Q: I’m taking the NY Bar Exam later this month for the first time and am taking Barbri to prepare for it.  It’s been going OK, but I got back my scores for the  simulated practice test that Barbri offers and, no exaggeration, I almost threw up.  (I won’t even share my score. I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.)  Before you make judgments, though, know this: I graduated from a T14 school, was on an honors journal (not Law Review, but still an honors journal) and graduated in the top third of my class, so I know how to study.

A:  Quick question back at you before we get going: These “multiple sources” that clued you in on their secret to Bar Exam prep success:  Did they start their spiel with “Dude, look…” and end it with a story about how they went out and got bombed every night up until the week before the test, at which point they totally stayed up studying for, like, six days straight in their parents’ outdoor shed and didn’t shower and pissed in a cup and ate only peanut butter and cardboard but that it all worked out in the end?  Because if they did, I totally know them!!  One of them just rang me up at Walgreens.

Oh, honey, part of me just wants to slap you and part of me wants to give you a hug. And then slap you.  Let’s start with the part of me that just wants to slap you: During the 3 years you spent in law school, did you not notice that nothing about law students is cool?  And the recent grads who brag about how little they study and use party as a verb are the least cool of all.  Sorry to break it to you —and keep in mind, I’m a lawyer, too— but lawyers aren’t cool.  And law students really aren’t cool.  At least by real world cool standards.  We’re nerds.  We’re good at tests and that’s why we wound up in the godforsaken places we did.  So, just own that, be proud of it and stop pretending that anyone giving you on advice on the Bar Exam is a Ronson-in-training.

Now, the hug:  Calm down.  Now that we’ve agreed that you’re not going to listen to any more of your esteemed “multiple sources,” remember: Barbri’s goal isn’t just for you to pass the Bar Exam; it’s to make as much money for Barbri’s business as possible—and part of that business model involves scaring the crap out of you a few weeks before the Bar Exam so that you’ll murder your ego and just dive into the materials and study your ass off — and then rave about Barbri when you pass.  Though, speaking of your ego, know this (and thanks for the warning not to judge you): Your litany of entirely unremarkab— whoops, sorry, was just about to judge you!  Do-over:  Your litany of law school…accomplishments mean precisely ZERO when it comes to passing the Bar Exam.  Actually, I take that back, it means less than zero.  All of the folks I know who failed the Bar exam went to great schools, did well and then…failed anyway.  Most of them went to Yale and Columbia, actually, if that makes you feel better (probably not).  So, drill this into your head: Knowing how to succeed in law school and knowing how to succeed on the Bar Exam are two hugely different things.

OK, so, now that you’re even more depressed and nervous, as you should be, take a few deep breaths and relax—you’ve still got a shot at passing.  You have, um, over a week to cram like a lunatic. (Sure, that’s the opposite of what you’re “supposed” to do during the week before the Bar Exam, but as I hope you’ve figured out by now, there’s no one way you’re supposed to do anything on this test.)  Just remember, this isn’t law school.  You’re not aiming for an A+; you just want a C+.  Hell, you just want a D+.  So, just clear your head, make friends with your short-term memory and spend every waking minute doing as many practice questions as you can.   Whatever you do, keep calm and steady and just keep plowing ahead—and maybe stock up on some peanut butter and cardboard.

Good luck.

Need advice? Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

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Q: Before I relay my question, I would just please like to reiterate that I do not believe that I’ve been sexually harassed in any way and I’m not looking to file any sort of claim.  However, I did let a partner, well, feel up my boobs in a momentary lapse of judgment and now I’m completely freaking out.  I’m a third-year associate and he’s a junior partner and it happened at a welcome reception for the new first-year associates.  I actually worked with him on a major white-collar case a few years ago back when he was a senior associate and I always thought there was a little sexual tension but I was a first-year at the time and he was gunning for partner and nothing ever happened.  But after the reception the other night, a few of us all went out and after a while, it was just me and him and a few drinks led to a few more and before I knew it, his hands were heading under my shirt and I fully let it happen (in public, no less) – but did stop right after that and we took separate cabs home.

He’s not married, but I’m pretty sure he’s seeing someone and, well, he’s a partner in my department.  I don’t want to have some sort of an “affair” but I had fun and actually really like this guy and wouldn’t be adverse to a relationship, but I can barely look him in the eye.  Now what?

