Stressed law students, please calm down or consider ingesting more fiber (i.e. lots of berries); I promise it does wonders for your complexion. My purpose in writing the post on Pillsbury's cowboy talk was NOT an attempt to defame that firm (it's probably a fine place for many), educate law students on "politically correct" language, or cause any major reaction. I was making light of an uncomfortable situation for me at a diversity career fair. Exaggeration is a coddling mother. I'm comfortable with people describing their own background or heritage how they choose, and I appreciate thoughtful, non-prejudicial differences of opinion regarding language used to describe different group identities. I was offended by my interviewer's language, not as an ignorant interviewee suffering from a deflated sense of self worth (not that any form of rejection doesn't sting the ego ever so slightly), but as a person who appreciates the history of his ancestors and values thoughtful, considerate word selection. I don't think my Dough Boy was racist (he was nice, even), but I do think he chose his words poorly, as his word choice was ambiguous for the majority of the conversation and offensive to me (this means you're free not to be offended). Steady...steady law students, breathe... Mostly, though, the post was a ridiculous description of an uncomfortable situation, not to be taken nearly as seriously as some of the angrier "guests" took it. Fortunately, I am one of the very lucky ones who has job security. Perhaps--though not likely-- if I was more worried about finding employment in biglaw next summer, I would have hesitated in posting what I suspected some of the more constipated members of the legal community would find troubling. Seriously--lighten up, Francis. All my love.

During a recent interview with Pillsbury at a DIVERSITY career fair in San Francisco, I thought I might have accidentally stumbled onto a John Wayne movie set in Sweetwater, Texas. In the middle of my interview, I asked my interviewer about the pro bono work at Pillsbury. He proudly responded by saying Pillsbury helped "Indians" with family law. I assumed he meant actual Indians--people from India, the country. Silly me. As he continued, repeatedly saying Pillsbury worked with "Indians," he finally said "When the tribes have a dispute with the federal government." Shocked, I first thought I had been transported from a diversity career fair in Northern California to the Hillbilly Firm "Get 'Er Done" Convention. Needless to say, I was offended and grew anxious. My great grandmother was half Cherokee. But I kept my cool. Saying something would mean pointing out the absent mindedness at best and racial prejudice at worst, of the person who decides if I get a callback. Plus, maybe he just made an honest mistake or had difficulty pronouncing the word "American," to place as a prefix to all his Indian talk. After the interview, I thought about notifying everyone I could think of to let them know some partner had slipped through the cracks and that they should put him back in the barn with the horses and cows, lock the doors this time, and make sure he doesn't escape again. I waited on it, and ultimately decided I would talk to someone in the firm's diversity committee if granted a callback, or alternatively email the recruiting manager if given the good ole' fashioned you're not good enough for us rejection letter. The letter came. My first of the recruitment season. I emailed the recruiting manager, whom I will call Buffy. Buffy apologized for my grief in her reply email and asked me for my phone number and a good time for a member of the diversity committee to call me to discuss the matter. I did not reply to the email in the morning as I was in a rush to get to school and work on my journal. During my journal working hours, my phone rang from a San Francisco phone number. I answered with a pleasant yet professional, "hello." The caller's response was, "Is this Jeff?" I told him it was me and he went into a forced thank you speech for letting him, as a partner on the diversity committee, know of my concerns. He said he valued my suggestion that interviewers be trained in using language that respects people's backgrounds and sensitivities. 7th grade me says, "Duh! Do I get a consultation bonus as a parting gift?" It was a diversity career fair, but I guess the Dough Boys missed the memo, busy eating their cookies. He then went on to say that he talked to my interviewer who was surprised I was upset and that he did not at all notice my adverse response to his language problem during the interview. My Diversity Dough Boy Apologizer said "If you were upset, you sure fooled him. He's always been committed to promoting diversity." I am not kidding. This is a real quote. In retrospect, I'm thinking I should have turned the back of my resume into a sign and begun marching around the interview room protesting the socio-political consequences of European colonialism and the oppression of American Indians since the European invasion. Or alternatively, begun crying in somber remembrance of the Trail of Tears and the White Man's oppression of my ancestors. Shortly after Dough Boy's compliment of my acting skills, I hung up. Seriously, who calls a complete stranger in the middle of the day, doesn't ask if it's a good time, questions the person's integrity, then accidentally forgets to ever actually apologize for insensitive comments? In short, even if Pillsbury asked me to join them next summer, I would have to shoot my metaphorical arrow at their ass (I mean offer). I don't work well without air conditioning and call me Paris, but barns just aren't my thing. My only surprise is that my not so cuddly Interviewer Dough Boy did not connect my Outlaw membership to all the great work Pillsbury does for all the queers and homos in this country.