Good grades in law school for regular people

I've already written about getting good grades in law school without doing much work. Here's how the regular law school people do it.


First year's classes and professors are decided for everyone, so these people just work as hard as they can. They stay up all night reading. They join study groups to make sure they have no free time.

In the second year, they take lots of seminars and clinics. These usually are small affairs, with around ten students per class. Here is where real law students thrive, as I haven't met one yet who doesn't like the sound of his or her voice. Participation in class discussion is pretty much the grade. Whoever talks the most is virtually guaranteed an A. This works in regular classes too, but those often have a lot of people, so one doesn't get as many chances to speak as in a seminar. Why do law school classes have so much discussion? There's really no pedagogic reason, i.e., for purposes of learning. It's mainly law school professors' way of stretching five weeks of material into 15. Additionally, this is how the professors were taught when they were students, so they don't know any better.

Regular law students like seminars because the grading isn't based on a blind curve with extra participation points (in my case it was blind curve with points taken away for non-participation). Moreover, again because of the few people taking the course, kissing the professor's ass is much easier. After class, in a large course, there's usually a crowd of students accosting the professor, trying to ask some smart sounding question or saying how much they enjoyed the class. I've heard students complain that professors leave early. Seminars better facilitate eager law students' discovery of what the professor had for breakfast. I believe this activity after class is called networking. (Incidentally, my law school's career office, in its job guide, stresses asking guest speakers questions after their lectures, complimenting them, and encourages one to invite them to coffee. This is how most get their law jobs.)

Another way that students do well in class, and this applies to the large classes, is to do all of the above and cheat. There are many ways of cheating, but one in particular I found clever.

I knew one, by the name of let's say Melvin, whose father, in addition to being a lawyer is also a shrink. (Melvin went to undergrad with me and apparently took a couple of the same courses, but I never noticed him.) Melvin is a smart guy. I had all my first year and a couple of others with him. He always got the right answers and stayed on top of his reading. Very sharp guy (annoying too, but that's for another post).

I noticed that he never took tests with the rest of the class. And then I discovered him, after a test, coming from another, smaller room. His dad wrote him a letter, maybe calling him a knuckle dragger, so he would have extra time for tests. I don't know if he had extra time on the LSAT or Bar, but he did well on both. He graduated in the top 10 (not percent) of our class. Extra time always helps on tests. I myself always left early because, while I have the ability to bs when there's nothing more to say, I find law so distasteful I'd rather get a lower grade than sit in the testing room much longer. Plus, there's a long line to submit the test to the old lady proctors if one doesn't leave early. But anyway, Melvin, a smart guy, always on top of things, had an advantage. And the best part is that he did it out in the open.

I didn't cheat in any way because I was too lazy to.

What are the uses of KY Jelly?

With the frowzy boss away in Europe, I sit behind his messy desk. On top and all around it are documents. I've been through this before, so I won't describe it again. From this perspective, however, I can see under some of the crap on his desk. One object not visible before is a container of KY Jelly. First incredulity and then disgust fills my mind. Is this why Ben's going to the bathroom all the time? And those client files he's always taking with him, is that what they are?

I always thought Ben's old age was responsible for his frequent restroom trips. Now I'm not so sure. Men do have their needs, I suppose, and as Ben pretty much lives in the office, maybe it's understandable.

But maybe I'm rushing to judgment. What, besides the obvious, are the other uses of KY?

Lip gloss, shaving treatment, massage oil, hair gel, puffy eye treatment?

His lips are never shiny, I don't see any razors, I doubt he gives himself massages except the one that brought my original disgust, his hair is never gelled and I don't see a comb, so maybe it's puffy eye treatment, although there's no freezer to stick the KY in.

Any other uses?

For the record, I'm not eavesdropping on my boss. I'm allowed, and encouraged to sit at his desk, and I don't go through the shelves.

I started washing my hands after leaving the office.

Waterman the idiot

The boss has left for Europe, to be with his wife's family and to send me imbecilic emails throughout the day and night. He's only been there since Saturday and already there are problems.