A:  Oh, “affairs” with “partners.” They’re so “fun” and often lead to “things” like “getting fired.” Child, have you learned NOTHING from this site—specifically, the parade of horribles appearing over here?

OK, look, here’s what I’ve learned from my years as a person who…lives on the Earth: When you let a guy you barely know tap out Stairway to Heaven on your boobs in the middle of a bar before he goes home to his girlfriend, your chances for a “relationship” are pretty well shot. And when this person is also your boss, you might as well just call a headhunter now. See, the morning after your little liaison, you woke up and felt kind of tingly and embarrassed and a little hopeful, and texted four girlfriends and at least one gay about it and made sure to put on lip gloss and wear a cute outfit in case you saw him—and he woke up and made a mental note to avoid you for the next sixteen years. And maybe called a lawyer.

Sorry, but he likely doesn’t think you’re girlfriend material—and his girlfriend probably doesn’t, either. Even if this gropefest did inspire him to pursue a “relationship,” what’s he going to do? Start dating someone he supervises—someone who could, despite her intense reiterations to the contrary, fire off a harassment suit in three seconds if the relationship soured or she got laid off? And what about you? Why would you put yourself in a position where someone who has the power to fire you—or at the very least make your life miserable—be the same guy who sees you naked in your downtime? Everybody loses. There is a reason, after all, why associates date other associates—and why partners just stick to hookers. Or secretaries.

So, calm down—you’re actually not in much of a dilemma. Since a relationship’s totally off the table, the most you can hope for with this guy is a grope in a file room now and then—which, hey, has its place, but will do just as much for your ego as it will for your career. So, just put this little episode behind you, make sure to hold your head high around this  partner, and just move on to more eligible bachelors. And maybe wear a turtleneck from now on around the office.

Good luck.

Need advice? Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I just finished my first round of OCI screening interviews.  I am in the top 10% of my class and on an honors journal, so I’ve actually received a few callback requests and may have a chance at landing an actual offer this fall.  There’s one firm—top top tier Big Law, shall remain nameless—that’s the always been my dream firm and I did get a callback.  The only problem is, the screening interviewer was a total, total a*hole.  He was aggressively flirting with me in the interview, practically leering at one point, and made two disgusting comments, including one about female attorneys who get pregnant. (And before everyone jumps down my throat, I was conservatively dressed, not revealing skin, and was acting professional and appropriate in the interview, so please save the “she was asking for it” analysis, thank you.)  I reported his behavior to my school’s career services office and they were appropriately horrified.

My question is: Should I even go on the callback?  This firm has always been my dream firm and is big enough that I might never see this jerk again—but what if I do?  What if he thinks that I’m supposed to “reciprocate” for him getting me a callback once/if I start working there?  Do I even want to work at a firm that would allow some pig like this to interview potential associates?

A:  Congratulations. It sounds like you have officially nabbed the Most Inappropriate OCI Interview Award for your school’s 2009 Fall OCI season. Well done. For this honor, you can expect your story to make the rounds among every 1L and 2L at your school—not to mention junior associates at firms nearby—for the next three to five years. (In my 2L year, the winner had an interviewer from a major firm who kept sounding off about “the Jews,” followed the next year by an interviewer who was fully drunk by 11:30 a.m.)

Now that you have this honor, the first thing you need to do is calm the hell down. See, here’s how OCI interviewing works at big firms: Ideally, two folks from the firm’s recruiting committee, usually one partner and one associate, are scheduled to be on campus. But then, at 6:25 that morning, their actual jobs get in the way and one or both of them have to bail last-minute. Because, as monumentally important as it may be to spend 10 hours in a stripped hotel room listening to law students who have no chance of getting hired talking about their life-changing experiences working with their school’s Immigration Law Clinic, the promise of a few hours of client billable work remarkably wins out almost every time. So, then, desperate for a last-minute replacement, the firm dispatches That Guy.

That Guy is the one you just met. He’s usually Of Counsel—or an income partner at best—and hasn’t been allowed to interact with associates, much less clients, in at least a decade. No one quite knows why they keep him around at the firm; chances are, he’s some sort of Big Firm Savant or his wife’s last name is either Goldman or Sachs. Either way, he has some time on his hands, but as foul as those hands may be, they’re pretty harmless.

