AT 10 PM ON SUNDAY NIGHT

Just came back from dinner with Fearless T and soon-to-be Mr. Fearless T. Kosher restaurant. Ate a lot of pickles, got full, and couldn't finish my cage-free chicken kebab. Fearless T was incredibly thorough and patient about my new dietary restrictions, calling restaurants to see if they served a certain brand of chicken that is cage-free. Mr. Fearless T said, "Your food restrictions entertain us" -- the "us" being Orthodox Jews, who know from dietary restrictions.

Have done no work for classes.

Did, however, make it to the gym. Which cost $12.

Also checked out the luggage storage for tomorrow, which costs $3.50 per day.

I suppose in a hotel of this size it only makes sense to charge for things like luggage storage. But it offends me nevertheless.

It's really not the amount per room that matters to me, it's the quality of service and the type of amenities that come with it. The boutique hotel I stayed in three weekends ago? Free continental breakfast with complimentary copies of the New York Times you could read. (The continental breakfast at Behemoth Hotel costs $14.95.) If there was a line for the concierge at Boutique Hotel, it was usually only 1 person. (Here, there's always a line of several people to check in or check out.) When you got to the concierge at Boutique Hotel, he smiled and was pleasant without being overly obsequious. (Here, I didn't get a hint of a smile when I talked to one of the counter folks about settling my incidentals bill; in fact, she was just short of snappish.) At Boutique Hotel, I didn't have to pay online for wireless service; I just called once and received a password that was good for the duration of my stay. (Here, I've had to call every night since Tuesday to get my wireless connection -- and it's the same goddamn problem every time.)

I just want some service, people. And it's easier to get it at a smaller place (which can be more expensive, but not necessarily: I just checked prices for the weekend of Nov. 11-13, and the boutique hotel is actually $60 cheaper than Behemoth Hotel! Sheesh.).

Anyhoo. Complaints and whining over for now. Must to bed, as have two remaining NYC interviews tomorrow and then am immediately getting on a plane back to Crimson College. It's been a long, strange, psychologically corrosive week.

Was very confused about the time today until realized that daylight savings ended today.

Yesterday, I considered going to a museum. I considered picking up some of my school books and reading for class. I considered going for a walk in Central Park. I considered going to the gym.

But it couldn't be done.

Complete sloth, I. Stayed in room and in bed all day except to go out to pick up food (Hunan shrimp and vegetable dumplings). Watched more movies on TV than should ever be watched in a 14-hour period (Catwoman, Dreamcatchers, Secondhand Lions, King Arthur, parts of Steel Magnolias, parts of Sixth Sense, parts of The Shining). Forgot to call Double M. Forgot to pay my credit card. Forgot all about the outside world.

It was nice.

I thought, for kicks, that you'd like to see what I write down about firms after I see them, so that I can remember them later for decision-making purposes. This is what I wrote after seeing a firm I wasn't too enthused about:

PEOPLE MET
- Interviewer #1: 2nd year banking associate, expecting baby in winter. 1 year and 1 week at firm. Low point was last Friday, when his office mate gave him stuff from a closing and said everything was fine but he ended up staying until 1 am to finish. On up side, he didn’t work over the weekend. He gets in probably one weekend day without work and has only once worked overnight and worked the next day too (til 6 am and then back at noon). Said the finance group had good training. Said that partners were asked to leave last year bc they weren’t making enough money. Mighty Big Firm has a “complex” about profits per partner not being comparable to Other Mighty Big Firms. There are no billable hours requirements – you hope you’re the guy who’s billing 1800 and not 2400. Typically leave around 8 pm, get in at 9:30. Recommended doing the max # of groups during the summer: 3. They insist on you taking your vacation – he’s taken 15 days out of 4 weeks in the first year. Nervous and very precise.
- Interviewer #2: Partner. Seemed affable enough. We talked a lot about tax and estates.
- Interviewer #3: retired but still working. An odd, but charming old bird. Made me pick which business card I liked better. Trying to get pro bono work counted as billable hours. In a roundabout way, said that the “part of the capitalist engine that makes the world go round” justification was BS. Which it is.
- Interviewer #4: partner in tax. Jacket was too big on him. The toughest of them. Felt like he was reserving judgment on me, but also that he took an ironic approach to the whole interview thing.
- Interviewer #5: 3rd (?) year associate, just got own office. Very nice, sharply dressed, said he knew some people who’d gone abroad.

OVERALL IMPRESSION
Partners seemed affable enough, and the associates were both really nice. But all white male interviewers? And sharing offices? I think probably not.

I am sitting on my hotel bed, engulfed in my terrycloth hotel robe.

I got an offer from the morning callback today, which I was sure I had bombed. It was the first callback in which interviewers asked actual questions. To wit: “We’re in the business of advising clients on business matters. If you were the head of a company thinking about expanding into foreign markets, what kinds of concerns would you have?”

I mumbled something about different laws and jurisdictions.

“Well, let’s pretend that’s all taken care of by the general counsel lawyer. What else?”

I stared out the window for a full 10 seconds. “Ummm, I guess whether there was political stability, economic stability, whether the market could handle my product, maybe PR concerns if I’m using foreign labor…”

“Ah! You mean outsourcing.”

“Uh, yeah. Outsourcing.”

“And what about that concerns you?”

“Well, I think it probably wouldn’t have an effect on consumer trends overall, but there have been some PR fiascos with certain individuals or companies that use child labor in foreign countries.”

“Is PR the only problem? Anything else?”

“Well, if you’re talking about labor, then yeah, the moral aspect of it too. You don’t want to be taking advantage of a labor force, you want to be compensating them fairly – maybe not to American standards, but certainly to the standard of the local economy.”

Damn! That actually sounds pretty smart. In any case, British Interviewer Man gave me positive feedback on that.

Then the next interviewer asked me what case I’d run across in law school that made me really think. Gor! I babbled about a contracts case where the defendant later in life was one of the survivors of the Titanic before settling on my real answer of Fair Housing Act and employment discrimination cases, both of which are pretty compelling when you think about how the law can be used to ensure equal access for everyone.