He attempted to file an accounting of an estate. As I mentioned in an earlier post, he's been doing estate stuff since the 1970s. But after all this time, does he know how to do an accounting? Nope. Apparently I have to fix it tomorrow because the court rejected it. Things are in the wrong place, e.g. in Schedule B instead of Schedule D, and some stuff isn't in there at all. I have to put it in, but don't know where to look in his ocean of documents covering the floor.

How is it that after over 30 years he doesn't know anything in the field that is his specialty? He's got a fracking LLM in it. NYU must be a really crappy law school, because he knows squat.

Juan the compulsive cleaner has also ventured into estates with Ben Waterman's success. Last week the court rejected his petition for "a voluntary administration." Even I know there's no such thing. There are voluntary accountings and there are applications for letters of administration. It seems Juan has not learned that following Ben's advice is not a good way to go.

The funny thing, not from the client's perspective, is that Ben makes more money off his mistakes than he would if he did it right the first time. Everything takes him three times as long to do because he's always messing up.

If you care at all about those who will inherit your property, avoid lawyers at all costs. Set up transfer on death accounts and trusts whenever possible.

Wouldn't it be awesome to have a job to which I can't wait to go? so that morning wouldn't come fast enough? Are there jobs like that? I'm so tired, in all senses of the word, of getting up before the sun rises and returning home when the sun has set.

Why is it that sleep is the sweetest and most wonderful just as the morning alarm rings?

Screw the lawyers of the world, making things needlessly complicated so that only members of their small club could do it.

Stupid world, the worst of all possible worlds, any better and it wouldn't exist, with work being necessary just to live. I'm not just talking about going to the dreadful office, full of incompetent and greedy people. To keep living, there's always work to be done. Water, food, sleep, shelter, clothes.

To what end? Just to reproduce so the cycle continues for someone else?

I hope Ben's lunch is long today, so I can sleep at my desk.

Clever Title

My last work day last week, I wrote Ben a memo, which I sent by email. One lawyerly trait I have is an obsessive compulsive need to check over what I've written (not so much here, as this is supposed to be therapy.) I read over the memo a couple of times; it was about evicting homeless people out of a dead woman's house because her heirs want to sell it. Even though they're living there, Ben and I still call them homeless. They don't pay rent, you see. And calling them homeless makes it easier to kick them out of their home just in time for the start of winter. This is lawyer's work!

So the memo is about what we have to do to evict these poor saps. I reread it and think it's a really good argument I make about it being really complicated to kick them out (not really) and how it would take a super long time (I guess) and that it would be better to sell the house with them in it. Ben probably won't agree, for the more tasks we [I] do, the more he gets paid. (I get paid 18% of how much he charges clients for the work I do. Awesome, isn't it?). But maybe he will agree, as he, with 30 plus years of experience, apparently knows absolutely nothing about evictions. I see a bunch of eviction notices in his floor piles [files], but I guess they're the work of his last associate.

The memo seems pretty good, I'm happy with myself, and am feeling a little less guilty. Then I see the first line:

"To: Ben Waterman"

Doh! Ben Waterman is Ben's name in this blog, so the old fool won't hire someone to sue me. I'm worried about being fired too, but that would just put me out of my misery.

I logged in to Ben's email account. I know his password because it's his name. His email is bwaterman@domain.com, and his password is bwaterman. He didn't read that email yet, so I deleted it and sent a new one. No harm, but that was close. I fear being embarrassed more than I do being fired. Probably another lawyerly trait. Not good.

While Ben's email at least has a password, his computer is completely defenseless. His wireless router is totally open. Anyone in the building can use his connection. Moreover, all his files are shared and his firewall is disabled. Want to know someone's address, phone number, bank accounts, and social security number? Come to our building with a laptop and a wireless connection. Too lazy to do that? You can use Windows Foldershare to log on to Ben's office and home computers. The username is his email, and the password is his name.

At least Ben's office has a kind of security system; any thief looking for documents to steal will be deterred by the awful chaos. I'm waiting for Ben's clients to give him identity theft work.

Law school is a weird version of television high school

Are American high schools really like the ones they show on TV and in the movies? Are there jocks, who date the cheerleaders and bully the nerds? Are there homecomings and dances, sports competitions, unintended pregnancies with hilarious consequences, geeks mustering up the courage to take on the popular kids, and all those other things?

