which for an associate would never pass, as long as you have a pulse, you're billing hours, being sick does not fly. Sucks for them). Not this morning, however, I was beat.
John had handed me this project before I could skip town. I haven't looked at it yet, I'll probably pass it off to an associate. I tend to tell associates that projects have been handed to me intended to be passed on to them. They're so burnt out and misserable that they don't even ask questions, and so long as I make sure the finished memo or contract gets sent to me and not the partner, I'm golden.... No one's going to get between me and a chocolate croissant. Not today, not ever.
John had handed me this project before I could skip town. I haven't looked at it yet, I'll probably pass it off to an associate. I tend to tell associates that projects have been handed to me intended to be passed on to them. They're so burnt out and misserable that they don't even ask questions, and so long as I make sure the finished memo or contract gets sent to me and not the partner, I'm golden.... No one's going to get between me and a chocolate croissant. Not today, not ever.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Hours
I love how easy it is to bill hours. Take now for instance. I just got out of a meeting with one of the partners about drafting a letter to a client. It's a basic, simple letter describing our progress with the case to which the lawyer clearly told me what to write word for word. I will somehow manage to bill an hour for this arduous endeavour. It will first take about 20 minutes of "research" on the case: bringing myself up to speed and whatnot (sitting in my chair and staring at the ceiling), then 20 minutes of "drafting" the letter (3 minutes to write the letter, and then another 17 minutes of staring at the ceiling) and finally another 20 minutes of "file maintenance" organizing all the supposed files I originally took out to "research" (how will I spend those 20 minutes?? You guessed it, to recline mode I go.....).
Mellons
So one of the secretaries offered me a piece of Melon this morning. I have been here for a little over a month now and we have never spoke. Why today of all days would she peer over my wall of solitude and offer me a piece of Melon. I say "Melon" instead of "fruit" because it invokes many different assumptions about the situation, who this lady is, and how god awfully awkward I felt. Seriously? Who goes up to somebody randomly and offers them a piece of Melon? Picture yourself sitting on the subway and a random person comes up to you with a Tupperware bowl filled with Melon and offers you a piece. That is how random, awkward, and strange this situation felt to me. I do not want a piece of your Melon. I do, however, have many requests.... Like put your damn phone on vibrate so that I don't have to hear that stupid ring of yours (Verizon Default Rock Music). Or how about the request that you stop leaving your little clock radio on while you go to lunch (that's me who unplugs it out of the wall and leaves it in the filing cabinet behind you... TAKE THE HINT). Or how about you stop pronouncing your lawyer's name wrong, you've only been working here a gazillion years longer than my 2 months, and I got it right on the first day. NO, I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOUR STUPID MELON!!!!!!!!!!!!
and so it begins....
I have never in my life believed myself to be a hard worker. I'd like to think one day I will be capable of sitting down for a full days worth of work, but at the rate and competence I'm working at now, retirements looming only a few short months away. But before we divulge into my summer of avoiding any, and all serious work, let me preface this blog with a little about me.
I'm currently a 2L law student spending (wasting) my summer at a semi-prestigious law firm internship in Manhattan. I say "semi-prestigious" because a lot of the hoopla I found marinating on the firms website has been so over-inflated, that Criss Angel couldn't create a firm with such accolades, and even he's an "illusionist" (Deuche).
It's also interesting to think how a sub-par student with sub-par ambitions could land a job, anywhere. My life has a long string of under achievements, all of which I'm actually quite proud. My motto for the past 24 some-odd years has been "minimal effort, maximum gain." This has resulted in terribly low GPA's, aggravated parents, and unimpressed bosses. But for some reason, here, at the law firm, I'm a champ.
I've learned the art of flipping pages and staring back and forth at the computer screen while I email friends. I hold onto completed projects for days beyond when I finish them so that I cannot be assigned a new one. Yes folks, I try to do nothing. And for some reason, it passes too. Trust me, this is no charity job. I got this on my own merits so no special treatment is being thrown my way. I think everybody is just too damn busy to put any thought to my clattering away on the keyboard. They probably think I'm writing up a memo, or maybe even an email to another attorney. They might even be hoping I'm typing up a suicide note so they may save a few bucks on my salary. I think employee suicides may qualify as a tax deduction.
But whatever they think, a legal intern does not come cheap, and as long as I'm "billing" clients, they'll stay out of my hair.
As the days pass, I will comment on the irregularities, annoyances, and just plain hysterics of this law firm. It would be nice to get feedback from other interns, hear similar stories, get different perspectives from interns in other fields and what not. I'll keep the stories coming regardless, so enjoy.
I'm currently a 2L law student spending (wasting) my summer at a semi-prestigious law firm internship in Manhattan. I say "semi-prestigious" because a lot of the hoopla I found marinating on the firms website has been so over-inflated, that Criss Angel couldn't create a firm with such accolades, and even he's an "illusionist" (Deuche).
It's also interesting to think how a sub-par student with sub-par ambitions could land a job, anywhere. My life has a long string of under achievements, all of which I'm actually quite proud. My motto for the past 24 some-odd years has been "minimal effort, maximum gain." This has resulted in terribly low GPA's, aggravated parents, and unimpressed bosses. But for some reason, here, at the law firm, I'm a champ.
I've learned the art of flipping pages and staring back and forth at the computer screen while I email friends. I hold onto completed projects for days beyond when I finish them so that I cannot be assigned a new one. Yes folks, I try to do nothing. And for some reason, it passes too. Trust me, this is no charity job. I got this on my own merits so no special treatment is being thrown my way. I think everybody is just too damn busy to put any thought to my clattering away on the keyboard. They probably think I'm writing up a memo, or maybe even an email to another attorney. They might even be hoping I'm typing up a suicide note so they may save a few bucks on my salary. I think employee suicides may qualify as a tax deduction.
But whatever they think, a legal intern does not come cheap, and as long as I'm "billing" clients, they'll stay out of my hair.
As the days pass, I will comment on the irregularities, annoyances, and just plain hysterics of this law firm. It would be nice to get feedback from other interns, hear similar stories, get different perspectives from interns in other fields and what not. I'll keep the stories coming regardless, so enjoy.
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