Notes from the Breadline: And So Begins the Task
Ed. note: Welcome to the latest installment of “Notes from the Breadline,” a column by a laid-off lawyer in New York. Prior columns are collected here. You can reach Roxana St. Thomas by email, at roxanastthomas@gmail.com, or find her on Facebook.
After a few weeks of unemployment, I begin to wonder whether some sort of sporadic dysfunction is affecting my ability to receive email. Specifically, while I am able to peruse every available resource for potential job openings, the résumés I submit seem to drop into an online supernova black hole. Occasionally, I get a confirmation message indicating that my résumé has been received, but, as a general matter, I hear nothing but the sound of silence.
Where do they go? I wonder. Are they floating lazily in space, along with billions of unwanted headshots submitted by New York’s considerable legion of actor/singer/dancer/waiters? Are they in a virtual file cabinet somewhere, turning virtually yellow and brittle at the edges? Or do they go straight into a giant “deleted items” folder? Perhaps the beleaguered legal employers, in an effort to capitalize on economies of scale, have set up a single, huge data landfill, where cover letters indicating a willingness to be “flexible as to class year,” accompanied by finely honed (and embellished) résumés, can be gathered and stored. If the shrinking corps of presently-employed lawyers is wiped out by bird flu, raptured, or disabled by an epidemic of carpal tunnel syndrome, they will definitely get back to us … right?
So I am pleasantly surprised when I get an email from a potential employer, asking me whether I am available for a telephone interview. The job, which I heard about through a friend, is in the legal department of a publishing company, and although they are looking for an experienced litigator, the position does not involve actual practice. A year ago, I would not have considered it; but, given my present circumstances, I am delighted. I respond to the HR person’s email, wondering how to temper my desperation enough to avoid sounding, well, desperate. I settle on an answer that reflects both desperation and lawyerly faux courtesy, telling her that I am available later that day, the next morning, any time the following day, “or whatever works for you.” She schedules the phone interview, which will be conducted by Scott, the lawyer who heads the department, for the following morning.
Find out how Roxana’s chat with Scott went, after the jump.
My conversation with Scott seems to go well, although there is something strange about engaging in the awkwardly formal dialogue of an interview while pacing my tiny apartment, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt. At one point, I notice that one of the cats is preparing to barf on the newly-washed slipcover. “Get off!!” I mouth ferociously, even though I have never known the cat to respond to non-verbal cues. I try to swat him away, but (as cats invariably do) he digs in, affixing himself to the couch and letting out an indignant wail. Scott pauses for a moment and asks me if I need to tend to my baby. “Oh,” I say. “I don’t have a baby.” He sounds confused for a moment, and then presses on.
Scott tells me that, although it is a non-practice position, they are looking for someone with extensive litigation experience. He grills me about each line of my résumé, and I talk on and on, answering with as much detail as I can muster. He returns repeatedly, however, to whether the matters (or types of matters) referenced resulted in “actual trials.” When I have exhausted my tales of relevant experience and anecdotes of marginally relevant experiences, I tell him that a lot of cases, particularly in federal court, do not actually go to trial. “Hm,” he says, sounding mildly surprised. “Is that so?” Great, I think. I am talking to someone whose idea of litigation is based on Law & Order. The thought has barely finished forming in my mind when he says, “I always thought litigation would be really exciting. Like on Law & Order.”
For starters, I think, the Law & Order attorneys are free to make splashy, dramatic speeches to the judge and jury because, in the jurisdiction of Televisionland, evidentiary principles — with the possible exception of the hearsay rule — seem not to exist. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a TV lawyer plowing through a box of documents or staring, bleary-eyed, at Summation for the ninth straight hour. But why focus on the minutiae? “Well,” I say lamely, “they tend to skip over a lot of the less interesting aspects of litigation on TV.” Although I think we had a good rapport, I get off the phone feeling discouraged. I am not sure exactly what they are looking for, but I am sure that, given the extant talent pool (which is huge), they will find someone who has it. Whether that person will be me seems much less certain.
