And signs and signs

Two stories today.

I. The Return of the Coat

This morning I dragged myself out of bed at 8:30 am, having gone to sleep at 2 am, which followed having gotten drunk at the Destroyer's apartment until midnight. I blearily made my way over to the school shrink's office, where I had a very unproductive intro session. Usually the first shrink session after a long while (and it has been a while -- I don't think I've seen her since 1L year) is extremely cathartic. You just dump the anguish from your mind into the therapist's notebook, and it's lovely.

But this morning wasn't so good. I think she was missing the point of what I was saying, offering suggestions rather than just listening. Whatever. Anyway, I had about 15 minutes before class after the session, so I went over to a computer cluster in the tunnels, as it was pouring rain, and checked my email. A few minutes before class, I went to the bathroom a few steps away, leaving my corporations book, cup of coffee, and my raincoat by the computer.

I came out of the bathroom and my raincoat was gone.

Now, the raincoat is a run-of-the-mill beige trench. The only possible reason someone might want it is the pattern inside -- it looks like a Burberry plaid. And since I know now (because I just looked it up) that a woman's Burberry trench will run you a cool grand, I can see why someone might have taken the opportunity to scoop up a ridiculously overpriced raincoat. It was pouring rain outside.

Of course, my raincoat is NOT a Burberry. It's a deeply, deeply knocked-off version that I got in Seoul three years ago for about $35. It's sort of water...resistant. Not waterproof. It's too long in length and I've been meaning to get it hemmed forever, not to mention the sleeves, which are also too long, and dammit, it was a freakin' cheapo knockoff. AND it was raining! What kind of person steals someone else's raincoat when it's pouring outside?

On top of the gloomy and ineffective therapy session, and the 10th day of rain in a row, the theft of my raincoat was pretty depressing, and I trudged to class defeatedly. While the professor lectured, I thought about how I'd admired that trench on Maiko, my good friend in Korea, and how she'd taken me back to the place where she'd purchased it, and persuaded me to buy it, and said with a sweet smile: "I'll think of you walking around the Crimson Law campus next year with that trench on." And I felt pretty freakin' sad about it.

Corporations is two hours long, and in the middle we take a break. So like a woman obsessed, I decide to go back to the scene of the crime... where I find my coat neatly draped over the swivel chair in front of the computer I had been using that morning.

I like to think that some label whore came along, scooped up the jacket, discovered it was NOT Burberry, and -- kindly! -- instead of dumping it in the trash, replaced it where she'd found it. Which -- like, fuck you, label whore! But also -- well, uh, thanks, label whore.

What was this a sign of? I lost something valuable (a trench, a direction in life that didn't involve law) that I didn't know I valued. But by the grace of some label whore, I got it back. Maybe I'll get that other thing back too.

(Okay, it's a stretch. Shoot me.)

II. Rejection

I got a message from the recruiter from the federal agency I interviewed with last month saying that she'd like to discuss the hiring situation. It turned out that all 10 of their summer interns had chosen to come back -- plus someone who had clerked for a year and whom they hadn't expected to come back. So -- 110% rate of return! Damn impressive, and I told the recruiter so.

The recruiter was awfully nice, and sounded genuinely regretful that she couldn't offer me a position. We exchanged pleasantries for a minute or two and then hung up.

So it's just the firms now.

Sign: So it's just the firms now.

III. The Yeah-I-Lied-It's-Actually-Three-Stories Story

I generally think of my negotiations seminar as annoying. But tonight three people from the NYPD Hostage Negotiator Unit put on an AMAZING, KICK-ASS demonstration. They altered their usual hostage situation, acting out a scenario where a Crimson professor starts acting very hostile toward a student with whom he had an affair whom he believes has betrayed their affair to the school newspaper.

First, a couple students tried their hand at negotiating with the "professor," with the class acting as coaches. Then one of the actual hostage negotiators played the negotiator, and it was fucking awesome. Of course, it's a role-play, and there's a script, but the way the female negotiator controlled the situation, empathized with the professor and got him to trust her was nothing short of brilliant.

I had dinner with one of the LLMs after the class, who is a judge in Singapore and mediates in her courtroom, and told her how much more interesting this was than when the former president of Paraguay came and talked to us about his negotiation with the president of Peru about a volatile border dispute. Yes, the NYPD demo was much more dramatic, but the substance of the negotiation was also much more compelling to me.

The LLM nodded, and summed up my interests: "So you don't want to negotiate commercial deals or political treaties. You're interested in the human element. You'd be a great community mediator!"

Which is true. I don't want to broker big deals that get featured on the front page of the Wall Street Journal. I don't want to advise leaders of countries on how to end a conflict. The first would bore and terrify me, the second would overwhelm and terrify me.

But oh, the struggles and travails of regular life -- that's what's interesting. Who hasn't thought about cheating on significant other? Who hasn't felt shame? Who hasn't felt rage?

The beautiful thing? So often the key is just making the person feel like they've been heard. The NYPD hostage negotiator tonight used a mix of authority, understanding and patience to bring the hostage taker out of the room. And all the while, she was pressed up against the door, listening intently, listening, listening.

Well. I'm not about to become a hostage negotiator. For one, you need 12 years of experience as a cop before you can even apply to become one. But ... food for thought.