Interview Stories

Non-Sequiturs: 11.29.06

* After being subjected to Prince Charles’s tampon metaphors, is there really anything more to know about the Royal Family? [The Guardian]
* Pussy. Labia. Vagina. (Yeah, I too know way too much about Britney’s and, thanks to the above, Camilla’s.) Salary? Buzz! That word is taboo. [Feminist Law Professors]
* But I think in Virginia, it’s still okay to give the homeless transfat. [Southern Appeal; Washington Post]
* Let me save you the trouble: they all taste like the industrial cupcakes moms have been buying for grade school birthdays since the post-war era. So to protect such cupcakes would be like trademarking sawdust. [Madisonian]
* Professor Slater wants you to know that the interviewing-as-dating analogy is inaccurate. Unless you get drunk and end up in the apartment of the interviewer after he tells you he’s in a band. [PrawfsBlawg]

nose ring nosering Above the Law.jpgOver the years, law firms have become more relaxed about the attire and appearance of their associates. But there are limits. From the National Law Journal:

“It’s really hard,” said [hiring partner Matthew] Jones, with Duane Morris. He recently interviewed 18 University of Virginia School of Law students in about six hours. He had 15 minutes to eat lunch.

Still, sometimes making a decision is not too difficult. “I had someone come into an interview with a nose ring,” Jones said. “I liked her, but how could I present her to a senior partner?”

To paraphrase Alicia Silverstone in Clueless: “Dee, when you have a Biglaw interview, take out your nose ring.”
(Query: Should the NALP promulgate a rule protecting job applicants with noserings?)
National Firms Digging Deeper Into Class Ranks and on New Campuses Too [NYLawyer.com]
Memorable Quotes from Clueless [IMDb]

Non-Sequiturs: 11.13.06

* In law school, a burrito was not only a sandwich, but breakfast, lunch and dinner. And midnight snack. [AP via Yahoo! News]
* When you have too much self-respect for a reunion tour, or another farewell tour is just not feasible, or you haven’t securitized your music catalog, then this may be your last recourse. Money wouldn’t be an issue if you had ODed at age 27. [AP via MSNBC]
* It took an attorney’s flashing to rouse suburban moms to fight for stricter indecent exposure laws. This would be a funny “Desperate Housewives” storyline; they could also hire this guy back. [King County Journal]
* Privilege, murder, a Kennedy… and also an episode of Cold Case. [CNN]
* Not funny. But your anecdotes can be. So send them our way. If it’s really bad, find a (real) lawyer. [Law.com]

thermostat Above the Law Legal Blog.jpgRemember the slogan for those Dry Idea deodorant commercials, “Never Let Them See You Sweat”? It’s good advice for both interviewers and interviewees. That’s why, in ATL’s Top Ten Interview Tips, we recommend the use of deodorant (tip #5).
Anyway, here’s our next interview horror story:

At the start of my 2L year, I went to New York City for one of those giant screening interview events at a local hotel. My morning and early afternoon interviews were fine and uneventful, and I expected nothing less going into my 3:30 interview with a top-ranked New York law firm. I knocked on the hotel room door at the appointed hour, straightened my suit, and waited.

I knew something was seriously awry the moment the interviewer opened the door. Wafts of hot, humid air poured out into the air-conditioned hallway. The interviewer was sweating profusely, and wiping his dripping forehead. I was completely aghast.

Compliments to our correspondent for the vivid storytelling. We can practically see — and smell — the scene before us.

The interviewer just looked at me. He didn’t introduce himself or put out his hand. Instead, he said, “I swear to God, if you can tell me where the thermostat is in this f*****g hotel room, I will give you an offer right now.”

Fortunately for me, fifteen minutes earlier, another interviewer had actually paused in the middle of our interview and gotten up to adjust the temperature in the room. So, without hesitation, I told the wilting lawyer standing in front of me: “I think it’s behind the bedroom door.” He stared at me for another moment, then left me standing in the entryway as he wandered over to the bedroom.

Then there were a few moments of silence, during which I could tell that (a) he had found the thermostat, and (b) he was contemplating the deal he had just made me. At this point, I was contemplating whether (a) he was so used to working in a sweatshop that it hadn’t occurred to him to adjust the temperature earlier, or (b) he was just a moron. Neither possibility boded well for the firm.

Finally, he came back and said, “Well, you’re clearly getting a callback, so let’s just make this brief.” He led me to a table, asked me a couple of softball questions, then sent me on my way.

Great story, eh? And here’s the ending:

I got the callback. I didn’t take it.

Hot in Herre [Wikipedia]
Earlier: Prior Interview Horror Stories (scroll down)
A PSA from ATL: Top Ten Interview Tips

world trade center above_the_law royalty_free.jpgNeither rain, nor snow, nor the largest terrorist attack in U.S. history will keep certain lawyers from their work. Here is our next interview anecdote:

I was a 2L at a western law school in the 2001-2002 school year. September was, of course, prime interviewing season, and there were usually 5-10 firms interviewing at the school on any given morning.

