Les Miserables

Last month, I billed—billed—308 hours.  A stat made only more disturbing by the fact that it was my lightest month all quarter.  I talked to an online psychiatrist about going on anti-depressants, I started eating carbs again, and I booked an appointment with my gyno to figure out at what point I should look into freezing my eggs.  But the good news is: I got a free milkshake, courtesy of the Firm’s Happiness Committee. [Read more]

Goodbye Prada

In the fifty or so crappy jobs I had prior to law school, I always cared about how I looked. Sure, I was only working as, say, a temp receptionist at a basement theater company, but I figured, eh, a little mascara and maybe a stiletto or two can’t hurt—because you never know who you’re gonna meet, right?  And when I accepted an offer to work at one of the swankiest Big Firms in New York, I figured the possibilities of who I might meet would skyrocket.  I’d be bumping into sexy corporate titans and Wall Street bad boys left and right—and my old glamour-jones would finally (finally!) have a worthy outlet.  Each day would be a glitzy montage of Louboutin bliss and sleek Prada power suits worthy of Darren Star’s next primetime hit. Sure, I didn’t really know what kind of work I’d actually be doing, or what a lawyer really even does, but I knew I’d look damn good doing it.  So please help me figure out how things have gone so horribly wrong. [Read more]

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