I thought for a second that she might press me on if I thought corporate practice addressed those kinds of issues, but she instead asked what my favorite book was. I dragged out A.S. Byatt, whom I haven’t read for years, but demurred on the grounds that I was more likely to read a federal rule of evidence than a novel these days.

And 30 minutes later, I was offered a job. It was weird. They said they usually don’t offer on the spot, but that they thought I was really a Mighty Big Firm X kind of person.

I told them I felt like I was winning an Academy Award. And joked, “You like me, you really like me!” which British Interview Man didn’t pick up on, since he’s British and wouldn’t know the cultural reference to Sally Fields’ acceptance speech in the 1980s.

I think I was really tired. From not sleeping well because I had a pumpkin spice latte with an associate until 7:30 pm yesterday. And from the psychic drain of having to nod and say “uh huh” and “oh, really?” and “that’s interesting” to TWENTY-SEVEN people over the past three days.

My fault entirely, for being so damn indecisive and being unable to drop any callbacks.

The second firm I saw today is famous for being nice. And for being passive-aggressive. Mr. Rocks’ girlfriend works there, and Mrs. DefStave worked there too before moving to Crimson City with Mr. DefStave. Mrs. DefStave said a couple weeks ago: “I LOVED this Mighty Big Firm.”

Well, I must admit, I really liked the people there too. They just seemed like people I wouldn’t mind having lunch with. Mr. Rocks says it’s because they’re good at small talk. But I still hope they extend an offer, despite the fact that I was 5 minutes late to the interview (go, hk!).

The afternoon callback was the only firm so far that has offered a tour of the office, including the conference rooms, training rooms, word processing center, and cafeteria. It was a little weird, but refreshing. I started laughing silently to myself as the recruiting person and I walked around, and I guess I was grinning when we peeked into the training room, which might explain why some guy raised his Styrofoam cup in greeting, and the recruiting person asked, “Are you making faces at someone in there?” I denied it, saying that someone just raised his cup to us, and she said, “Oh, it’s because you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

Someone sign me up for this firm!

After that callback, I dropped off a transcript that someone at one of the earlier callbacks had wanted, and then called Mr. Rocks for dinner. He said he could take a break for dinner, so I went down to his firm and we had dinner at a Swedish restaurant, where I had an unholy concoction of Chilean sea bass stewed in prunes, champagne and dried tomatoes. It was fouler than foul. And it cost $30. ‘S wack is what it is.

Now back in the hotel, and ready, oh so ready, for bed.

(15 minutes later) Grr! Stupid effing wireless. This is the third night in a row I've had to call and have technicians manually purchase wireless access for me. The same effing problem. Effing fix the problem or just purchase it til the end of my stay, for crissakes.

(2 minutes later) I can't believe it -- they won't charge it in advance. Have asked to speak with a supervisor.

(10 minutes later) Ah ha. Got a supervisor on the phone, who made the appropriate soothing noises and sounded like he would try to make everything work for me until Monday. Service, thou art revived! How lovely thou lookest.

I opened the blackout curtains this morning and said, "Hello, Mr. Sun!" It was a crisp fall day, the kind of day where every outline of every building is etched against the sky, and the massive towers of Wall Street form a sublime vertical counterpart to the curves and horizontal lines of the Brooklyn Bridge as you whiz down FDR Drive in a cab at 10 in the morning, arriving -- most unusually -- at the recommended 10 minutes before the interview.

The sun changes everything. Long live the sun! Although it's probably a vast conspiracy to make me think that Mighty Big Firm #1 today, which has a fairly bad reputation as a firm of screamers and a sweatshop, was really not so bad, and that all the people at Mighty Big Firm #1 today were pretty chill.

I actually received an on-the-spot offer from them, which took me totally aback. Apparently one interviewer was pleased enough to say, "You can put her in the office next to me!" I was later told, by old college bud Mr. Rocks, who works at Mighty Big Firm #1, that that was the firm's modus operandi: if you don't get an offer on the spot, you aren't getting one. He and his office mate had had a few moments of anxiety, since they were taking me out to lunch -- what if hk didn't get an offer? What would they talk about at lunch? It's a good thing I didn't know about this M.O.

But I got an offer, at which I burst out, "Oh my GOD, really?" like the suave sophisticate I am, and got taken to a super duper fancy Chinese restaurant, where I got a nice orchid for my lapel and ate $60 worth of food, including some superb Hunan shrimp. Thank goodness I have an exception for seafood in my cage-free vegetarianism.

Mighty Big Firm #2 today wasn't as good -- very genteel, polite firm with a considerable commitment to pro bono (one associate said she probably devoted 35% of her time to pro bono), but I didn't really click with anyone.

Because that callback involved late afternoon coffee with someone (I swear, this whole process is like dating), I left the office at 7:30 pm. Got back to my hotel and wrote up my impressions, talked with MattSal for an hour, talked with Joiner, then dove into what would be two hours of email work related to Student Org #2. And now it's 12:30 am and I really, really look forward to sleeping.

The hardest thing is appearing interested as partners drone on and on about the virtues of their particular firm, or the practice group they lead. As the day drags on, it becomes increasingly more difficult to maintain alertness, and to follow what someone is saying if it isn't a completely casual conversation.

The partners are the worst, and I met three -- three! -- in my afternoon callback, all in a row. They're more likely to be lazy and stop participating in the conversation after 10 minutes, letting you frantically search your brain for questions to ask as they explain about their particular practice area, or the firm's future. As if it isn't hard enough to be interested in talking to pasty old white men who take their power elite status for granted and who have precious little in common with a young KA woman. There are so few who appear to take a genuine interest in who I am.

The two young white male associates I met at that afternoon callback were incredibly nice, though, and easy to talk to. But the line-up of five white male lawyers left a far more negative impression on me than I would have thought. In actuality, this world is dominated by white men. While the number of men and women hired as first year associates is probably equal at most large law firms now, as time wears on and people leave a firm (one associate said about 10-15% of any given class per year), the circle tightens. And if you look at partners, industry-wide, there is a large gap between the genders. Part of this is that women didn't seriously start entering the profession until the 1970s. But all the literature seems to point to a trend of women leaving the profession more than men.