In the next two days, three recruiters call to tell me that they have a “great lead!” on a position. It turns out to be the same position as the one I have just interviewed for. One of the recruiters tells me that he has had several candidates interview for the job already, and that, if the company is interested, they will arrange an in-house meeting. “I have to tell you, though,” he says, with a degree of honesty which, I suspect, is directly related to the fact that he will not be submitting my résumé for the position, “they’re being really selective, because, frankly, they can be. I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”
Agitated, I await word from the potential employer, which is beginning to feel like a potential date. I start to wonder whether, during the interview, I made any major faux pas — the telephone equivalent of having food in my teeth. When, a day later, I get an email from the company’s HR person, inquiring about my availability for an in-house interview, I am flooded with relief. I would like to think that the fear of rejection is not part of this process, but, I have to admit, it is. I wonder vaguely whether The Rules apply, but throw caution to the wind and tell her I am available “any time” for the next interview. The HR person writes back to suggest a day the following week.
The next day, Giovanna calls to tell me that she, too, has an interview next week. A former colleague of hers forwarded her résumé to a partner at a firm downtown, who arranged for her to come in. She is pleased, but apprehensive; the partner has a reputation for being somewhat abrasive. “You’ll do great!” I tell her, projecting a level of confidence I do not feel about my own prospects. I picture myself on a moving conveyor belt, along with the 6,000 other applicants with whom I am competing. I wonder whether, after being passed over, the rejects will fall into a giant smelter.
As the weekend approaches, I find myself growing increasingly unsettled. I have gone on countless job interviews over the course of my career, and have generally been unfazed by them. Suddenly, though, everything worries me. What if I don’t have what they’re looking for? What if I don’t do well in the interview? What if I am unable to convey how hard I would work, how much I want this job, how well I think I could do it? What should I wear? I do not recall ever having been as jangled as I am now. “Just relax,” Cliff tells me, assuring me that I’ll “do great!” in the interview. Besides, he says, “if they don’t like you, they’re assholes.” Maybe, I think, but I want those assholes to hire me.
It takes me a long time to fall asleep on Saturday night. Even though my interview is three days away, I am restless and anxious. I am worried about Giovanna. I wonder when, if this doesn’t work out, the next opportunity will come along. I try the age-old tactic of counting sheep, but in my state of confused semi-wakefulness, the sheep turn into associates — leaping over little fences, briefcases in hand, to interview for the position that I want.
In the middle of the night, something jolts me awake, and I sit bolt upright. I had no idea that such a thing was possible, outside of movies and television shows where people regularly wake up from bad dreams with an audible gasp, clutching the carefully-arranged sheet. My heart is pounding, and I feel as though I’ve just run up the stairs. It does not seem normal, although, I think, maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I just don’t know what a regular heartbeat is supposed to feel like. I root around, trying to find Cliff’s pulse. Nothing. In fact, his resting heart rate appears to be zero. Great, I think. In addition to everything else, Cliff is dead. Then I remember the four Iron Man finisher medals downstairs, and realize that his heart probably just powers down while he is sleeping, or clicks off, rendering him useless for comparative purposes. I turn to the dog. He opens one eye and gives me a look that says, “What’s the matter with you, stupid?” I fumble around, searching for his doggy heart, but he stretches and turns over, uninterested in my prodding. Confronted with my own ridiculousness, I lie down and try to will myself back to sleep.
Fortunately, by the time interview day rolls around, I have exhausted my own tolerance for angst, and thereby regained my composure. I have a moment of overwrought uncertainty, when I debate whether to wear a pantsuit or a skirt. Since it is only 18 degrees outside, I decide on the pantsuit. Perhaps my ability to make weather-appropriate clothing choices will redound to my benefit.
When I get to the office, which is in midtown, I realize how foreign the bustle of work life feels already. I make my way to the security desk, where a guard takes my information and tells me that I will need to wear a photo identification badge while I am in the building. “Look into the camera!” she says brightly, and I squint over her shoulder, unsure where the camera is. Moments later, she hands me a large photo of myself with my eyes closed, and orders me to hang it around my neck.
When I get upstairs, a minder meets me by the elevator. “Go to the coatroom and hang up your coat, and then wait on that blue chair,” she instructs me, gesturing toward a carefully arranged grouping of furniture, each piece of which is a different color. I do as she says, feeling somewhat dunce-like as I sit on my assigned chair, trying to arrange my hair over the picture around my neck, in which (I notice) I look both blind and hungry, since my mouth is hanging open.