I ask because I didn't go to a high school like that. While there were cliques and coteries (the stoners, for instance), their composition was mostly based on their members' ethnicity or musical interest. I think we might have had a basketball team, and a few guys liked to run around the track, but I don't remember any jocks. There might have been nerds. However, if there was any sharp division between any two groups at the school, it was between the special eders and the retards. The distinction between the two was that the special eders took a yellow bus to school and got caught when sneaking into the building after cutting class while the retards walked or used public transportation and usually didn't get caught. Most of the school fell into the latter category. I don't remember there ever being a dance, homecoming, pep rallies, etc. We didn't even have lockers or trophy displays. Maybe we had all these things and I just hung out with the stoners too much, but I doubt it.

While high school wasn't like the high school TV says it is, law school was, but in a weird, unsettling way. First, there were lockers. There were dances, the Barrister's Ball being the most significant. There was a trophy display case in the hall. There were various events that were, beneath their scholarly veneer, pep rallies. Now, that's perhaps a little weird, but not unsettling.

What I find unsettling is that jocks at law school are actually nerds. Whereas in a television high school the jock plays some sort of sport, in law school he (or she) is bespectacled and on the moot court team. These are the people that win the trophies. The popular people, apart from the jocks, are also nerds. They belong to the law review. Just as in television high school there are degrees of popularity, there are in law school. The lesser popular are on the lesser journals--international law, urban law, entertainment law, or whatever they were. There are also lesser jocks, like those on the alternative dispute resolution team.

All the way at the bottom of the popularity chain is the person like me. The unknown outsider who hates being there. We know the type from TV. If the story isn't told from the nerd's or geek's point of view, it's told from his (this is usually an indi film, while the nerd's story is from a bigger studio--probably because the nerd market is bigger than the loner market). Here I am telling it. What's weird about it is that on TV this lowly high schooler is there because it's mandatory. In law school this person is there voluntarily, for unknown reasons, even to himself.

He is so unnoticed that not even the bullies are aware of him. Yes, law school has bullies.* Unlike TV high school, they hide on the internet in places like this. Their bullying, like their racist, sexist, and homophobic comments scrawled on desks in the lower levels of the library, is largely ignored. Until, however, it leads to something like this. Then every law school-affiliated person quickly tries to denounce it, while in their heads relieved that they weren't caught for whatever god-awful thing they've been doing. Some of the bullies turn on the exposed bullies. Sharks feasting on wounded brethren, it's beautiful.

*When I wrote that, I honestly thought it was surprising that law school has bullies. What was I thinking? It's probably because it's time for bed. It should be surprising that not everyone in law school is a bully. They are lawyers in training, after all.

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Rich Peiser, the office bozo

Rich Peiser is the office ugly American. He screams and curses all day long, at clients, other lawyers, and people in the office. Yesterday he had a fight with the Spanish neat freak. Apparently they're working on a case together. Rich accused Juan of not signing a release that Rich emailed him. They cursed and screamed at each other for half and hour, until it was determined that Rich never sent the email. Then I had to deal with Juan gloating the rest of the day. Juan went into his office and shut the door, emerging a minute later. He did what I can only describe as a Pee-wee Herman dance, with his wrists on his chin and his palms facing the floor, and said something I found puzzling: "Esta mierda esta mucho mejor." The only thing I can think of is that he had a drug delivery earlier in the day.


He wouldn't be the only one with a substance abuse problem. Rich likes one, two, or three drinks for lunch. Additionally, he's always eying Juan's liquor cabinet.


Last week Rich had a fight with a now former client, who wanted certain documents that Rich couldn't find. Apparently Rich and his boss didn't do any of the things they were supposed to, and now, with a looming court date, the unfortunate woman had to find another lawyer. It was interesting to see. After every frantic question the woman asked him, Rich would run out of the suite, pretending to be upset. During the incident, Juan stepped out of his office and asked if there was a problem. The woman said that Rich would not give her her documents. In a very chivalrous way, Juan quietly stepped back into his office and closed the door.