Now, there’s no doubt your That Guy acted totally, wholly inappropriately. Good call reporting him to your school’s career services office—if for no other reason than to have it on the books to protect yourself. Now, drop it. Go on your callback. Who knows why he called you back—if you’re at the tippy top of your class like you claim, you were probably marked for a callback before you walked in the room. Or maybe he just liked your boobs. Who cares? You got the callback at your dream firm. The firm won’t let him interview you again (especially if your school follows up with the firm about the complaint) and it’s not like he’s going to corner you in the lobby and demand a blow job for the callback that he had next to nothing to do with in the first place.

Of course, there’s the issue of whether you actually want to work at a firm that’s so callous that it would send this lawsuit-waiting-to-happen to woo its young recruits. You don’t, probably—but not because of the unfortunate That Guy encounter. Sorry to break it to you, but working in Big Law, especially your “top top” Big Law firms, isn’t quite the dream party that you might assume it is. Why is this firm even your “dream firm”? Because other law students said it was? Because it has a high Vault ranking? Come on. Once you actually get in the door, you’ll see that most fancy, big firms are basically the same. The work’s the same, the pay’s the same, and the people, including the douchiest players, are the same. Every firm has its own version of That Guy. Consider it a boon that you’ve already identified him.

So, go kick ass at your callback interview. Smile, be charming and keep the body jewelry to a minimum. And if you actually do get an offer, stop worrying, put the bad interview out of your mind, and just take the money and run. A couple of years from now, when you’re on your sixth straight day without sleep, surrounded by stacks of due diligence, That Guy and his limp, pathetic law-firm lothario schtick will be least of your worries. Trust me.

Good luck!

Need advice? Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I’m about to go in for a summer associate interview with a firm from Big Law.  I was excited to get it, and quickly reviewed my cover letter so I could keep my story straight.  That’s when it hit me: I had a glaring typo in my cover letter. It wasn’t in the boiler-plate portion that I used in all of them, thank goodness, but I checked my cover letters to other firms, just to be sure (they were all fine).  Still, I’m dreading going in to this interview, KNOWING that I have this terrible, gaping, glaring typo in my cover letter.

How do I deal?  Is it possible they just didn’t notice, and I should not acknowledge it?  I have visions of myself sweating bullets in the interview chair, that internal typo staring at me from the letter in the interviewer’s hand as I slowly lose my mind like the protagonist of a Poe story.  How do I keep from outing myself as an idiot who can’t even type a simple cover letter?   Even if they haven’t seen it, won’t SOMEONE notice, eventually, if they call me back for a second-round interview?  Should I mea culpa right away, and risk drawing attention to an error that might kill my chances?  I’m dreading answering a question about my “attention to detail,” and getting a follow-up: “So, then, how do you explain this typo in your cover letter?”

Could it all be a cruel hoax?  Am I the victim of a Big Law hazing?  Help!

—Victim of a Tell-Tale Typo

A:  OK, first: Calm down. It’s not like you accidentally included a picture of your genitals along with your cover letter. It’s just a typo. That said, short of…including a picture of your genitals along with your cover letter, sending off a cover letter with a glaring typo is probably the worst thing you could have done. Melodramatic? Probably. True? Unfortunately.

See, as you’ve already noticed, law firms are obsessed with the infamous “attention to detail” rap, including, yes, typos. Why are law firms so aggro about this? Are they just full of über-perfectionist, Law-Review-worshipping grammar Nazis looking to crucify those with less than razor-sharp proofreading skills? Well, yes—but more to the point, it’s because as a junior associate, the only things you’ll ever be expected to do with any sort of accuracy are hunt through data-rooms full of 400-page credit agreements for the words “change of control,” put semi-colons in the right places, and make sure the client’s name is spelled correctly on your time sheets. So, when your supervisor (or interviewer) sees that you can’t even manage to grab this low-hanging fruit, you’re pretty much written off from that point forward.

Here’s the good news, though: Big Law lawyers don’t read recruiting cover letters. The recruiting folks do—and barely, at that. The only thing anyone actually cares about is your resume. The first—and only—thing that Big Law firms look at when they first get your resume is your GPA. If it meets their cut off, they read the rest of the resume. No one really cares about the cover letter and there’s a 99.99% chance that your interviewing attorney hasn’t even seen it, much less read the damn thing.