Eventually, Scott comes out to fetch me. We go to a conference room, in which several grumpy employees are sprawled around the table, eating donuts. He shoos them out while I stand aside, a smile pasted on my face. I make a mental note to demonstrate, at some point, that I can, in fact, close my mouth. As it turns out, I have plenty of time to show off the range of my facial expressions; we spend the next 45 minutes reprising our telephone interview, which, I think, goes even more smoothly without the distraction of the retching cat. He is enthusiastic about my qualifications and nods eagerly when I talk about my experience, so that, by the time he leaves to get the next interviewer, I am feeling fairly confident. While I am waiting, I email Bo from my BlackBerry. “I think it’s going well,” I write. “And they have a really nice cafeteria.”
The next interviewer is a gangly man with a forlorn demeanor. “You look really familiar,” he says immediately. I do not recognize him, and I wrack my mind for where we might have met. I come up with nothing, and hope that he will drop it, thereby sparing me the discomfort of admitting that I do not remember him. Alas, it comes to him a moment later. “I know you from college!” he says. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course!” I say, thinking, as I do, “Oh, shit.” I cannot think of anything about our shared college experience that I would want a potential employer to be aware of. We reminisce for a moment, condensing more than a decade of life’s milestones into the equivalent of cocktail chatter. When we move on to the details of the job, his dolefulness returns. “I used to work at a Big Law Firm,” he tells me, “but I wasn’t going to do the partner thing, so I decided to move on. This isn’t as exciting as what I did at the firm, and it doesn’t pay nearly as much, but it’s okay. It’s good.” He sounds unconvinced. I am not sure what to say — “that sounds great!” or “just what I’m looking for!”? — but then he adds, “the lifestyle is a lot better. I leave at six every night, and I’ve never worked a weekend in the entire time I’ve been here.” In addition, he says, he doesn’t even have a BlackBerry. “That sounds great!” I respond.
Three more interviewers rotate in and out of the conference room before I am done. The interviewers grow progressively more junior, and the conversations shorter. They know that the substantive discussion has taken place, and by the time the last one asks me whether I have any questions, I am tempted to ask whether I can go home now. By the time Scott returns, I am exhausted. He seems pleased, and asks me when I would be available to start work. “Today!” I nearly blurt. They haven’t made an offer yet, so I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Still, I feel as though — despite my misgivings — the interview went well.
A day goes by, and then another. There is no word from Scott, or anyone at the company. A week passes. My heart sinks. When, finally, I see an email in my inbox from the company — not even the HR woman — I know without reading it that the news will not be good. “Dear Roxana,” it begins. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us about the available position. We make every effort to find the best person for every job at our company, and we regret to inform you that we will not be extending you an offer at this point. We appreciate your interest and wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.” The message ends, “Please do not reply to this email.” There is something vaguely insulting about its bland boilerplate.
I forward the message to Bo. “They’re assholes,” he writes back. On the bright side, he tells me later, since they are such assholes, I shouldn’t be offended that they didn’t think I was the “best person” for the job. “Clearly,” he says, “they didn’t think you were enough of an asshole.”
Maybe, I think. I guess I’ll keep working on it.
___________________________________________________________________________
Roxana St. Thomas is a laid-off lawyer living in New York. You can reach her by email, at roxanastthomas@gmail.com, or find her on Facebook.
(98) Comments
Comments
First Idiots!
Jones Day opened an office in Dubai this week. Smart firms expand during a recession.
Very nice post. Hang in there, Roxana!
If you got a job then there would be noone to distract me for five minutes every tues.
BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE!
Great column! I'm going to adopt the clearly-not-enough-of-an-asshole mantra the next time I get rejected. It feels cozier and more constructive than my current mantra of "fuck them."
interesting story, still don't like the prose embellishments. Less is more.
This was a great installment - getting better and better. I actually really look forward to seeing these in my RSS feed.
No more e-mail for me either. After working my head off in college & law school and for top law firm I'm out and out for the count. Killed myself for year & a half nights and weekends for the firm and had no life. Now I have an extended vacation. Looking for another type of life. This ain't it.
Roxana brings the funny. Good stuff.
Bravo, Roxana - some of your best work. Hilarious stuff.
A nice change of pace from some the recent columns, which were starting to get a little depressing / self-pitying.
I've enjoyed reading this series and I hope it continues. That being said, I also hope it doesn't, because it will mean you have found a job. Good luck!