Anyway. The Mighty Big Firm I saw this morning was, as all rumors had it, very nice and genteel. I really liked one woman I met there, a KA who had been a classical musician before going to law school (she said the decision to leave music was "heartbreaking"), and seemed to know a lot of people who left and were doing cool things (she knew someone who used to work there who is now working for the UN Commission on Human Rights, for example). The first partner I saw apologetically had to take a call from a former Director of a large federal agency, who was asking for his advice on a report to the UN. The last partner I saw seemed deader than a dead fish, except when he showed me the guidebook he'd helped to write about his particular field.

I thankfully had not scheduled a lunch, so I walked back to the hotel, which I am beginning to actively dislike. I hate the two restaurants, I hate the fact that it takes so long to get to my room on the 40th floor, I hate the fact that they wouldn't let me charge room service to the firm.

The second Mighty Big Firm I saw today was White Man Central, as I mentioned. I don't know why that bothered me so much. One partner I talked with, a sprightly and very sharply dressed older man (who retired because that Mighty Big Firm has mandatory retirement at age 65, but is somehow still practicing), in a charming, gentlemanly way said that pro bono, like diversity, was a big selling point for recruits and clients. He asked me how I thought working in a firm would contribute to society (because I stupidly mentioned that as a motivator for going to law school), and I quickly ad-libbed that I could take care of my family, donate a lot of money, and contribute to the great capitalist machine that keeps the global economy chugging along.

Hey, I thought it was pretty good for a spur-of-the-moment answer.

Spry Retired Partner Man then told a story of how a lawyer he knew was telling some people at a party this very line about the great capitalist machine, and how his wife very loudly said, "That is the biggest BS I have ever heard!" Which, let's face it, it totally is.

Oh, Mighty Big Firms! Oh, Spry and Spright Retired Partner Man! Oh, Pasty White Man Firm! Oh, Genteel and Nice MBF! Oh, rotten hotel! It is all so weird and such a charade. The market here is very good this year; as one of the associates at Pasty White Man Firm said, there are a lot of jobs opening up for people this year, which means that associates who had been holding out for a couple years are now jumping ship, which means the firm has to recruit lots of warm bodies to fill their places.

You need a warm body? I gots a warm body! What I ain't got much of is my soul.

Today's callback was all right. I liked the firm and the people I met well enough -- not super-duper, but probably better than the first two last week. There was something very smart and polished and professional about the office.

The lunch was extremely awkward, as you might expect. The two associates didn't know each other, and one of them had only been there a week! The other was astonishingly open about his exit plans and didn't try to sell the firm at all, merely reiterating in different forms that it was a Mighty Big Law Firm, and what could you expect. I rather liked that.

Miss D took me around to some shops in Soho after my interminably long lunch (it ended at 4 pm!), and we unsuccessfully searched for a basic black suit. Everything I saw seemed to be the wrong size, or had too-big shoulder pads, or something not quite right. Perhaps I'm experiencing a resistance to buying a suit that's related to my reluctance to skip down this path...

Tomorrow I start three days of back-to-back interviews. Forecast: heavy rain until noon, and then rain and showers for the rest of the day. MUST it rain every time I do a callback?

I really must get to the gym while here. Today I had a $7 bowl of oatmeal for breakfast; a $26 prix fixe lunch consisting of a terrine of goat cheese, broiled trout, baked apple, and cappucino; and a $25 dinner of swordfish and seafood risotto. My tummy is getting quite round.

I am oozing garlic from every pore.

Eating oh, 15 cloves of garlic or so will do that to you.

I got to my hotel room at the Hilton New York and went to order room service, only to be told that 1. it would be an hour before my food got to me, and 2. it would be cash on delivery.

What?

Yes, since I had not put down a credit card for "incidentals," I'd have to pay cold hard cash.

The hotel last week made no fuss about charging room service to my room account. Paid for, of course, by Mighty Big Firm. What's this shit?

So I canceled my order and called Miss D, who promptly came charging uptown, took me out to a tapas bar, and cheered me up over crab cakes, crostini (with aforementioned garlic cloves), and some damn good Syrah. Oh, and gave me a cigarette as well, which was gladly received.

I'm on the 40th floor of a massive hotel, but I'm thinking longingly of my cool dark room in the boutique hotel I was camped out in last weekend.

One gets used to luxury very, very quickly.

Miss D calmed me down, offering common sense advice and details about the job that made it seem palatable. And the Syrah did a nice job of banishing the whiny, teary hk for the night.

Tomorrow's Mighty Big Firm is known for being "quirky." Whatever the hell that means. It has the reputation of being quite amenable to moving associates around the globe, with a smile. That's appealing. In my on-campus interview with this one, my interviewer was interested in my language skills -- a good sign for international work prospects.

I am hoping that I will click with this firm, because it does seem to have two very important traits (for me): international scope and nice people.

I hope I like it.

Now I'm going to read a little of my psycho murderer novel, which I checked out of the undergrad library in record time, with Charm patiently waiting for me so that we could get my ass to the airport on time. As it was, I missed my 5 pm flight, but got on the 6 pm. As G.K. Chesterton said, you can only get a train if you miss the one before it.

Charm, who graced me with a visit yesterday, and I woke up to an enormous crack of thunder last night. It sounded like it was right over the building. Bit scary, actually -- I was glad she was there. But neither of us got particularly good sleep last night. I hope I shan't be too tired tomorrow. I'm planning on going to the gym before the interview at 10:45 am. Hopefully that will put me in an "Eye of the Tiger," go-get-'em mood tomorrow.

Better today, though still really tired.

Had lunch today with the girl I used to sit next to in Civ Pro and who is in the Legal History class I'm taking now. We decided to try talking about the readings before class next time, to psych ourselves up for talking in class.

I returned the brown Ann Taylor suit I bought last week. Even though I'd snipped the tags off, they took it back, no questions asked. I unsuccessfully looked for another suit. Found a fairly nonoffensive black suit, but it was made out of a marginally weird waffle-patterned fabric. It's like they don't make a simple black suit any more. At this rate, I'll be wearing my blue suit every day next week. I might look in some stores downtown tomorrow.

Joiner's mom is here, and we're talking about going apple-picking tomorrow. When am I going to fit this all in? There's always a surfeit of options here.

Went to see a movie with some sub-section people tonight. Thought the Destroyers might be there, but they weren't. I really need to watch myself with Mr. Destroyer. I was looking too forward to seeing him.