In other words, please, for the love of God, DO NOT CALL OUT THE TYPO to your interviewer. Aside from making you look completely insane, it’ll just draw attention to something they probably would never have had a chance to notice. Now, if by some ridiculous chance someone does notice and call it out to you, own up to it without any fuss…and then run. If an interviewer is enough of a douchebag to ask you to explain a typo during an interview—instead of just asking you meaningless questions while silently writing you off like any true Big Law pro would do—you can be sure you’re dealing with a bush-league firm and you don’t want to work there anyway.

So, take a deep breath, cleanse this minor discretion from your mind, put on your best interview smile—and for Chrissakes’, make sure to hit “spell check” before you hit “print” next time, ‘k?

Good luck!

Need advice? Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I’m about to start my second year at law school (T20) and will be participating in fall OCI and am hoping to land a job at a big law firm for next summer (I know, don’t shred me for that, please).  My school offers “mock interviews” with alumni and I just went on mine.  The interviewer was pretty nice but suggested that I remove the very, very small nose ring stud that I wear.  I actually dress pretty conservatively and looked professional for the interview—skirt suit, hair neatly tied back, sensible shoes and all that.  I don’t think the nose ring is offensive and it’s part of my style and who I am.  I don’t ever take it out and don’t think I should have to compromise my principles and who I am just to get a job.  BUT, I also want to get experience working in a big firm and I worry that it might stop me from getting through the door, as stupid as that may be.  Will firms really care about this in interviews or is my mock interviewer just an uptight big-firm prick?

A: Hm. The question seems to be less about whether your mock interviewer is an uptight big-firm prick (and chances are, he is, but that has nothing to do with nose rings) and more about whether you’re suited to work in Big Law in the first place. Why do you even want to work there? Because I hate to break it to you, but Big Law’s a pretty uptight place—the kind of place where wearing jeans is cause for a firm-wide meeting. Nose rings don’t even make the agenda. And if you think that people who disapprove of nose rings (i.e. 99.9% of the people who work in Big Law) are pricks, why do you want their approval in the first place?

Because here’s the thing: If there’s one thing that working in Big Law requires, it’s compromising who you are for the job—well, unless who you are happens to be a person with no edge, humor, personality, joie de vivre or desire to have a social life. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s admirable that you don’t want to compromise your staunch principles just for this job. But what “principles” are we dealing with here, exactly? The ones that involve equal rights for fans of decorative body jewelry? We’re not debating ethnic cleansing or genital mutilation here, cookie. We’re debating a crusty metal chip stuck in your nose. (And speaking of which, I’d be remiss if I didn’t give you a heads up that the pretty-girl-with-an-ironic-nose-ring look may have worked to boost your cool factor in college, but when you’re an actual grown-up, wearing a nose ring with a suit doesn’t make you look unique and edgy; it makes you look a poser from the suburbs who’s still trying to piss off Mommy and Daddy but didn’t want to commit to a tattoo.  Just sayin’.)

So, if you really want to have a shot at Big Law, just play the game and take the goddamn ring out of your nose. An hour without it won’t kill you or erase your finely honed sense of self. Because you’re right—you shouldn’t have to compromise who you are to get a job. You also shouldn’t have to, say, be nice to your in-laws on Thanksgiving or give your BF a BJ just ’cause it’s his birthday. Sometimes, though, you have to do something you’re not thrilled about for the sake of your own personal greater good. Just make sure that greater good is something you want in the first place.

Good luck!

Need advice? Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I’m a rising 2L at a top-tier law school.  I smoked a lot of weed in college, and I continued that right through 1L year. I don’t think it really affects my ability, both in school and at work, since I’m not high during class or in the office.  My question is, do you think this can continue?  More specifically, do law firms drug test their employees, and if they do, is a positive marijuana test a dealbreaker?  —High and Mighty

A: Here’s one of the fun things about working at a law firm: In at least a few key ways, it differs slightly from working at, say, Wal-Mart. One of them is that law firms don’t typically expect you to pee in a cup before they hand you the keys to your office. See, here’s the thing about working in Big Law—the powers that be don’t particularly give much a rat’s ass what you do in your time out of the office, as long as it doesn’t (i) cut down on their profits per partner, or (ii) make the firm look bad. Sure, your state bar and the fine people who administer the MPRE may claim otherwise in theory, but in practice, if you want to spend your nights and weekends stumbling around your apartment like it’s some sort of ersatz Phish tour, have at it. Just sober up by the time you get to work. And don’t get arrested.