Rich is in the same kind of position I'm in, but with more years of experience. He works for a solo practitioner, who's not as much of an idiot as my boss Ben. Rich, it should also be noted, is a better lawyer than Ben.

Office Intercom

There's a fancy, though somehow deffective phone on my desk at the office. Yesterday, Ben discovered that all the phones in the suite are connected by an intercom system.

And so it began--

My phone started making noises and I jumped. Then Ben's voice was there, right next to me. With panic I looked over my shoulder. Ben was in his office, fiddling with his phone. What the hell?

He said my name again. "Are you there?"

Who the frack is talking to me? "Yes? Ben?"

"Yeah. Did you know we [garbled, indecipherable speech]."

"Excuse me?"

"We have [garbled, indecipherable speech]."

"What?"

"We have an intercom!" Ben shouted from his office.

"Oh."

"[More garbled sounds from the phone.]"

"What?"

Ben shouts from his office, "I have a bill from the messenger service for a hand delivery to Park Avenue. Do you remember what that was about?"

"Um, I think that's from the Smith case."

"Don't [garbled noise.]"

"You don't have to shout, use the intercom!" Ben shouted.

"It's the Smith case. Copies of documents for their new lawyer," I said sceptically at the phone.

"Wha--"

"Smith case. Documents for new lawyer."

"[Static]"

I get up from my chair, take ten steps to Ben's door. "Smith case. Documents for new lawyer."

"Oh, right. Thank you."

Five minutes later, my phone beeps again. And so it went, all morning until Ben's luncheon, when I could finally do my work in peace.

Ben Waterman is Miserable

Yesterday at work, because Ben had nothing to do, he asked me how my weekend was. I said it was good. He asked what happened that made it good. I said I didn't know. So why was it good? he interrogated me. I thought about it and said that nothing bad happened, so it was good. Ben didn't understand. You have a strange view on life, he told me, think about what happened to make it good, because I'll ask you again later. Oh I can't wait.

This made me realize that I'm generally a happy person--outside of work. Hanging out with my girl friend and watching silly TV shows with her makes me happy.

For Waterman to be happy, something has to happen. This is because he's always at work. He calls me about things from the office very late in the evening, and very early the next morning. I thought he might be living in there (which would explain all the files on the floor--they're his bed and blankets) until one Sunday he called me from his home. Nevertheless, he takes his work home with him, and law work is miserable, especially Ben's, which is mostly the recession-proof area involving dead people's estates. Maybe recessions are even better for the business in terms of volume, as maybe more people die during recessions (I don't know if this is true) because they're sadder, have less money, and are more stressed out.

The Spanish immigration lawyer also appears miserable. For weeks now he's been inviting lawyers in the suite to his Christmas party and getting angry when they say they're not sure they'll make it. Apparently he has no other friends. I find it funny, and a bit ironic, that he's trying to take work home to make himself happy.

Good grades in law school while slacking

As I said before, I'm a slacker. I try to do things with the least effort possible. I went through law school in just that way, finishing in the top third of my class.

When you select courses for your second year, find professors that don't cold call or take attendence. This information can be found from your fellow law students, from websites such as ratemyprofessors.com, and possibly from your law school, if it has a course evaluation system. You can also try to email the professors from an annonymous address to ask them.

When you have a list of such professors, try to take classes that will have a lot of people in them--at least 40--so your absenses won't be missed.

The beauty of taking large classes with professors that don't cold call is that you don't ever have to show up. For example, I took a human rights course that had a take home final. I showed up a total of four times. The first two sessions to make sure the professor really didn't randomly call on people or take attendence, once around the middle of the term because I was feeling a bit guilty about not showing up, and once on the last day of class to find out about the final. I got an A in the class. Many of my classmates, those WASPS of different ethnicities, who apparently went to every session, took lots of notes, and participated their hearts out did worse.

When choosing courses, don't let the subject matter sway you away from the right professors. All legal subjects are the same, only the keywords are different. The classes follow the same formula of reading cases, talking about them (stupid questions and annoying comments from classmates), and taking a final. Does it really matter if it's Copyright or Torts?

When you do show up in class, sit in some far off corner or in a crowd, so your sudden appearance or many disappearances won't be noticed. If the professor doesn't take attendence, there's absolutely no point in being in class.