Stories like this make me wonder if it's worthwhile leaving NYC. Putting aside the cost of living, the glut of highly qualified lawyers/bankers has to be making a job hunt more difficult in NYC then most elsewhere -- even in fields other than law.
Any stories/comments from those in other markets what laid off associates are doing and if it's as bad in places other than NYC?
TTTing of cat owners begin 3....2....1....
Roxana,
So you interviewed at Bloomberg, which incidentally has been resume farming, selectively interviewing and not hiring for the last 4 years. Its all a scam. Check out the class action against them. Good column - keep up the good work and good luck in your hunt.
Really entertaining column this week, Roxie.
15 - Very interesting comment....
Stories like this . . . oh, never mind.
Too long. Way too boring. Here's the short version for those of you who can't even make it through the whole article:
Applied for job. Got dinged. The end.
This was a pleasure to read. I'm emailing around to a few of my friends.
18, you suck. stop posting. the end.
Too long, did not read.
WAAYYYYYYY TOO MANY OF THESE POSTS.
NO
ONE
CARES
YOUR
WRITING
SUCKS
1. Good stuff, I enjoy reading it.
2. Hang in there.
3. And quit looking for a job and become a full-time writer. You've got the chops!
21, 22 - If you don't like these posts, don't read them.
Posting your negative comments is a waste of time (and just increases the pageviews for these posts).
(not that I read your posts, re: the writing sucks comment. just a presumption)
-22
what the fuck is up with the novellas that get posted up in this bitch sometimes?!?
It thought this was a news blog not a damn carnival of wannabe-writers. FYI - the reason you became a lawyer is because your prose sucks ass.
When I was a teenager i tried to volunteer for the ultimate job but was rejected. I never understood why and it always made me angry that it happened to me.
Did I miss the post where she started to sleep with Cliff? I thought he was identified as just a "friend" who is a partner at another firm. Now she's spending nights at his place?
Best series on ATL. (since Elie's crusade against half-bonuses. The enraged and accusatory tone of those posts was awesome.)
If you don't think it's interesting, don't read it. But saying her prose sucks? That's bulls**t.
13 - The market in DC is somewhat better. The firms are obviously out of the question, but there are many public interest and federal government options. The market isn't great, but probably better than NYC
Breadlines Cast of Characters:
Cliff = guy that Roxana is seeing.
Bo = friend who is a partner at another firm.
Giovanna = friend and former colleague / shopping buddy (who also got laid off).
She should start a belly dancing studio.
28 - Yeah, then I went back and looked at her old posts and remembered that Cliff is the guy she just stared seeing and sent an email to, not the same guy who's the partner.
Roxana - I like your posts but if there's such a long break between reintroducing characters, you gotta remind people who they are...
This is so poorly written it is embarassing.
I had to laugh over the "actual trial" experience request. I got that all the time when I've interviewed for positions and despite over 15 years in litigation, I've had the pleasure of participating in only two trials, both as second chair.
I worked on one other case that went to trial, but the client wanted "THE PARTNER" only to try the case (no one apparently wants to be the first case for an associate, but somehow they all want us to have trial experience), and the firm (a different one from my other 2 second chair cases) refused to allow me the non-billable time or time off to go and just watch.
Roxana is right that most cases (I'd say 95%) are settled or dismissed without a trial. Still no trials for me, but lots of successful summary judgments (which are far cheaper).
Your grate! All of us TTT'ers nede to stick twogether to show the smarty pants non-retard lawyurs that we are smart too! Not like everybody sez!!!!
If you want "actual trial experience," why not go work for a district attorney's office?
Even assistant U.S. attorneys don't get as much trial experience as they used to. Sure, the pay in a DA's office sucks. But if you want trial experience, that's where to go.
@ 32 - Thanks. I was confused.
The retching cat knew it first - - the job wasn't meant for you. This company sounds like "The Office" or "Happy Times" on Undead Like Me. Scott is stupid - - employers should never bluntly ask "when can you start" unless they are serious. Something like "should you be extended an offer, how soon could you start" would be more appropriate.
The hell with being a lawyer - - go do something more fun and rewarding (something that hopefully pays the bills).
15 - What is "resume farming"?