On the morning of September 11, I had an interview scheduled for 10:00 with a well-respected, midsize law firm. After watching the horror in New York on TV for a few hours that morning, I assumed that life would be postponed for a few days, while the country reacted and sorted itself out.

Not having anywhere else to go, I headed over to the law school to find some sense of community. While walking the halls, I noticed that even though all of the other firms had cancelled their interviews for the day, one firm was still going forward — the firm I was scheduled to interview with, in just five minutes.

I didn’t have time to change, so I had no choice but to walk into the interview in jeans and a t-shirt. After initial pleasantries, I asked the interviewer whether he really wanted to do this now, given that a national tragedy was unfolding. He said that he did, and that he wouldn’t postpone it even for an hour — he had a lot of work to do that day, and he wanted to get back to the office.

Needless to say, my heart wasn’t really into talking about my résumé for twenty minutes on a day of national mourning. The interview was a disaster, and I didn’t get an offer.

The interviewer’s philosophy: If we suspend on-campus interviewing on September 11, then the terrorists have won.
Earlier: Prior Interview Horror Stories (scroll down)

fire fire fire beavis butthead above_the_law.jpgThis next interview horror story isn’t a true “horror” story. It starts off like a horror story, but then — well, just read it yourself:

I had an on-campus interview at 10 AM on Monday for a well-known litigation firm in Orange County. At 10 PM on Sunday evening, my apartment building caught on fire, and my girlfriend and I had to evacuate. We stayed the night at a hotel, and found out the next morning that they were not letting residents back into the building until around noon.

I notified our Career Services Office, but for whatever reason they couldn’t contact the interviewer and let him know I would be missing the interview. Once we were let back into our apartment (with a police escort), we were glad to know that neither our apartment nor our belongings suffered any damage.

Unfortunately, I missed the interview, and I was ready to write it off as a loss. I went to school later that day to try and see if the interviewer was still available to meet with me. I knocked on the door, wearing only a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. (I don’t know what I was thinking, but I forgot to grab my interview monkey-suit in the melee — probably because a cop was standing over my shoulder telling me only to gather “essential” items.)

Showing up to speak with an interviewer in a T-shirt and flip-flops? That’s even worse than what this guy did. Then again, excuses don’t get much better than “I was driven from my apartment building by a raging inferno.”
(But query whether there is ever any good reason to wear flip-flops in public, unless you’re at the beach. And you certainly wouldn’t wear flip-flops to the Supreme Court.)
Back to the story:

The interviewer was stunned but understanding, and we talked for about 20 minutes. During the interview, the interviewer said that if he’d had a choice, he’d rather be wearing a t-shirt and flip-flops, and not to worry about it. Even though he was accommodating, I still felt like an idiot.

The outcome? I received a call-back, and eventually an offer from that firm. (I declined the offer though.)

So what started off as an interview horror story turned into an interview happy story. Just the kind of inspirational tale you need on a Tuesday morning, with so much of the work week still stretching out before you.
Earlier: Prior Interview Horror Stories (scroll down)

little person above_the_law.jpgThis next interview story has something for everyone. Both the interviewer and the interviewee can be made fun of. Here you go:

A friend of mine was interviewing at a big law firm. As a 1L who basically went straight through from undergrad, his résumé is not terribly long, though it has some interesting tidbits (working at the British Museum and elsewhere around the world). He also listed the old standby of “excellent oral and written communication skills,” more as a space filler than anything else.

Time for some ATL career advice: Do NOT boast of “excellent oral and written communication skills” in your résumé. It’s total chaff. You’re a law student or lawyer; it goes without saying that your communication skills are strong (or at least you think they are, or wouldn’t admit it if they weren’t).
Back to the story:

The firm utilizes teams of interviewers, so he is sitting across from five attorneys who are peppering him with questions. Of course, one of the interviewers, probably a litigator, decides to be the hardass and asks: “What do you mean on your résumé when you list excellent oral and written communication skills?”

Without missing a beat, my sarcastic and quick-witted friend answers: “Haven’t you understood everything I have said so far?”

The other four interviewers burst out laughing, probably because the hardass was shown to be a fool. Needless to say, no offer.

HA!!! We like this story. The applicant erred by including the empty boast of “excellent oral and written communication skills” on his résumé. But then he redeemed himself beautifully, when one of his interviewers tried to expose its emptiness.
To be sure, the applicant pissed off the prick interviewer, thus torpedoing his chances of getting an offer. But we do love how he turned this job interview into a Beckett play, or a strange work of performance art. He’s our interview hero for the day.
Earlier: Prior Interview Horror Stories (scroll down)

sorry we're closed sign above the law.gifSupreme Court clerks, aka “the Elect,” are gods and goddesses of the legal profession. But as our latest interview horror story shows, they aren’t perfect — at least not all the time. Sometimes SCOTUS clerks let their lofty status go to their heads, treating the Great Unwashed like “the little people.”*
Check out our latest law firm interview war story:

Setting: Very mid-size city in a flyover state.
Firm: Litigation boutique where two members of the “Elect” worked.