This year is totally different from last year. I barely see people from my old section, I rarely eat in the school cafeteria, I've only gone to the library twice. It's good. One of the folks tonight said flyout week made him sad, because we spread out across the country next week to do our callbacks (yes, we get the whole week off from class to go interview at firms), mirroring the diaspora to come in a year and a half.

Eh. It's not really that sad.

Have just hit overload point. Can't process any more information, can't fake enthusiasm anymore, can't pretend that everything is going to be fine. Though I'm sure everything will be fine.

I hate the thought that I'm going to faking enthusiasm all of next week. I hate the thought that I have come to this point, 29.5 years old, and still don't know what job will make me happy. I hate the fact that none of the career counselors understand where I'm coming from as a second-career student who's made a big mistake.

What the hell is WRONG with me?

This week, as part of a violent reaction against three weeks of a little reading, a little class, and a whole lotta interviewing, I've thrown myself into talks and presentations around school. The wonderful thing about Crimson -- besides its billion-dollar endowment -- is its ability to draw such amazing speakers and lecturers. I didn't go to many last year because of all the fucking reading I was always doing, and the activities I foolishly overloaded on. But this week I've had some time to actually take advantage of the plethora of opportunities to learn outside the classroom. Call it a spiritual shake-up.

So on Monday I went to a panel featuring four white men on private international law. Corporate finance, mostly. Ugh. Duller than a block of wood.

Yesterday morning, the head of the civil rights bureau in New York gave a talk in our employment class, which was awesome. Employment discrimination is where it's AT, yo. I actually saw him again tonight at another panel on government law, and just wrote him an email about non-litigation legal jobs in employment discrimination. Yes, I'm actually that interested in it. It's a weird feeling.

Yesterday at noon, I was most disturbed to find that, by the time I arrived, there was no more pizza at the lunchtime talk I'd signed up for. But the talk was so interesting, I couldn't leave! Who knew that the Auditor-General of the Asian Development Bank -- another white man, but Dutch (perhaps that's the difference?) -- could be so engaging and funny? And that the ADB is actually a player in some of the human rights projects I help coordinate? (The ADB is like the World Bank -- it gives loans to countries for public projects. Auditor-General Man was talking about fighting corruption in the project assignment process.)

Last night I went to a bit of a nutty talk by one of the big mediator/negotiator folks on campus, who happens to be looking into the spiritual aspects of life and how that could improve negotiations. So she showed "Dead Poets Society" and then had a touchy feely talk about it afterwards, which involved throwing an invisible beach ball around at one point (don't ask). She encouraged us at the end to pursue our dreams and our passions. Unexpected. And nice.

Tonight, I went to a panel about government law, like I mentioned above, which featured the former chief defense counsel for the Department of Defense, the general counsel to a big community development agency, and the aforementioned bureau chief. I practically ran down to talk to bureau chief man at the end. You gotta be quick when there are 20 eager beaver 1Ls with eager beaver questions. It's cool that you're so eager, kiddies, but hk needs a JOB. Outta the way.

At the end of the panel, the moderator asked for a concluding thought from each panelist, and the Defense Department Dude, who struck me as deeply spiritual and thoughtful, said, "Listen to your heart. Follow your passion." ARGH. It's like the whole world is telling me: "What the fuck are you doing, hk? What happened to your heart?"

Somehow, it must all fit together, right? Somewhere there's a place for me, isn't there?

Have just received first summer job offer. I guess being the only morning interviewee in: 1. a brown suit and 2. among the women, a pants suit, didn't work against me after all.

I returned to Crimson City last night to find that Def and Stave had had their bid on a beautiful single family home accepted that day. Congrats to Def and Stave! It's truly a beautiful place.

Too tired to do anything, I went to sleep around midnight and woke up today at 10. Still tired. Maybe I have mono.

Am in the library, ostensibly to do my Evidence reading for the week. It's cloudy but rainless and bright today. A cool, crisp New England day. Joiner and I thought about going apple picking, but decided against it because of the high winds. I feel restless, though, like the winds are bringing in something.

It was a bad Friday, you know. The weather, the bland people, the saturation of mindless spending, the effort to be pleasant and agreeable while battling sinus pressure and congestion. I was as gloomy as the weather when I walked out of Mighty Big Firm #2's offices that afternoon. Where had I gone wrong? Why hadn't I listened to my gut? Why had I decided to do this corporate thing in the biggest and baddest corporate capital of them all? It was all wrong, everything was off and forced and not of the lord.

Now? I just don't know. I don't know anything.

I went to see the public interest advisor last Wednesday, and she said she thought I should split the summer and try a non-traditional legal job. What that means, I'm not sure. "If you decide to do something that doesn't involve law or legal skills at all, then yes, maybe it was a mistake to come here," she said. "But I'm not convinced that that's the case yet." Yeah, okay. We'll give it the old college try.

FIRST CALLBACKS OF THE SEASON

This is the way it was: after my second callback on Friday, which was right around the corner from the World Trade Center site, I spied a fellow smoking outside, and practically sprinted over to him to bum a cigarette. It was that kind of day.

The callbacks consisted of four 30-minute interviews: two associates and two partners.

The first Mighty Big Firm callback: I arrived late, having been caught off guard by the dearth of taxis. Man, cabbies must love rainy days. I ended up walking to the office, and arrived in a light sheen of sweat.

I was directed to a conference room where 15 other interviewees in their dark blue or black suits stared at sweaty, brown-pantsuit-ed me. Hi, fellow drones!

Partner 1: married white guy, late 30s. A newly minted litigation partner. He started out by apologizing for the state of the office, complaining about the sea foam carpet. Dude, I spent the summer in a fucking library with no windows, where attorneys met with clients all the time. Having an office with a door I can close is like heaven. Despite this difference in perspective, we had a nice conversation.

Partner 2: married white guy, late 30s. He’d worked at another firm until recently, and in their DC and London offices, until they didn’t offer him partnership, at which point he jumped ship. We had a pretty decent conversation as well. Anytime someone has spent some time overseas, there’s usually some connection I can make, and making the connection is what it’s all about. I found myself thinking of mediation principles and tools: emphasize commonalities to bridge the gap!