Lat:
Please either come back to ATL or get an Equity Private or Bess L. caliber writer to blog for this site. I am a litigator but consistently read Dealbreaker instead of ATL. You know why? Because Dealbreaker is about 1000 times funnier, more insightful and all-around better than this site has become. With so many readers, it's a shame that this site is so amatuerish now. Peace out amigo.
Waaaaaaahh. Sounds like a fairly normal experience.
Wait, who's Bo?
32 & 34: Thanks!
Regards,
28
32:
Your comment hadn't posted when I asked. Thanks.
-44
40 raises some good points. You might want to look into becoming a teacher or maybe a nurse/doctor. Lawyering/writing just isn't in the cards for you.
"Fortunately, by the time interview day rolls around, I have exhausted my own tolerance for angst, and thereby regained my composure."
This is insightful and well-put. You are a terrific writer. Don't let the haters get you down.
15 - You're right on the money.
I can't believe people still interview at Bloomberg. Don't do it!
Mystal & Co., can we have a poll on how shitcanned associates have fared or how they think they will fare? I feel like many of us are quite fucked, for a good while...
More fun than the last few, but Roxana is no astronomer or astrophysicist. I think she was going for "black hole" rather than "supernova".
Thank you! Such a great installment. I laughed out loud, which is what I try to do when I'm not moping, or doing phone interviews in my pajamas that go nowhere. Keep it coming.
Yo, I just bought a Breadlines t-shirt on Cafe Press. F**king awesome. I don't know if Roxie gets a cut, but even if not it's a cool logo.
What's the link to the Cafe Press page for Breadlines merchandise?
amazing. best episode yet. former detractor, now a fan. (still employed).
I like your pieces Roxanna. Good luck on the job hunt.
There are a lot of teaser remarks about Giovanna that are never run down. What about more details about her reaction during her firing meeting, where apparently she really let them have it?
What about a follow-up here about her interview with the abrasive partner?
These intriguing events are raised and then abandoned without resolution. It's maddening.
Also, post some pictures of the two of you necking.
good post, although I was hoping for a happy ending.
42, DB's success has a lot to do with its readers/commenters, who are often smart and funny, whereas ATL is a bunch of immature law students.
Given that this interview is that important, I'd recommend reading a few interviewing books (some of which give specific advice on how to prep for an in-house interview). Overpreparing never hurts.
Supernova is the wrong word for the metaphor. Not good. Lots of prolix, mixed imagery. But she's getting better, generally.
"please do not reply to this email"? OUCH, that is cold!
also, i too would like to know what resume farming is re: bloomberg. more info please?
um, you stated that you wouldn't have condescended to the job a year ago (when you were flying high at your fabulous doc review job at a firm that just kicked you to the curb), and you don't think that a potential employer would catch that vibe?
I've interviewed a lot of people at my job, and it is easy to tell when someone thinks they are above the position.
Get over your attitude or don't even bother interviewing for jobs you think are beneath you. You are wasting people's valuable time.
24, your comment makes no sense. What part of "did not read" do you not understand.
- 21
What's the deal with Bloomberg? I interviewed there, did a writing sample and then got dinged.
This is why people who want to be trial attorneys lateral to smaller firms where they'll get actual experience after 2nd year, and why people who want to be "litigators" stay in biglaw, review docs into their dotage.
Also wanting to know what resume farming is, I Googled it. After wading through many press releases to the effect of "UN helps Lebanon to Resume Farming", I found the following (for what it's worth):
http://forums.whirlpool.net.au/forum-replies-archive.cfm/937566.html
#54: the link the Cafe Press page for Breadline merchandise is:
http://www.cafepress.com/breadlines
yes - bloomberg it is - the id card around the neck is a dead give away.
the "legal" team at bloomberg is either a bunch of cock turds who couldn't hack it as real lawyers, and now they spend all their time "analyzing" data and "creating" some bullshit lexis nexis ripoff that no one wants to use because it has the name "bloomberg" attached to it, OR they are law grads who couldn't land a normal firm job and ended up crunching data like the other monkeys in those cubicles.
your writing could use work - you need to cut the descriptive narration - it's so unnecessary and takes away from any independent thought from the reader - but writing ain't your day job- don't get your head down - bloomberg blows and you will never actually end up practicing law if you end up there
So familiar, so familiar... Right, that's because I went on that same! interview. Hey there Bloomberg.
Whats will the Bloomberg hate? A friend works with the legal team there and it seems like its pretty much the best job ever - great offices, great hours, easy work, good pay, great perks and job security - what more can one ask for in this economy?
