|The Gravy Train Series {the episodic life of a summer associate), Pt. II: It's a Hard Knock Life.| Tuesday may have been the most devastating day of the summer. I had to leave the office at noon to go to Chelsea Piers, where I sat on a private terrace at Pier 61 with some of the other summer associates and a few junior associates sipping on wine, sunning ourselves and nibbling on little sandwiches. Then I spent the next few hours bowling and hitting golf balls on the driving range at Pier 59. All in the pursuit of good legal training. All this bliss was destroyed when I discovered, much to my and my fellow summers' chagrin, that Chelsea Piers does not permit drinking on the driving range. I mean, why do I even bother?
|The Gravy Train Series (the episodic life of a summer associate), Pt. I: Bedchecks.| I walked into my office today at about 8.29. If you are wondering, the work day at my law firm has a flexible start time of between 9 and 10am, and particularly trends to the later end in the practice group that I'm currently in. The red light of vmx death was blinking on my answering machine. "You have seven new messages. Please press 1 if you would like to hear your new messages." I hesitated for a good 10s. What on earth could have happened between my leaving the office at 6.30pm last night and coming in this morning that could warrant seven voicemails? It could only spell disaster. 1. ::crackly noise:: phone hangs up. 2. "Uh, yes, you have a delivery." 3. "Delivery." 4. "Mr. SWS2.1, could you please come downstairs and get your delivery." 5. "FOOD IN THE LOBBY HERE." 6. "Our delivery man is in the lobby waiting for you. Please go down to him and pick up your order." 7. "Could you come get your food from the lobby?" There were a total of about 4 different persons who left those seven messages, of varying genders and national origins. And I have never ordered food before. While the firm allows us to order food and charge it to our clients if we work past a certain hour, I had not worked that late last night, nor do I ever feel comfortable doing that (save for the handful of midnight nights I've pulled). As I deleted message after message, the thought occurred to me: Bedchecks. One partner had told me the story of how, when she was a junior associate, her partner would go around the offices around 9 or 10 at night and leave notes on the desks of people who weren't present, "Came by at X time, you weren't here." She, being the fire brand she is, retaliated (and advised me against doing the same) because she prefered to get in the office early (like around 7) and so one day left a note on his desk, "Came by at 7am, you weren't here." After that the bedchecks stopped. Just before I left to go home last night, my partner had an associate give me about 200pp of reading in preparation for a client meeting today that I had basically not known about until the associate was handing me the docs. So As the "Message deleted" messages started to mount, it began to dawn on me, "T knew he'd just given me hours of reading to do, maybe he thought Ishouldhave stayed in the office to do it and should have been here late enough to be able to order food, maybe he came by, saw that I was not here, and rather than leave a post it note, ordered food in my name, knowing that a flurry of vmx's would come my way." It's a completely ridiculous theory, except...How did they know my name?
|"If it were a snake, it would have bitten me."| So I've been told LOTS recently that I haven't posted in a while. People have also been telling me that I'm black and like cupcakes. I guess it's that time of year when people state the obvious. ;-) Anyhoo, I haven't written in a while because I haven't really had much to say. Law school kinda kicked my butt this year, but mostly I think 'cause I left it out there to be kicked, and my last few posts were big snoozers, IMO. But this morning inspiration struck -- well, actually, a bunch of voicemails, but same diff. in this information age -- if it were a snake, it would have bitten me. This summer is crazy and not really reality, and that seems ripe for commentary. So, for the next few weeks, at least, there will be regular postings, "The Gravy Train Series." I hope you enjoy.
I went to an Ivy League undergrad.
I go to a top NYC law school.
I date men (well...).
I live in Bed-Stuy.
I don't need more to say,
just more room to say it.
Etc.