Associate 1: a woman, from the name I have on my card, but I have no fucking memory of her whatsoever. Must’ve been a really great conversation, eh?

Associate 2: white guy, late 30s. In litigation, just like the first partner. I was pretty tired by this point, so I babbled about this and that and said at the end, “You know, they say never to say you have no questions, but I’ve been talking to people for the past two hours, now, and … yeah.”

I fled the building and bought a Chipotle burrito on the way back to the hotel, and ate blissfully while watching TV.

I chose to go with the safe and boring navy blue skirt suit for my second callback. I headed out of my room at 1:45 for my 2:30 pm callback, but was dismayed to find that the wait for a taxi was possibly as long as 30 minutes. So I sprinted back to my room, pulled on my sneakers, and hustled over to Grand Central, where I got on the 4 train, got off at Wall Street, and asked about 3 people where the heck Mighty Big Firm #2 was.

I changed shoes in the lobby of the building, and went up. I was late. The receptionist was on the 48th floor. The rain and mist made the office a cloud city.

This time, I didn’t have to walk into a room of other interviewees – someone from personnel came to meet me with my schedule in her hand. She first took me to see the guy I’d seen on campus, who mistakenly thought I was finishing my interviews and so didn’t bother getting off the phone quickly. He walked me over to the first associate’s office.

Associate #1: a soft-spoken and gentle third year female associate, who’d gone straight through from college to law school to Mighty Big Firm and clearly had simply fallen into this job without really knowing why. A bit bland, but very nice.

Associate #2: a young black female associate the same age as me. Blandest of the bland. I ended up talking to her for twice the allotted time, because the partner I was supposed to see next was MIA.

Partner #1: see above. Apparently in a meeting. Way to make a good impression, Partner Dude!

Partner #2: the most interesting of them all. Asian man with a Taiwanese or Hong Kong accent, stains on his rumpled white shirt, his subway pass visible through his shirt pocket. He took the interview seriously, going over my resume and looking askance at me when I asked him politely, “And what about you? Where did you go to school?” He answered curtly and went on with his questions. At one point, we had this exchange:

“And what were you thinking when you took these jobs? Did you have some plan in mind?”

“Well,” I said, preparing to launch into my story, “I have a friend who is fond of reminding me that life cannot be understood forward, that it only makes sense when you look back upon it. And that’s what I –“

“That’s not an original thought, you know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your friend – she's quoting Kierkegaard.” He wrote down the name on my resume.

“Oh!” I said, trying to recover, but simultaneously thinking that I never claimed it was an original thought. “I think she dated it back to the Romans, or maybe the Greeks.”

“Well, maybe,” he said, “but Kierkegaard also said it.”

“Yes. Well.”

We then went on some tangent about trusting your gut and putting Humpty together again, and I remember thinking that it was an appealing and interesting analogy, but that the guy was brusque and rude, because he actually grabbed my notes from me at one point and read my spreadsheet of info about the firm. As he did this, I was trying to remember if I’d written anything revealing about the firm, or the partner I’d met with on campus. What had I written about him? Turns out it was pretty bland: “Keeps emphasizing how they only take high level clients – what up with that?” Partner #2 read that aloud and answered, “Oh, because we charge them very high amounts."

Damn, Partner #2! Way to be intrusive and rude!

After all that, I collected my shit from the closet in the reception area, took the elevator down, changed my shoes, and walked outside into the rain. I hadn’t gone 5 steps when I spotted a guy in a retro button down shirt and glasses smoking by the exit. Yay for smokers!

Exhausted, I wandered around in the rain for half an hour, trying to find a bloody Citibank where I could deposit some checks, before giving up and going back to the hotel.

Ah, the hotel. I woke up today in a far better mood – a combination of sunny weather after a week of rain, and the feel of Egyptian cotton sheets under a thick down comforter. It was quiet. It was cool. I opened the shades and looked at the little patch of blue sky above the backs of all the buildings. A wispy white cloud rapidly floated by. Someone had tied strings from their window to the roof for their ivy plants, and a "V" of green punctuated the brick walls. This, I felt, was worth selling your soul for.

So I'm in my $270-a-night hotel room on Madison Avenue, having just ordered tuna tartare ($20 and a Thai salad ($10), given my shoes to be shined (complimentary), and ordered wireless for my laptop ($10).

My soul is apparently worth $310 a night.

I'm in New York, with callback interviews at two Mighty Big Firms tomorrow. Took cabs to and from the airport, and am just getting over the pacing-round-the-room-feeling-like-I-can't-possibly-be-worth-all-this stage.

Did I mention the 27-inch flat screen TV?

It's so supremely weird to be wined and dined like this. And I haven't even met anyone at the firms yet!

I spent a good 10 minutes hyperventilating on the phone with Joiner, because I don't know if I can do this.

And then I reached One-Armed Maggie, who is at work and "insanely busy" at 8:30 pm on a Thursday night. That is what makes this room, the tuna tartare, the Thai salad, the shoes, and the wireless possible.

Just got my room service and gave the guy a $4 tip on the charge slip. 10 percent of the charge. Christ.

Stick a fork in me!

Finished. Completed. Wrapped. All over. Brought on home. Concluded. Consummated. Ended. Fini. Executed. Realized. Achieved. Exhausted.

On-campus interviews: done.

And the last one was conducted over a martini (me) and a margarita (interviewer). Seriously. I ran there because I was late, and dude opens the door and is all, "I'm thirsty. Can we get something to drink in the hospitality suite?"

Okay, sez me.

"Actually," he says, "I could use a real drink. Are you up for one?"

"Are you serious?"

"Sure!"

"Uh, okay, then."

So we go down to the bar on the first floor of the hotel and it's a weird scene, 'cuz he's like, "So what do you like to do outside of law school?" and "Ask me anything, really."

So I say, "traveling," and "Okay, how much do grades really count?" and "So, what percentage of Crimson kids really can't carry on a conversation?"

And it's stilted and weird (from my perspective), but what the hell, I got a Ketel One vodka martini out of it. And verified that this Mighty Big Firm is, as the rumors had it, Frat Boy Haven.

