Sweet Hot Justice

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

Has your soul winced at all today? The kind of wince that feels like your junk has retreated deep into your abdomen in a way that makes you mostly nauseous… but also a little excited? No? Well, YOU’RE WELCOME, because here’s your chance. Actually, though, don’t thank me — thank a partner at one of Biglaw’s biggest and baddest firms, whose departure memo will leave track marks in your brain for at least the next three days.

Our partner, Garrett Waltzer, started off with the usual sentiments: After 24 years practicing at Skadden, in both Los Angeles and Palo Alto, he’s grateful for the professional opportunities, the terrific mentoring, the millions of dollars friendships he’s made, yada yada yada. Then he starts to tease us:

I have decided to start a new phase of my life. I do not plan to practice law.

Hm. OK. Well, Waltzer, what do you plan to do then? The answers await you after the jump, in what will likely heretofore be known as Chapter 1 of the Mid-Life Crisis Manual handed out to all new associates at Skadden and beyond….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “The Love Of A Woman Is More Valuable Than A Partnership At Skadden”

There are only two weeks remaining before New Year’s Eve. That means that my small-firm singles only have a short window to secure their New Year’s Eve date. And according to our survey, none of you will be working on the holiday, so you better get your act together.

Luckily for you, I am an expert at finding love. If you can believe it, this skill outshines my genius at doling out small-firm advice. And since I write under a pseudonym, none of you know that I am a 46-year-old spinster who has eggs in the freezer. Oh, well I guess you do now, but let’s get on with my tips for a successful small-firm seduction….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Size Matters: Small-Firm Love in the Afternoon”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

Bros of Biglaw, I love you, but I’m worried about you. You’re confused. You’re angry. And you should be. You’ve been told, by each other, that cementing your place as a certified cog in the Biglaw cash wheel would lead to a life slick with sick paychecks, sicker bonuses, and a bevy of models and bottles waiting to revel in the sickness with you.

But… it’s not working out for most of you so far. The disposable ladies aren’t lining up on their knees like you thought they might. One of you even reached out recently to Above the Law to ask — nay demand — some guidance as to how a Biglaw dudebro could cut through all the nonsense and just “find pretty, young, not-too-intelligent slam pieces on the reg.” Elie, bless his heart, advised that all you need to do is to basically target cutters with daddy issues. Decent advice, especially if you happen to live near your local mental ward, but I think Elie missed the mark. He neglected to mention the crucial, the obvious, the only way the average Biglaw Bro will ever have a real shot at slamming his way through the prettiest, not-too-intelligent-est “slam pieces” on the market:

Be an investment banker.

Or a hedge-fund guy. Or a TV producer. Or a cowboy. Pretty much anything besides a lawyer. Because, I hate to break it to you boys, but a young, hot, genuine grade-A “slam piece” (i.e., one trained in NY or LA) views a male lawyer with about as much interest as she views the Barney’s Warehouse Sale: It beats shopping at Target, but it’s still mostly hideous, mildly shameful, and a far cry from the real thing.

And this, guys, is why you have more in common with lady lawyers than you thought….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Biglaw Bros: Why Slam Pieces Don’t Want You”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

Let’s say you just woke up. After working at the firm until midnight last night, you’re already underslept and overtired and now you have to haul your ass out of bed and get ready for another day at the firm. You either:

(A) Get up; brush your teeth; spend 10-15 minutes prepping your face, hair and bod; get dressed in the dry-clean-only version of the same basic outfit and shoes that you would wear if you were going to the park for a weekend stroll; and leave for work.

or

(B) Get up; brush your teeth; spend 45-75 minutes prepping your face, hair and bod; get dressed in the diametrical opposite of the outfit and shoes that you would wear if you were going to the park for a weekend stroll; and leave for work.

In other words, you’re either (A) a man or (B) already screwed before you get out the door. Because if you have two X chromosomes and work at a law firm, you’re always going to be inherently less productive than your XY counterparts by sheer virtue of the fact that you have to get ready for work every morning. Even if you couldn’t care less about your appearance.