70 - job security? Then why are they interviewing your friend's REPLACEMENT?
71 - jealous much?
Who here can masturbate upside down? Who?
Who here can masturbate upside down? Who?
Who here can masturbate upside down? Who?
Anybody hang out in Syosset?
Roxana,
Ignore the haters, good column.
Could you elaborate a little more on the types of questions you were asked? Did you tell them that you were laid off? Did they ask you how you liked your old firm?
I miss my fellow associates. I hope you're in a better place.
To my fellow associates UHHHHHHHHHHH
Litigators ROCK!
Litigators ROCK!
When its a buyer's market, they can be ultra picky. Looks like that's what happened here. When there are so many folks chasing one job, the odds are usually stacked against the candidate.
Why is the bloomberg job so bad? They say that they pay up to $140k for a 9-6 writing job. Sounds great to me.
Now that people have outed the company as Bloomberg, it makes sense. My own experience was always that in-house jobs at NY media companies (like Time Warner or Viacom) were the toughest to get because people thought they were glamorous and were actually interested in the business. Most people I knew that landed these jobs came from V5 firms or were former SDNY AUSAs. So it made no sense to me that a lawyer in a hiring position would think litigation was like L&O.
But Bloomberg is hiring "legal analysts," not lawyers. Don't really know much about that particular job, but Bloomberg is a notoriously tough place to work. Salaries can be high but there is a "star" system and pay varies wildly within the same nominal position. The offices are nice and there is all-you-can-eat free food so that you never have to leave the office. The bad news is this food is counted as part of your pay package.
I'd also be worried about Bloomberg's legal business model. Their aim for years has been to have law firms buy the same $30K-a-year terminals that banks and hedge funds have. I don't think it was going too well even before the world started falling apart.
well written, although way too long and a bit hard to track in terms of who was who at times. I agree with those who say writing may be the career of choice for you. as for the criticism of your prose, those people are i'm sure very pretentious in their writing and pretention was totally lacking in your piece, which is great these days. flourish is out; readability--i.e., pushing the reader forward--and simple are in and you nailed it. I wish you the best in your job search; it is hard out there. I actually got to first-chair a trial and left my firm, which asked me to stay, voluntarily and I have other amazing experience like having clerked and am not having an easy time making a transition. hang in there and hold on to your writing style; it works.
Great post, Melissa Lafsky. But don't you think you should inform your readers that this all took place several years ago?
Yeah, Roxana, you should really be pursuing a writing career. You might start by spinning a timely tale on a popular web site. You might want to embellish it a bit and set it in Manhattan even though you only went there that one time with mom and dad.
Hang in there!
Roxana, please get over yourself. I want my five minutes back.
A little late to the party, but here goes.
Roxana - I hope you've learned something from your experience in BIGLAW. While you enjoyed the prestige of your former firm and the sizable paycheck, you learned almost nothing about litigation that would be of value to anyone outside of BIGLAW. This is the trap many associates fall into after being in BIGLAW for more than 2-3 years.
It doesn't appear that you want a career in litigation, which you probably fell into during your summer associate and/or 1st year of practice (translation: BIGLAW needed bodies in litigation). Right now, all it seems like is that you want a legal job - any legal job. This is NOT the right way to launch the next phase of your legal career. If you truly want a career in litigation, then you must seek out all opportunities to get substantive litigation experience (document review and filing out interrogatories/requests for production and requests for admission do not really count). What counts is the ability to take and defend depositions, argue motions in court, prepare for trial and actually trying cases. You can get some or all of this experience working in a small firm or as the lone associate to a solo practitioner. Assuming litigation is what you want, the main obstacle for you will probably be your ego. Going to BIGLAW to SMALLAW is a real blow to a high achiever like yourself, but like many other comments have mentioned, you need to get over yourself.
If a legal writing career is what you want, then you may be in the wrong town. There is a far greater demand in DC for legal/legislative analysts, or alternatively, you could seek out a position with a legal publisher (BNA books comes to mind), Westlaw or Lexis. You'll end up in a dead-end job with minimal pay raises, etc... but at least you'll have a job. Perhaps you will eventually write your own legal treatise (and collect royalties on it) or be the next John Grisham.
Who knows what the future holds for you. But there is one thing that's certain. You need to decide what it is you want.