I was encouraged to come to Mighty Big Firm's reception tonight (dude said, "If you come to our reception tonight I'll buy you another martini"), but what I say is: over my cold, rigor mortised dead body.

And then there were none!

And now I must read Evidence.

But first, check out this email from the women's law association here at Crimson:

"Love to learn how to play sports? Love to play sports and to help others learn, too? This year, the WLA Sports Committee will be planning a series of beginner sports lessons for women in key "networking sports" such as golf, tennis, squash, volleyball, softball, and basketball. If you'd like to help plan or teach, or would just like to provide your input, please come to our first meeting this Friday. All are welcome."

Interesting -- and so very damn smart. In my first interview today, the interviewee before me came out and said to another guy, "Hey, I was just talking about our flag football team in there!" Yeah.... catch ME talking about my flag football team. There are so many ways to connect with people, and usually men have a whole dimension of life that they can draw on and women usually can't. When you're talking about a male-dominated profession (yes, law students are pretty evenly divided between genders now, but look at the partners in any firm, and you'll see the unbelievably huge divide), that can be the difference between success and mediocrity.

A list of stuff in hk's life lately, because I feel tired and ill:

1. It's been raining for four days straight. But oddly, I like it.

2. Enjoyed Crimson City's MFA on Friday night with Joiner and some others. First Fridays at the MFA -- who knew they were such a meat market? So many art lovers, scoping, scoping, scoping!

3. Training for Student Org. #1 this past weekend. I love giving feedback. I love evaluating people. It's sick.

4. More callbacks. So far, 13 for 15.

5. After falling badly over the weekend and obtaining an enormous bruise on my lower back, I fell again today, on some stairs outside a classroom building. Tore one of my favorite pairs of jeans, and bloodied and bruised my knee. Sad, sad hk!

6. Also mysteriously tore the jacket of the suit I was thinking about wearing for my interviews in NYC on Friday. Damn, damn, damn. I think I am going to have to shell out for a suit. Cannot bear the thought of wearing the same navy blue number I have been wearing for the past three weeks.

7. Because of training, did not have time nor energy to read ahead for classes this week; thus, reading now and despairing of ever catching up in Evidence.

8. Had another sad yet simultaneously enraging conversation with Friend this weekend, who asked me "to give [him] another chance." I told him I couldn't, and I couldn't explain why my feelings changed, only that they did, and that the window was open for a period of time but now it was shut, and he missed it. Jesus. I can't deal.

9. Am sleeping enough (averaging 7 hours a night) but am exhausted in the mornings. Why?

10. In an hour, I go to my last 20-minute interview of the season. Thank the sweet lord. I feel like utter crap.

It's 8 am on a rainy Saturday. I've got to go do training for Student Org #1 in an hour. I'm sporting a huge bruise on my lower back from where I slipped and fell on the back stairs last night (an almost perfect repetition of last year's fall on the stairs from the laundry room, when I nearly cracked my head open).

Last weekend I felt like, "Whew, the tough part is nearing its end, I can concentrate on my studies and have weekends again soon."

Bwah hah hah! Foolish hk! You will never be able to read a full assignment for class before said class. Never! Ever!

Lots of shenanigans since last I wrote. By theme:

1. Summer Jobs.

After a respite of two days, I dove back into the on-campus interviews with three Mighty Big Firms on Thursday and two on Friday. Despite telling the interviewer from the NY branch of a CA firm that I was interested in NY "for the near future," he called with a callback offer yesterday.

On one of the other interviews on Thursday, I had a nightmarish moment when I said, "So tell me about your XYZ practice group" and the interviewer said, "You know we don't have an XYZ practice group, right?"

"Really?" I said, starting to sweat, "Uh, the American Lawyer says you have a 'small but high-level XYZ group..."

"Oh, right! Yes, but that's a very small group."

Okaaaaaay. Buh-bye, chances of working at that firm!

I did figure out that I am interested in about 3 firms based in NYC, with really global practices (meaning essentially that they don't mind sending lawyers to other offices and do so on a regular basis). That's my first tier preference.

My second tier preferences are 2 UK firms that are also very global -- maybe even more so than the domestic firms in the first tier, but because of the cultural differences (my interviewers for those were very formal and a bit stuffy), I think it would be easier to work for a domestic-based firm.

And third tier -- what need I of a third tier? Heh.

Actually, I am semi-serious. I was sitting with two classmates at the hotel where all these interviews take place, and one of them was saying, "I have a three-point system: (1) Why I'm great, (2) why your firm is great, and (3) any questions you have."

I thought about this for a second and said, "Huh. I automatically assume that they think I'm great." They both laughed at this, but I think I actually do assume that. I selected the firms I did for a reason -- they take people like me. My grades, which are the threshold for any consideration, are slightly above average. I have overseas experience. I'm personable (in short, 20-minute bursts, anyway). And I'm pretty much at ease with the whole process. What more could they want?

2. Fancy Firm Receptions and Dastardly Destroyers

On Thursday night, while talking with Lecturess, I noticed a message on my machine.

"Hey hk, it's Mr. Destroyer. I was just calling to say hi and see if you wanted to catch up over a drink sometime. My number is 555-DESTROYER. Hope to hear from you soon."

I called back and left a message that I was amenable to such plans. I subsequently checked my email to find one from Mr. Destroyer suggesting a drink at the Fancy Firm Reception that night. Since I was planning on going anyway, I headed on over.

The first thing I did was order a Mighty Large Martini at the bar. Whee!

Then I made my way to the far end of the room and sipped my drink. That's the trick at these things. The associates are there to chat up people. So they make a point of finding you. If you're like me, and you have maybe one question (that isn't really crucial) and you have zero interest in impressing anyone (who probably won't remember you the next day), you take your big ass martini, park yourself in a corner, and enjoy.

It wasn't long before 2 associates came over. I chatted with one for a while. He left. A friend came by to see if I wanted to go to Fancy Firm Reception #2. We headed toward the door but bumped into more people. 2 more associates came by. I actually enjoyed talking with one -- a level-headed and non-impressed 3rd year associate in mergers and acquisitions. A pretty French LLM came by to talk to said associate and I excused myself.

On the way to Fancy Firm Reception #2, I got a call from Mr. Destroyer, who said he'd come over to the FFR. I went inside another place I'd never go to otherwise (tres expensivo!) and had some sort of chambord-champagne drink they called a Ruby Red. I chatted with drunk boys.