But doesn't the professor explain things? I guess, but that's what commercial outlines are for. You'll buy them anyway. If you read them instead of going to class, you'll save time, and you won't have your law nerd classmates' idiocy to confuse you.

Never buy the textbooks. They're expensive, heavy, and useless. Do buy the 2,000 page Conviser Mini Review for the state in which you'll take the bar. Textbook cases are just supposed to teach you the basic concepts, which is something you'll find in the Mini Review on any subject, while at the same time studying for the bar exam. Sweet, huh? The Mini Review is all you neeed. Keep it in your locker, and read it when you're cutting class.

If you end up with a professor who calls on people based on the class roll, borrow someone's textbook to make copies of the cases you'll be asked questions on when it's your turn. Go to westlaw and lexis, and get the summaries of the cases. Then skim the cases themselves. You don't have to read them carefully, since all that will do is tell you that the judge who wrote the opinion is a terrible writer. The Conviser has all the legal answers, and the lexis and westlaw summaries give you the facts. You don't need anything else. Even if you get things wrong when you're called on, it won't look like you didn't do the reading. So it might be a little embarrassing, but isn't it already sort of shameful that you're in law school?

Although your classes and professors are selected for you in your first year, you can still slack off. Don't go classes where attendence isn't taken. Use that time to read for classes where the professor cold calls.

Try to befriend a couple of law nerds who know what's going on. These are usually the poloshirt wearing WASPS and the Jewish Princesses. As all law students are insecure, it's easy to befriend them. They want people to like them and to talk to them, even if it's just using them. In fact, given their backgrounds, in that fake upper middle class suburban and Ivy League world of theirs, being used and using is the only social interaction they know. You might start off by saying that they have something on their lip or eye (works better if they don't have a mirror). They rub that place and you say it's all gone. Now they're grateful, the insecure bastards, and a fruitful (for you) acquaintence is in the works.

You might feel bad about using people in this way, but remember these two things:

1. Law school students are not people. They are future lawyers.

2. This is what law is all about. If you truly find it reprehensible, you'll never make it in the legal field. Drop out now, before you lose your soul. (I should have done this. Instead, this blog is my therapy.)

By cutting classes where no one will notice you're gone and using that time to prepare for classes where they will call on you you'll find that you have a lot of extra time. By not buying textbooks, you'll find that you have extra money.

You might be wondering, what about finals? If your professor lets you bring anything you want into the testing room (many do) bring your Mini Review. You might also want to check if there are any outlines posted for that professor. I got an A in my Copyright class by copying verbatim from an outline I found posted on the Student Bar Association website at my school.

If your professor doesn't let you bring anything into the testing room, you have to memorize. Now, if you've been reading the cases all along throughout the entire semester, would you really remember everything, or would you, like most people, have to read and memorize a commercial outline? Chances are you're in the latter group, so not reading during the semester actually saved you time. Use the Mini Review, and, if you must, another commercial outline for the course to memorize.

My first week in law school, I thought everyone was exceptionally smart. There was a certain confidence in the way they presented themselves. They used big words, and half the time I didn't know what they were talking about.

By the end of the first month, however, this impression of mine evaporated. They're not everyday morons, these law students, mostly because of their upper middle class private schooling, but they're retards nonetheless. I realized that neither they nor anyone else understood what they were talking about. The professors were either polite, or, more likely, pretending along with everyone else that something intelligent was said. Law students and the blood sucking parasites they become upon passing the bar exam are all insecure by nature,* which might explain the pretense. When the emperor has no clothing it takes someone with no vested interest to announce it, and no one in a law classroom fits the part.

Ben Waterman is one of those stupid people who uses just enough jargon and latinate words to appear competent. Part of each of my work days is devoted to fixing his mistakes. Attempts to file unsigned affidavits, incorrect captions, figures that don't add up, etc. If you're ever a client and your lawyer calls you everyday because he has a new document for you to sign on the same matter that you thought was going to be done last week, you better start wondering about where your legal fees are going. Fortunately for Ben, his clients, with one or two exceptions, don't wonder.