Interviewee shows up for his interview and is forced to wait. His interview is with a name partner of the firm, a member of the Elect.

After waiting fifteen minutes or so for the partner to show up, his secretary escorts the interviewee into the partner’s office, where he’s finishing a call. As the secretary brings the interviewee in to sit, she also hands the partner his mail.

After a minute or two, the partner ends the call. The interviewee has been sitting there quietly the whole time, completely unacknowledged by the partner.

The partner then picks up his mail and starts going through it, while the interviewee sits there. The partner still has not said a word to the interviewee.

After several more minutes of the silent treatment, the interviewee finally gets up and leaves. At the reception desk, the interviewee is asked where he is going. His response, as he walks out the door: “I have seen everything I need to see to know about whether I want to work here.”

* If Leona Helmsley had clerked on the Supreme Court, her famous phrase would have been: “Only the little people don’t get $200,000 signing bonuses.”
Earlier: Prior Interview Horror Stories (scroll down)

woman with pearls above the law.gifThe Interview Horror Stories just keep on coming — and we love ‘em. So if you have one to share, please send it to us, by email.
Our latest tale concerns an interviewer who was, er, less than welcoming:

I had an interview [for a summer associate position] at a large, downtown DC law firm that specializes in financial services…. After my first tepid interview with the hiring partner, who talked a lot about “initiative” and “drive” and “adding value,” I was propelled into the office of one of the senior associates.

The associate let out a big sigh and rolled her eyes when I was introduced. Then, once the door was shut, she proceeded to give me the most hostile interview of my life, sneering at my journal membership and involvement in campus activities.

After shredding my résumé to bits, she gave me a halfhearted pitch for the firm, unenthusiastically listing benefits such as an in-house gym and “humane” billing hour requirements. As proof that the firm supposedly valued “work-life balance,” she mentioned that she was going on vacation the next day.

I didn’t particularly care about her vacation plans. But, trying to be polite, I said, “How nice. Where are you going?”

She reacted as though I had just asked for her Social Security number, credit score, and blood type. She shot me a suspicious glare, and backed her chair away a foot or so.

“Why do you need to know that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, confused. “I was just asking.”

“Well I’m just going with my husband somewhere, OK?”

“OK.”

The rest of the interview was spent in stilted, desultory talk about practice areas. After rotating through two more bland interviews (though thankfully not as bad as that one), I was out on the street, grateful to be free and horrified at what life must be like in that office.

It’s odd that our correspondent was interviewed by such an unpleasant person. The law firms tend to pick their most charming and attractive lawyers to handle recruiting interviews. They shield you from the crazies and the meanies until you arrive as a permanent associate — when there’s no turning back…
Thankfully, our story has a happy ending:

The next day I wrote the firm a letter asking them to remove me from consideration. I’ve since accepted an offer from a firm where the employees react normally to polite questions.

Earlier: Prior Interview Horror Stories (scroll down)

beggar with dog.jpgThis is the continuation of an interview horror story that we started earlier. You can read the prior installment here.
When we last left our hero, an applicant for a lateral position at a top Silicon Valley law firm, he had just said a bunch of completely boneheaded things at an interview lunch with two associates. Here’s what happened next:

[C]omfortable with our friendliness, the interviewee asked us whether he should make follow-up contact with the four other Biglaw firms who had interviewed him last month.

Obviously, this question is wrong on so many levels:

1. He’s asking us advice about getting a job with competitors;
2. He’s just informed us that four other BigLaws have passed on him;
3. Those other firms passed on him probably because he acted like this with their interviewers as well, thus showing an inability to learn from his mistakes; and
4. He didn’t have the judgment to realize points 1 through 3.

My friend, a far kinder person than I, attempted to formulate an answer. I told him firmly that he should not, and headed to the restroom.

Frighteningly enough, this isn’t the end of the story. It gets even worse:

When I returned to the table, my friend was repeatedly telling the candidate, “I’m sorry about your situation. I’m really really sorry.” After we drove back to the office and the candidate left, my friend pulled me aside and freaked out.

Apparently, while I was in the restroom, my friend was trying to console the candidate, telling him that it sounded like he got a raw deal. The candidate replied: “Well, YOU can make it right. Please give me a job. Please! Please!”

He literally begged for a position. My friend was trying to calm him down when I returned to the table.

Then Sally Struthers showed up and told the two associates: “All it takes to redeem this associate from a life of public-interest law poverty is $150,000 a year. For the cost of just two venti caramel frappuccinos, you could pay his dry cleaning bill for a day. Your decision about whether to give this applicant a good write-up could determine his tax bracket for the year. Please act now!”
Surprisingly enough, this story has a happy ending:

According to the state bar website, the candidate eventually did get a position at a decent MidLaw. Thus, if there is a silver lining to this, it’s that even begging, pathetic schmos can get hired somewhere so long as they passed the Bar.

Earlier: Interview Horror Stories: Don’t Make Him Beg (Part 1)

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