Update / Clarification: Some commenters have complained about a formatting problem in an earlier version of this post. If you encountered this formatting problem, it’s time for you to enter the 21st century, ditch Internet Explorer, and adopt a better browser, like Firefox (download it here). Or get a Mac.
But just for the record, the formatting error was your editor’s fault, not that of FROLIC & DETOUR. We apologize for the mistake (which you should not hold against F&D).
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After Tuesday’s discussion, readers submitted some beautiful examples of the bureaucratic glory that is character and fitness:

On my 2003 application I reported that I had lived in one location until “June 1996″ and another location starting “July 1996.” I got a call saying I had failed to account for where I lived for almost two months. When I asked them what they meant, they said they were missing addresses for the period between June 2, 1996 and July 30, 1996.

I got grief from C&F for failing to disclose a citation for failure to wear a seatbelt. It was a $10 ticket that I got 6 years before applying to the bar.

And my personal favorite:

When asked why I left the Dean campaign I wrote “Iowa, the Scream.” They asked for more details.

Thanks for the stories. But since this is the last post of ATL Idol, I’m cutting to the chase. It was clear from Tuesday’s comments that readers were more interested in my character than in character & fitness. So let’s talk about that.
To clear up some misconceptions, I’m not Miss Alli/Linda Holmes. I have a B.A. and J.D. from Harvard, and I don’t know whether I know Sophist. I really did interview fired biglaw partners who knew I was writing for ATL (Lat knows who they are). I’m done with legal practice whether I’m the Idol or not. And whatever happens this weekend, I’m grateful to all the voters who think my garbage stinks a little bit less than the competition’s garbage. I feel like a bacterium that survived a three-week penicillin bath.
Finally, I have to address the reader accusation that I am an anti-Semite. I have to admit, this one is true. Those schmucks in my mishpocheh give me nothing but tsuris.
[Ed. note: This post is by FROLIC & DETOUR, one of the finalists in ATL Idol, the "reality blogging" competition that will determine ATL's next editor. It is marked with Frolic & Detour's avatar (at right).]

[Ed. note: This post is by FROLIC & DETOUR, one of the finalists in ATL Idol, the "reality blogging" competition that will determine ATL's next editor. It is marked with Frolic & Detour's avatar (at right).]
It’s puzzling that lawyers have a reputation as a bunch of thieving shysters. After all, we have to prove our character and fitness before joining the profession. Unlike, say, doctors, lawyers’ unique responsibilities demand high moral standards as well as professional skill. Only the pure in heart can be allowed to carry the briefcase.
Yes, 3Ls, for a mere $815 (0r more), expert bureaucrats will judge your moral merit. Along with the occasional white supremacist, state C&F committees weed out sinners great and small. Unpaid parking tickets? They’re on it. Remember that security deposit on your 1999 summer share? They do.
Maybe you didn’t think that a drunken tailgate from sophomore year would come back to haunt you. But we’ve already heard from several C&F veterans about the long-forgotten dramas that stood between them and their legal dreams:

I worked as a paralegal at a small New York firm in between college and law school. After six months, I got sick of picking up sushi and making copies, so I quit. The firm was furious that I was leaving, and they threatened to do whatever it took to keep me out of the bar. Sure enough, three and a half years later, they told California that I was a liar and not to be trusted. California admitted me anyway. Later in my career, I moved to New York. This firm again told the bar that I was a liar and made as much trouble as they could — almost six years after I quit.

I skipped a lot of class in high school and ended up with a bunch of Fs. I graduated from college with honors, then made it to a top-6 law school, with years of work experience along the way. I was 26 when I took the bar. C&F gave me huge problems over my high school academic record. They made me write a long apology and promise never to do it again. For real.

So readers, what vomit blotches stained your bar applications? How did you have to pay penance? Share in the comments or at frolicndetour.atl.idol@gmail.com, and we’ll discuss on Thursday.