None of the clients wonder why Ben calls the court so much. He's been working in the same area of law for over 30 years, and he still calls the court clerks to ask them what to do. He's not dealing with novel issues either; I'm talking about standard petitions that people can do without lawyers just by showing up to the courthouse.

The worst thing is when Ben has me call. I dread these conversations. Ben watches me, so I feel I must do it. I'm uncomfortable saying no. If Ben's not watching, I pretend that I called, and make something up about what the clerk said, usually just quoting from the appropriate statute.

When I call, the clerk starts out sounding eager to help. Several calls later, I can hear them rolling their eyes. It usually goes something like this:


Ben: I'm working on the Ramierez estate (I know nothing about this matter). Find out what is needed to file a petition for temporary letters of administration.

Me: The petition, for which we have a form, the death certificate, paid funeral bill, possibly an heirship affidavit, and a reason for needing temporary letters.

Ben: Call the court to make sure.

Me: O...K....

Call court.

Me: Good morning, I work at the Law Offices of Ben Waterman. I have a question about what is required to apply for temporary letters of administration.

Clerk: Why do you need temporary letters?

Me: Hold on. Ben, why do we need temporary letters?

Ben: There are assets in the estate that need immediate administering.

Me: There are assets in the estate that need immediate administering.

Clerk: Um, I'm not sure what you mean, but ok. You need the petition, paid funeral bill, death certifate, and maybe an heirship affidavit.

Me: Thanks. Have a great day.

Clerk: You too.

Me: Ben, we need a petition, the death certificate, paid funeral bill, possibly an heirship affidavit, and a reason for needing temporary letters.

Ben: Hmm. Ask them if we can file for regular and temporary letters at the same time.

Me: Sure, we can just check the form in the appropriate places.

Ben: Call them.

Call court.

Me: Hi again, I'm calling from the Law Offices of Ben Waterman. I have another question.

Clerk: Ok.

Me: Can we apply for both temporary and regular letters of administration using the same form?

Clerk: Yes. Just check the appropriate boxes.

Me: Thanks, have a great day.

Clerk: Hmm mmm.

Me: Ben, we just check the appropriate boxes.

Ben: Ask them if we can get the public administrator to be issued the temporary letters.

Me: Yes we can.

Ben: Call them.

Call court.

Me: Hi again. I have an additional question.

Clerk: Yeah?

Me: Can the public administrator be granted temporary letters?

Clerk: Yes

Me: Thank--

Clerk hangs up.

Me: Ben, the public administrator can get the temporary letters.

Ben: Is the public administrator an attorney?

Me: Let me check. [Google.] Yes.

Ben: Make sure, call the court.

Me: Are you sure? The clerk sounded upset.

Ben: call.

Call court.

Me: Hi. Sorry to trouble you again, but I have another question. Is the public administrator an attorney?

Clerk: Why don't you go ask your attorney. I'm not doing all your work for you!

Me: I understand, but the thing is my boss asked me to call.

Clerk: Pffft. Yes, the public administrator is an attorney.

Me: Thank you, have a great day.

Clerk: hmmm

Me: Yeah, Ben, the public admin is a lawyer.

Ben: Ok, thanks.

I go back to my desk. Behind me, in his office, Ben calls the court and proceeds to ask them the same questions he had me ask.

I took a look at Ben's retainer agreement with the Ramierezes. He capped his fees at 20% of the estate. The estate was worth very little. Before Ben finished talking with all the clerks, never mind actually starting to draft anything, he maxed out his fees.

The next day:

Ben: This is a complicated case. There's little money coming into the estate. We're going to hold off on it for now.

What a moron.

Most of the generic poloshirt wearers in law school are just this way. They love the sound of their own voice, and get high marks for class participation. But nothing gets done and no one learns anything.

I'm a moron too, I suppose--for not dropping out.


*More on this in later posts

My Work Situation

I work at the Law Offices of Ben Waterman, P.C.* Why is it that solo practitioners have law offices, and not just a law office? My boss shares a suite, in a fancy East Midtown building (which every lawyer in the office puts on their cards and letterhead, since that's probably their biggest client getter), with a bunch of other lawyers. He has a small office, and a space for me in another room, which is more like a hallway than a room, that doesn't belong to him.