One thing you need to realize though: If you’re the kind of kid who needs to smoke “a lot” of weed, as you say, working at a big firm doesn’t really seem to be in the cards for you, at least not as a long-term gig. There’s no question that law school is basically an extension of college, only with more reading and admittedly uglier people, so it makes sense that your little hobby hasn’t had much of an impact (at least according to you). Once you get into Big Law, though, it’s a whole different ball game, honey.  You managed to get into a “top-tier “law school, so you can’t be that much of an idiot, but the stoner-with-a-brain persona that may have worked for you in school isn’t going to win many fans at a law firm. Remember: Your average Big Law firm is little more than a billable hours factory filled with type-A nerds where the kid with the biggest billables and the best bonus is king.  Being able to work 80 hours straight with no sleep, catching typos, and generally being a laser-focused lunatic are the metrics for “cool” in Big Law—not the ability to make a bong out of a mango.

Bottom line: Your weed habit probably won’t stop you from getting through the door of the firm, but it’s not gonna be a helluva lot of fun once you’re there. So, if being high (not to mention mighty) is so important to you, at least have the good sense to to pick a habit that gets you up to speed with the rest of the profession.

Good luck!

Need advice? Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  Do you have any advice on what to do about deferred start dates? My AmLaw100 firm—like every firm nowadays—deferred our start dates until January 2010.  From a financial perspective, I can wait until January to start working. It’s what I’m supposed to do from now until January that has me rattled. I’m afraid deferring our start dates is just a way to postpone our inevitable firings—in other words, I’m worried there won’t be a job waiting for me in January. Originally I was just going to travel after taking the Bar exam until I started work in September; when I got news of the deferment, I figured I’d just extend my trip.  Yet as more lawyers get fired, I can’t help but think I should be looking for a back-up job, just in case things don’t work out as I planned with BigLaw and I’ve got to look for something new.

It seems wrong to look for a full-time position while I still have intentions of going back to my firm in January (if they’ll still have me), yet which smart small-to-mid-sized firm will hire me if I’m honest and tell them I might be leaving in a few months?  I could volunteer at a PD’s office or something, but that kind of work has no relation to my future practice (transactional), and frankly I don’t want to do criminal defense work.  On top of everything, public interest jobs are surprisingly hard to come by now that every recent Tier 1 graduate is being paid $70k by their firms if they’ll do pro bono work for a year—I’ve been told they’re simply running out of desks to accommodate all the recent grads who are flocking to help them.  What should I do?

A:  Well, first things first, if it isn’t already screamingly obvious, please, for the love of god, don’t extend your Bar trip.  Don’t also, say, pop into Prada and scoop up nine or ten suits on your way to the BMW dealer to sign up a new 7-series.  This is not the time to spend money just to pass the time—because you’re absolutely right to worry that your firm may not exactly be waiting with open arms—and a steady paycheck—come 2010. That said, don’t panic either—you’re not as screwed as you might think.  Just the fact that you can get by financially until January puts you at a huge advantage over the majority of the poor slobs in the Class of ’09 who are in your same shoes—or worse.

The main problem here is that your chances of getting any paying legal job to bide your time with until January (and possibly beyond) are basically zero.  You’re competing with truckloads of laid-off actual lawyers who at least have a year or two of law firm experience on their resumes.  As a new law school grad, it’s not your fault that you’re basically useless to a law firm (that’s just how the (flawed) system works), but it’s the hard truth, nonetheless—especially when it comes to transactional work.  No law firm, small, mid-sized or otherwise, is going to hand over a paying job, whether they think you might leaving in January or not.

So, here’s what you do:  Pretend you’re a student again.  No, I don’t mean to lie and actually pretend you’re a student, but treat what you do between now and January as resume-building and networking experience versus some kind of back-up job.  Take a look at all the law job boards—there’s actually a fair amount of internships and non-paying work out there at studios, Fortune 500s, etc. that don’t involve having to pretend that you care about the public interest.  The beauty here is that all those laid-off lawyers won’t be snapping up those gigs because they need real jobs, but you’re in a different position. You can work for free until the new year—think of it as a semester-long internship.