Unconvinced? Let’s take a look at how the actual numbers shake out….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “The Price of Getting Pretty: Productivity”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

If you’re the kind of person who has eyes, you’ve probably noticed that you can’t throw a vial full of Botox down an airshaft lately without hitting a cougar licking her wounds in an alley down below. Whether it’s the latest crop of is-Ashton-cheating-on-Demi rumors, or this week’s bombshell about Courtney “Cougar Town” Cox’s recent humiliation at the hands of her soon-to-be-ex hubby, Hollywood news has no shortage of commentary about famous cougars. But starlets aren’t the only targets when it comes to cougar conjecture. Even here in Big Law, the hunt for so-called cougars has been steadily on the rise.

In the past six days alone, I’ve heard not one, not two, but three anecdotes from or about lady lawyers and their brushes with cougardom. The ages of the women in question ranged from 41 to—wait for it—25. Not one is married. Not one is dating. Not one is what you might consider on the prowl or overtly sexy. All have law degrees. And they’re certainly not the only single female lawyers on the unwitting receiving end the “cougar” treatment. Everyone from yours truly to, yes, the newest ladies of the SCOTUS bench, that notorious hotbed of sexy-time shenanigans, have been slapped with the cougar card lately—whether earned or not.

Which raises the question: Does having a law degree automatically make you a cougar—regardless of your age or personality? Well, if the guys keeping score in and around Big Law are any indication, it looks like the answer, like it or not, is hell yes…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Does a J.D. Turn You Into a Cougar?”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

You may have noticed that people working in Big Law are more pissed off than usual lately. And I can’t say that I blame them. The threat of associate layoffs still looms large. A six-figure salary barely keeps you off food stamps. White shoe firms are crawling with bed bugs. And herpes. But it looks like there’s a new kid on the block — a pair of kids, actually — gaining traction as the latest target for Big Law acrimony, at least if the state of affairs in and around my firm is any indication: Boobs. Or more to the point, how front and center they should be when it comes to dressing for work.

Now, arguments over appropriate sartorial choices for the workplace, breast-related or otherwise, are nothing new. Panels have been convened over them. Entire websites have been launched about them. Lawsuits have been waged because of them. But when the argument focuses on the degree of exposure — or lack thereof — of female breasts in the workplace, especially in a legal workplace, that’s when tempers really start to get out of control.

I can tell you’re already starting to get a little hot under the collar, aren’t you? OK, look, let’s all just calm down, take a deep breath, and take a tour of some photographic evidence….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Keep Those Breasts Firm… Appropriate”

Picture, if you will, my lawyer friend, Caitlin. She’s a mid-level finance associate at one of New York’s biggest lawyer factories. She’s been at the Big Law game long enough to be depressed on the good days and on the hunt for sturdy noose material on the bad days — which is to say most days. But, as luck would have it, after months of furtive interviews, she finally got an offer a couple of weeks ago to go in-house at a media company that most people I know, including me, would kill to work for.

So, when we went out to drinks last week to celebrate, I was expecting her to be ecstatic. I was expecting her to have quit the firm within five minutes of getting the offer. What I wasn’t expecting was three hours of listening to her waver, almost to the point of tears, about whether she should take the job.

I kept pressing her — what was it about this job offer that was making her so torn? The (awesome, non-billable) hours? The (cooler) people? The (less mind-numbing) work? Finally, after four Belvedere-tonics, she leaned across the table and lowered her voice.“It’s just… I’m just afraid…” She darted her eyes around and leaned in closer, lowering her eyes.

“I’m just afraid of what it’ll be like to feel…” she whispered, “…poor.”

The offered salary of the new in-house gig? $120,000 a year.

And now, a couple of weeks later, I’m still not sure what’s more disturbing: the fact that this friend — a worldly, educated, smart, able person — truly thinks that a single lawyer living in New York City on $120,000 could feel “poor” — or that fact that she’s absolutely right….