He has clients' files everywhere--covering his desk, his red leather chairs, his window, which I'm told has a good view of the Hudson, and even in his filing cabinets. Clients' passports, social security cards, drivers licenses of the deceased, and bank statements cover the floor. I frequently step on them as I swim across the room to grab a file.

Next door to the spacious offices of Mr. Waterman works a Spanish Immigration lawyer with four names, Juan-Maria Limpiador-Compolsivo. He has a bigger office, which is immaculate, Juan being a neat freak. When Waterman leaves the building to go to one of his many law luncheons or hair cuts (he gets one at least once a week), Juan sneaks into his office and starts organizing. As he never does his own work, when his associate is out to lunch or is otherwise absent and he has no one to talk to, he talks to me, relating his cleaning adventures in Waterman's office. He likes to reminisce about how he once found a month old rotting banana, under which was a very important document that Waterman had been looking for for months while insisting to his unfortunate client that he never received said document.

When Waterman's clients pay him a visit, he never takes them to his office. They either go to the communal conference room, or, if that's busy, to the empty office of whichever lawyer is using it.

I have to go to work now, so more later.

*Everything I write is true, but all names, other than those of public officials and famous people, will be fictional so no one will be embarrassed and so I won't be sued. Lawyers and law students are litigious people.

General Background

Mine is a generation of slackers. In our mid-twenties and early thirties, most of us still live with our parents. We are college educated and some of us even have jobs, that we change on a regular basis. We try to find ourselves and rely on the safety net that living with parents provides. We can make mistakes and take risks that would otherwise be disasterous. Mostly though, we want to be happy, and feel independent enough not to want to escape from the nest. To relax and hang out is our aspiration.

The people you meet in law school are entirely different creatures.

Career and money oriented, they prefer hard work to sleep. Law students, with the exception of outcasts like me, are generic. They are all the same person with slightly different attributes.

Everyone you meet in law school will be one of these people:

the Jewish American Princesses, their hair almost always in a pony tail. Every day in class one of them raises her hands to exclaming about "the floodgates of litigation" or some "slippery slope" or other.

the other Jewish girls, tall, with curly hair and Julia Roberts style big mouths. They don't speak in class. But once in the hall, they become Jewish American Princesses.

the asian girls, also with pony tails, but with glasses. When called on, they whisper into their laptops.

the other asian girls--Jewish American Princesses, but with Asian facial features.

the blond Jewish American Princesses, but Irish or Italian, possibly German. But with no other distinction. I believe they're called WASPS.

the WASPS of both genders, but with black skin, like Barrack Obama or Colin Powell, or dark skin like Greg Geraldo.

the male WASPS with Asian features. (I once mistook one for another, referring to George as David. It was my first week of school. There was some embarassment on my part.)

the yarmulke and glasses wearing fat Jewish guys. There's always something off with their faces. Some of them have indented potato-looking heads.

the other yarmulke and glasses wearing Jewish guys, always in a suit or at least dark business casual attire.

the Jewish guys from Eastern Europe who don't wear yarmulkes, and speak Russian really loud while blocking the stairs.

the standard cum laude Ivy Leaguer poloshirt wearers, who, like the Princesses, must stop something from falling down the slipery slope and are obsessed with unburdening the courts, but unlike the Princesses, call out while the professor's back is turned.

the old woman who raises her hand and then talks for ten minutes on a series of irrelevant topics before they're politely asked to shut up. They have a male version, usually with glasses and curly hair, who are always concerned about freedom of speech being taken too far, even in contracts class.

the attempted rebel, usually dressed in a Che shirt, a Soviet hockey jersey, or some similar left wing nostalgia wear.

As law schools, in addition to their quota of blacks and hispanics, also have a gay and lesbian quota, the openly homosexual portion of the student body is scattered inconspicuously throughout the WASP contingent.

One more thing to add before I go; all of the above love baseball and will talk about it every chance they get. During baseball season, which is probably 3/4 of the year, everyone's laptop is on ESPN or MLB.com.

This has been a general background blog. More specific entries will follow about why I should have dropped out of law school. Till then, adieu.