Sure, you can do the same at the PD’s office or some other more civic-minded gig if you can even get it, but as you mentioned, that has nothing to do with the kind of work you want to do and won’t really sweeten your resume for transactional work.  (As you’ll soon learn when you get to a firm, no matter what they say, corporate departments at big firms couldn’t give a rat’s ass about how many pro bono adoptions or low-income eviction cases you’ve first-chaired.  They care about business experience and deal work.  Period.)  Now, sure, you won’t make any money with an internship, but they won’t care if you’re leaving in January, and more to the point, if the January job falls through, there’s always a chance they may take you on permanently—or at least be able to help you network for other paying jobs at law firms or beyond.

One last silver lining:  If your firm does indeed revoke your offer come January, or try to push the start date back even further, or hire you and then lay off all the first years a few months later, chances are—especially if it’s a decent AmLaw 100 firm looking to keep up with the market—there’ll be some sort of severance/ “go away” payout coming your way.  So you shouldn’t be left totally high and dry, at least not for a few months.

So, bottom line: Start pimping out your free labor to every corporation you can find and see if anything lands.  And deal with January…in January.  And a few years from now, when you’re in your office at 3 a.m. doing diligence for a deal that won’t die for some lunatic masochist partner with a typo fetish, you’ll look back on your “4L internship” with affection.  Trust me.

Good luck!

Need advice?  Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I’m going to start work at a NYC Big Law firm in a few months. As part of the move to New York, I’m going to have to find a new psychiatrist and psychologist.  I understand that having a platoon of mental health professionals is de rigeur for a lot of New Yorkers—I’m just trying to fit in.  So I’m not asking for recommendations as to particular therapists (at least until I know more about my health insurance options).  Rather, I’m wondering how I should sneak away from work to do this?  I assume most therapists have some limited evening availability, but I bet I’m not the only lawyer with this problem.  Is competition for an evening slot cutthroat?  Also, I feel like I can only ask my secretary to cover for me for so long.  Even if I found a psychologist I really liked, who was really close to the office, we’re still looking at an hour and a half of limited ’berry access, plus another hour of sitting at my desk seething with hate for my mother afterward.  That’s a long time for my secretary to pretend I’m unavailable in a meeting.

Help?

A:  Let’s make a quick list: (1) two-hour-long deep tissue massages, (2) long weekends in the Napa Valley, (3) reading the Sunday Times over a steaming hot latté, (4) Pilates, (4) sex, (5) sleep, (6) joy.  These are the first few items on the List of Things You Will Never Again Have Time For If You Are a Big-Firm Lawyer.  And I hate to break it to you, but wedged in there somewhere between, say, Pilates and sex, is therapy, psycho- or otherwise.

Look, despite how many Woody Allen movies you may have seen, not every single New Yorker has time for therapy (although, sadly, the ones who don’t probably need it the most).  It’s great that you’re trying to keep your mental health under control as you slide into your new life as a Big Firm lawyer, but I have to tell you, if mental health is high on your list of priorities, you are entering the wrong damn profession, honey.  That said, if you’re going to hold on to the hope that you’ll be able to maintain a relationship—well, period, but a relationship with a  new therapist, specifically—there are definitely a couple of things you can try to up the ante for success.

First, obviously, look for a therapist with weekend hours. They’re out there; this is New York.  Failing that, though, you can try to make a standing weekly appointment with one on “evening hours,” as you suggest, but as you’ll quickly realize, 7 p.m. is roughly the equivalent of noon at a Big Firm in terms of “end of the day” and 9 times out of 10, you’ll wind up having to cancel.  Now, sure, you can try to pull the “medical appointment” bit, but that gets old quick and you don’t want people thinking you have some sort of frail constitution or weird medical ailment.

Your best bet is to aim for aim for the earliest morning appointment you can get and get to the office as soon as possible.  Do not tell your secretary where you really are—yet another thing you’ll soon realize is that your secretary is not your friend and her primary concern is to cover her own ass at all times, not yours.  Do tell her, though, along with anyone else who asks, that you’re at ongoing physical therapy for the non-disease-like injury of your choice—a bum back, sciatica or knee-related injuries work well.  Just pick something that’s not self-indulgent and most importantly, threatens your ability to get yourself to the office if not treated.