Mr. Destroyer showed up when the reception was dying down, and chastised me for not letting him know it was a FFR. (He was wearing jeans and flip-flops.) "Why would I be at this place if it weren't for free?" I asked.

"I come here sometimes," he said.

Of course.

So me and Mr. Destroyer go out for another round of drinks, and it's friendly enough until we turn onto Weirdness Lane. I asked him after an hour or so, "So what else is going on in your life?"

He paused, and said, "Isn't it weird that we don't know each other better than we do? I feel like that's the kind of question that you ask someone you don't know well, and I think we're beyond that, but we don't really seem to get there. You're very hard to read."

And the conversation rapidly degenerated.

Well, not degenerated so much as became this ultra-conscious, hyper-aware exchange of meta-analysis that I have become used to with Mr. Destroyer, a philospher and academic if ever there was one.

He politely walked me almost to my home, and we had another long discussion on the street, him holding his bike, about why I'm closed (uh, because I don't fancy being destroyed?) and other things. I told him -- and mind you, this was after a martini, a Ruby Red, half a Sidecar, and a full Boo-Boo -- that I wasn't sure he would treat my confidences with the reverence I wanted them to be treated with (I know), and then that maybe it was partly because when you open yourself to other people, you give them power over you, and I wasn't sure I wanted to have that kind of relationship with him (yes, yes, I know).

To which he said he didn't consider it a power thing, and that he was just open with everyone.

Uh huh.

After bidding each other farewell, I went to Joiner's room and ate half a wheel of Brie, complaining about Destroyers and their ways.

3. Blind Dates

So I went on one last weekend with a nice Asian American doctor, and I could tell we were looking for different things, but I got a nice meal and a Bloody Mary out of it, so I was pretty content I'd done my duty to get out there.

I get an email yesterday which I'll reproduce in part here:

i debated with my best friend in [Crimson City] whether i should write etc. i had a great time last weekend. very stimulating conversation, fun etc. i don't want you thinking that i'm ignoring you or that i didn't have fun. my friend is of the school that if there's no romantic interest then i shouldn't write/keep in contact. i'm of the school that we should keep in touch as friends if it's mutual.

i had a great time talking with you. the first thing i thought after dropping you off was wow, she's amazingly smart... just the way you were able to ask questions and pick up on key things etc, it was pretty cool. anyways, hope we can keep in touch as friends. don't know if this makes sense at all but just wanted to explain my thinking....

Thoughts, anyone?

Uh oh. I think I drank too much Diet Coke to go to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight. And three interviews tomorrow! I need to guzzle caffeine tomorrow, not today.

You know, I think one of my suitemates is "borrowing" my shampoo, which I keep in the bathroom. It has a distinctive fragrance, which I enjoy very much, but not really when it wafts out of the bathroom after someone else uses it. It's a 99-cent bottle of shampoo, so it's not about the cost. I'd certainly let either of my suitemates use it -- provided they asked me first.

Annoying.

Today was pretty busy -- I got up early to read evidence, trying to get ahead in the reading, since I knew I wouldn't be able to read much tonight for Thursday's class (and indeed, I haven't read at all tonight for that class). After evidence and employment law, I had a quick lunch while researching one of the firms I interview with tomorrow, and then went to catch the bus for mediation.

I'm mediating in a new part of town this semester, where the population is predominantly black. There were 3 non-black people in the courtroom: me, another mediator, and the collections agency lawyer.

The magistrate gave us a case to mediate, and the two women followed us out into the corridor, followed in turn by the friends they'd brought. We went to a conference room and I gave the intro spiel. One of the parties then said she wanted to go before the judge, and didn't want to do that mediation, so that was that. We all stayed for the docket, though, and it turned out that the two women were related in the most interesting way: they were certainly both in their early or mid-twenties, but A's father was the father of B's children. Or, A was the stepdaughter of B. Or, as A put it, her children were B's step-siblings.

Logic game!

Anyway, the judge made short work of the case, which clearly had a lot of other stuff going on underneath the actual complaint brought.

Afterwards, I took the bus home with one of the mediator trainees, who had observed our aborted mediation, and discovered, as I suspected, that she was very cool. She took last year off to work in Mexico with community-level financing, in order to make the most of her last year (hoping to come back knowing what she wanted to do). She said she still didn't know what she wanted to do, but she did feel more focused. Bravo, mediator-trainee! That is pretty darn cool.

She also mentioned that she'd loved the project finance work she'd done two summers ago. And she hated legal research and advocacy. So we can always hope...

Tomorrow will be busy too: classes, then three interviews, then two firm receptions (at obscenely fancy places). This weekend is also the second week of training for Student Org #1: 9-5, both days. Oh man.

Last week I was sitting around in Joiner's room while she was out, blissfully watching hours and hours of TV, when I surfed my way onto a channel showing a documentary about how cows, pigs, and chickens are raised. After a few minutes of watching piglets anxiously nose about a dead and bloated companion, diseased cows with huge tumors being pulled off trucks to the slaughterhouse, and chicks being dumped by the carton onto breeding grounds, I was squicked out to the max and decided to take Double M's approach of avoiding meat unless there's good chance it's been raised humanely.

Mostly.

(I gotta have my pho once in a while.)

And today, further reason to do so presented itself in The New York Times. Some choice quotes from the article, which described criticism about the inadequacy of new FDA rules on animal feed, which supposedly are to try and stop the spread of mad cow disease:

"The new proposal would still allow animals to be fed material that some scientists consider potentially infectious, including the brains and spinal cords of young animals; the eyes, tonsils, intestines and nerves of old animals; chicken food and chicken dung swept up from the floors of poultry farms; scrapings from restaurant plates; and calf milk made from cow blood and fat."

Let us all note that: "In early 2004, the F.D.A. proposed banning letting cows eat poultry litter and plate waste, but the rules were never adopted."

Cows eat grass. Cows eat hay. Cows should not be eating other cows, much less chicken shit.

The folks in the industry say that if they don't feed the cows this stuff, it'll create tons of waste that'll have to be burned, which'll be expensive and bad for the environment.