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Poor You! (Literally.)”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

Hey, you. Yes, YOU there, the one with the boobs. You’re a lawyer, right? Or some sort of Big Law type, at least? I figured. I could tell by the bewildered look on your face. I know, sweetie, I know: It’s confusing being a woman in and around Big Law these days. First, unless you have a time machine and a magic wand, it looks like you’re not making partner any time soon. Sorry. Then, of course, there’s the finding-a-long-term-sex-partner-who-doesn’t-require-batteries problem. And then, there’s the latest slap: Laminated scraps of “advice” from Citibank your employer about the stupid things that you do to sabotage your career, you (apparently) soft-spoken, smile-happy, invisible moron cow.

And the advice doesn’t stop there. You can’t even find a good glass ceiling to smack your head up against anymore without tripping over a stack of advice for women lawyers on everything from how to dress for success (Avoid nudity!), to how to toughen up (Sass those boys right back when they act rapey at the office!), to how not to look like a drowned clown corpse at work (Forget it, lost cause!).

At this point, I’m so bored with the heaps of so-called advice from other lawyers and professional counsel-givers that I had to turn to the one person I could think of whose advice never fails. The one person who knows what it’s like to carve out a niche for yourself in an often cruel, mystifying profession overrun by over-educated lunatics: My friend, Alanna.

I think you could learn a lot from her. Why? Because she’s never wrong.

And she’s a hooker…

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Working Girls”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

Quick question: You’re a single guy, let’s say in your late twenties to mid-thirties, with a decent job. Given the choice between the following two single women to date, which one do you choose?

Choice A: A real-world-hot 28-year-old receptionist on her fourth job in three years, who lives with two roommates in a fifth-floor walkup in some outer borough, aspires to someday have a job that gives her either free shoes or health insurance, and only sounds like an idiot when she speaks out loud.

Choice B: A real-world-hot 28-year-old BigLaw lawyer (I know, just go with me here) who paid off her school debt by herself in three years, lives alone in a doorman building in Manhattan, is funny and down-to-earth, and runs a small, successful side business selling artisanal cupcakes that she bakes in her spare time.

Clearly, you choose Choice A. Why? Because, if the status quo in my firm … and in my life… and in my friends’ lives… and in any bar from New York to L.A. is any indication, a law degree confers about as much romantic value to a single woman as a meth habit and a hidden penis.

Don’t believe me?

double red triangle arrows Continue reading “Does This Law Degree Make My Ass Look Fat?”

Ed. note: The following piece was authored by The Legal Tease, of Sweet Hot Justice fame. Check out her other musings from Sweet Hot Justice here.

Oh, friends, I know: Where have I been lo these past few months? I’d like to say that I’ve been off on a soul-searching journey, finding peace within Big Law. Or pursuing emotional self-improvement. Or romping around with an aspiring actor type with soccer legs and a limited vocabulary. But, sadly, I can’t say any of those things. Truth be told, I’ve been pursuing self-improvement of a different kind. There’s no way of admitting this without getting ambushed, so I’ll just lay it out there: I had a breast augmentation. A big, round, expensive one. And if you’ll forgive the hubris, the new additions are pretty incredible.

Now, before you start judging, hear me out. Anyone who is even remotely familiar with the parade of psychopaths populating my romantic life knows that I’ve had no luck in finding The One. The whole law-degree thing just hasn’t reeled them in like I thought it would. At this point in my life, I just want to meet a professional, well-educated man and I realized a few months ago that I needed to take more drastic action to make it happen. And I figured that inflating my boobs to the point where I resemble a pair of engorged cantaloupes resting on a blanched pretzel rod seemed like a good— oh crap, wait, that’s not right. I was getting myself confused with our favorite litigious ex-Citi siren, Debrahlee Lorenzana, there for a minute. Sorry. I’ve just actually been at the office this whole time…

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