88 (and others) - did you not read the f-ing column? She didn't say one thing about not having litigation experience; she was talking about how the dude who interviewed her didn't understand how litigation experience actually works. You are one of the obnoxious commenters who wants to give critical, nasty "advice" just to hear yourselves talk, because it usually has nothing to do with what's in the column.
88 (and others) - did you not read the f-ing column? She didn't say one thing about not having litigation experience; she was talking about how the dude who interviewed her didn't understand how litigation experience actually works. You are one of the obnoxious commenters who wants to give critical, nasty "advice" just to hear yourselves talk, because it usually has nothing to do with what's in the column.
88 (and others) - did you not read the f-ing column? She didn't say one thing about not having litigation experience; she was talking about how the dude who interviewed her didn't understand how litigation experience actually works. You are one of the obnoxious commenters who wants to give critical, nasty "advice" just to hear yourselves talk, because it usually has nothing to do with what's in the column.
To 89-91 (ever heard of waiting to see if your comment appears BEFORE reposting?)
Let me quote Roxana herself:
"Scott tells me that, although it is a non-practice position, they are looking for someone with extensive litigation experience. He grills me about each line of my résumé, and I talk on and on, answering with as much detail as I can muster. He returns repeatedly, however, to whether the matters (or types of matters) referenced resulted in "actual trials." When I have exhausted my tales of relevant experience and anecdotes of marginally relevant experiences, I tell him that a lot of cases, particularly in federal court, do not actually go to trial."
Pretty obvious that she doesn't have much in the way of practical, substantive litigation experience. If she did, then she would have mentioned it at some point during her interview.
Douchebag...
92: I don't think she says anywhere that doesn't have trial experience. I have trial experience, but I have a lot more litigation experience that didn't result in an "actual trial." If you're talking to a bozo who thinks that federal litigation involves something that looks like Law & Order, a couple of trials aren't going to seem like a lot.
you have a nice writing style with the appropriate blend of humor and seriousness....you should just be a writer; only suckers work in BigLaw anyway!
Roxana, you're a born writer. I probably could count on one hand (okay, maybe two) the times I have laughed out loud while reading something, and even fewer writers have actually made me worry about coffee coming out of my nose. This may be small consolation at the moment, but you may have found your true calling.
Gimme back that filet o' fish, etc.
So let me get this straight: you go on a second interview after an initial phone screen interview, and then (GASP) receive a rejection letter a few weeks later from an HR person that has less than a personal touch to it. Welcome to life. This type of thing happens to literally thousands of people in various professions every day.
Let me say that I have a lot of empathy for you and I appreciate what you are trying to accomplish with these posts. I was in a similar situation not too long ago and understand how difficult it is to be laid off and unemployed; which is why I read your work. Sharing insights on what it is like to be laid off is a good thing to do, particularly in tough economic times.
But with that said, come the fuck on. The "I can't believe something like this is happening to someone as special and smart as me" tone that is implicit in your writing is enough to make me vomit. The bottom line is, regardless of how many Ivy league degrees someone may have, 95% of us are replaceable in our current job. Its a hard truth, but its a fact.
Finding a job is difficult, and unfortunately, most potential employers will respond to the hard work and effort you put into an interview with a bullshit "thanks but no thanks" form letter. It sucks. And it happens to just about everyone who has ever tried to enter into a professional field. If nothing else, it should remind us all that no job should be taken for granted -- gainful employment is not a guarantee to anyone, regardless of credentials. What I find most surprising is that a person can be in their early 30s and not realize this.
My advice to you is to obviously keep your head up and keep trying. Sooner or later, a great opportunity will present itself. I can also assure you that once you do land a job, you will probably look back at this time you were unemployed and consider it a valuable growing experience. I know I did.
Good luck.
to #59: Awesome.
Yeah, this is a pretty typical interview scenario. You get excited for the interview, think you do well, they jiggle your balls with a little "when could you start?" comment then send the rejection email a few weeks later. I've been through the same process hundreds of time. Most BIGLAW associates have good grades at top schools and have never really had to interview that often or that well, so experiences like these will help you in the long run.
I actually had an interviewer ask me if I could name all the states that border Nebraska. Amazingly, by the end of the interview I was able to figure them all out. Yet I didn't get the job. What a cockmaster.