You know, I used to think that if people were educated about the problems with raising cows, pigs, etc. on a mass scale, they'd stop eating meat, or at least eat less. I know I grew more conscious about eating meat after learning about the horrors of the slaughterhouse (where cows are sometimes still conscious while being skinned alive) and the industry. But just today I was talking with a guy in my hall about this documentary, and he said, "I know about it, but I just don't want to think about it." And off he went to make some turkey burgers. Huh.

RUSTING

Was reading Glamour or Elle or one of those rags the other day, and came upon an interview with Barbara Ehrenreich, who has written a new book about the hardships of white collar workers. She said that she thought employers wanted to see passion from their prospective employers, that the passion might be even more important than experience. But, she said, feigning passion is "psychologically corrosive" when you don't mean it.

Which is exactly what on-campus interviewing is all about! I've found out what I'm feeling: psychologically corroded.

I had only one interview today, with a lower-tier firm that nevertheless has done some really good work in the employment realm. It's really a crapshoot, how the interviewer will approach the 20-minute interview. I had one with whom I talked about Student Org #1 the entire time. I put another one on the defensive when I mentioned some bad news I'd heard about his firm, so he spent 10 minutes talking about that. One of the interviews I enjoyed was with someone who was hell bent on covering everything on my resume. Today's interviewer was pretty relaxed: we talked about California, Korean food, the oddness of the interviewing process, why I came to law school, and how humbling it was to see my friends in Korea work so hard for so few opportunities.

At this point, I have my "Why I Went to Law School" speech down pat -- I start them out at Club DOJ, lead 'em to my application in 2001, take a little detour into how lucky I am that Crimson let me defer for 3 years, and then fly into the alleyway in Hanoi where I decided, "What the heck, I'm gonna go" during that trip with The Ringleted One two years ago. Or something like that. It doesn't really answer the question, but no one's challenged it yet.

I approach most of the interviewers with a mix of solemnity, fast-talking BS, and as much irreverence as I could get in. I try to throw in a "And you?" at the end of some answers, so as to elicit some talk from them. With afternoon interviews, I usually start with a sympathetic, "What am I, number 15 or 16 for you today?"

Not counting this afternoon's interview, I am 9 for 9, so it seems to have worked. Again, the market I'm interviewing for is far less competitive than others, but I'm pleased insofar as one is always pleased when The Man pats you on the head (I always was and always will be a people-pleaser). I'm less pleased about the psychological corrosion, of course.

Found out from my aunt and uncle today that my mother has moved out of their house into a high school friend's apartment. Thanks for letting me know, guys.

I am reminded of the summer when bigbro and I were kids and living at my aunt's house in Tacoma, as we often did during the summers, and our parents called to say, "We moved from Santa Barbara to L.A. -- send the kids back to L.A."

The parenting lessons of today are just that -- of today.

Bit of a weird weekend. Trained 1Ls for Student Org #2 yesterday, then took them out for dinner at a local pub. There was one guy who said he couldn't do the research we assigned without understanding what the ultimate purpose was. Which I sympathize with, but dude. Stop fighting the hypothetical and just do the freakin' assignment like the other good boys and girls.

My co-coordinator kept apologizing for the lack of information, to the point where last year's coordinator, when she left, whispered to me: "You guys don't need to keep apologizing. This is exactly like other projects we get from NGOs -- they're vague and unfocused some times."

In part I think it was a male-female communication issue: he felt he was not given enough direction and assumed this was an issue we should all address, while my co-coordinator and I felt he was trying to undermine our authority a little bit. No one else in the group made much of a fuss about the assignment -- they just did it.

I don't think we handled it very well, and that was frustrating. In retrospect, I think we should have addressed it and then, when he continued to question the assignment, we could have just had a private discussion about it. It's hard when you aren't comfortable with asserting authority. Personally, I haven't done that many projects and don't have much background in this topic area, so I didn't feel I had the knowledge to justify the assignment.

There was a guy like this in training last weekend, too, for Student Org #1. Independent thinkers? Or troublemakers? At least the guy yesterday didn't have an attitude of disdain that characterized the guy last week.

So, a little weird yesterday. Then went to Def and Stave's for some wine and snacks, as did the French King and Mrs. Stave's sister. Being married or otherwise taken, they were intrigued by the blind date I would be having the next day (today). Nice, well-educated, driven fellow. Clearly shopping for a wife, as evidenced in comments about divorce ("a sign of failure") and places that are "great places to raise kids." Not stuff I'm ready for. I wonder if I'll ever be ready? And by then, will there be any guys my age left? I can't deal with someone as young as Friend is. But something about establishment also raises my hackles. I know I am privileged and fortunate to have the education I have and am undergoing, the opportunities I do, the experiences I've had. But I struggle with it. I am uncomfortable with people who take that all for granted. The spectre of my aunt and uncle, so frugal and humble, shadows me always.

I got a call from Friend tonight and deliberately didn't answer it, but when I checked the message later, it merely said, "Hey hk, it's Friend. Can you call me when you get this?"

So I did.

And I happened to be walking back home by his house, so we met.

And he said he wanted to go for it.

And I felt very sad all of a sudden.

Perhaps I should have been annoyed, or indignant, or angry, because it's been so long since the ambiguities in our relationship surfaced. And I did feel annoyed, especially when we resolved everything and he asked a last question about on-campus interviewing, for crissakes, but mostly I felt like I wanted to cry, because even though I don't think we would have been a good couple (for many, many reasons), there was a time when I would have been receptive to it, and Friend's long, drawn-out thought process about it killed any enthusiasm I might have felt for the option. And then to realize that we were in different stages of life and that he is very young -- that slammed the coffin shut and drove in the nails.

I told him again that I wouldn't be seeing him for a while, and we hugged good bye. But as I walked around the corner to get to my house, he ran up to me again and tapped me on the shoulder.

"I don't want you to think it's because you said no," he said.

"I don't think that."

"And me taking so long -- it's not a reflection on you."

I almost said, "No, it's a reflection on you," but I didn't. "I don't think that," I said instead. And he smiled apologetically and tentatively, and said, "Okay, then -- bye."

And hk went inside her building, feeling sad about bad timing and missed chances. Even ones that wouldn't have yielded anything.