If you keep a low profile and maybe limp a little around the office now and then, you should be able to keep a steady line to your therapist for a least a few months, if not longer.  And if you do get busted, remember the silver lining: After a few months of working in Big Law, when it comes to sitting at your desk seething with hate over the players in the tortured theatre of your life, dear old Mom will be nothing but a distant memory.

Good luck!

Need advice?  Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I think I’m screwed, but please confirm or deny: I’m a second-year associate at a V10 firm and last Fall, I transferred to the firm’s San Francisco office from Chicago.  By some miracle, I wasn’t laid off when the firm sacked a ton of associates in January and then I left right after to take the February CA bar exam.  And I just found out that I failed it.  I didn’t feel like I aced it for sure when I took it, but I didn’t see this coming and literally almost threw up when I found out. Work has definitely been slow at the firm, especially for me since I didn’t really know anyone as a lateral and then disappeared to take the bar exam.  Now that I’ve failed it, I’m paranoid that I’m going to get fired. Apparently my firm’s policy is to give a second chance for bar failures, but in this economy, that seems unlikely (and I’m a litigator).  Be brutal if you have to: Am I fired?

A:  Well, yes. You asked for the brutal version, sorry.

You’re right—most big firms do hand out a one-time Get Out of Jail Free do-over card for bar failures.  But you’re even more right that in this crap economy, all bets are off—especially on any sort of perk or practice involving anything even remotely resembling generosity of spirit (or more to the point, wallet).  You just gave them—or, rather, the fine state of California just gave them—a perfect excuse to trim headcount without having to scramble for some lame, fake “performance-related” justification. You might as well have threatened the managing partner’s wife with a sling blade at the firm’s holiday party. They’ll say that they think you’re great, and they wish that they didn’t have to, blah blah blah, but they cannot justify employing an attorney, especially a litigator, who doesn’t possess the required credentials to practice law in this jurisdiction blah blah blah.  With any luck, you’ll walk away with a few months’ severance.  Fight for at least three.

Now, before you get hysterical, keep a few things in mind:  One, the California bar exam is crazy, insane difficult—arguably the hardest in the country (chime in, New Yorkers, to disagree). So, don’t beat yourself up too much for failing it—you’re in surprisingly better company that you’d think.  Two, if you actually do want to stay at your firm, try to negotiate with them a bit—see if they’ll bump your salary back (well, if they haven’t already) until you pass, or let you work on a contract basis until the next bar exam, or stick you in a non-litigation department. Can’t hurt to ask.  If that doesn’t work, just start trolling mid-size and smaller firms and really sell your Big Law experience.  And yes, that includes looking for doc review work; you can’t afford to be picky when you’re competing with hordes of laid-off Big Law juniors who are certified to practice in California. In the meanwhile, sign up for the July bar exam (and start studying now, obvs) and think of the next few months as a temporary gig until the Fall—when the July bar exam results come out.

That all said, you’re not fired yet.  So, enjoy the Big Law life (i.e. salary) while it lasts, keep your head down and proceed with business as usual.   At the very least, collect as many contacts—and office supplies—as you can, and hope for the best.

Good luck!

Need advice?  Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.

Q:  I graduated from a top 15 Ivy League Law School.  I wasn’t your top 10% student and I didn’t do law review. My sole philosophy, basically, was to graduate with my mental health intact.  I did, however, clerk for a federal judge during 1L summer, summered at BigLaw 2L year, and clerked full-time my last semester as a 3L through a judicial externship program.  My 2L summer experience resulted in a job offer, which, of course, was rescinded soon after I took the bar.  After finding myself jobless and in debt, I did the unimaginable: I took a job in my home state (definitely not BigLaw market) at a very small, but prestigious, litigation firm, doing BigLaw work for p-e-a-n-u-t-s. The firm mostly represents the government in high-profile political cases.  I’ve been working for less than six months.  I’m putting my all into this job, and thankfully, I’ve been getting great hands-on experience—as can be expected from a small firm—and have been polishing my lawyering skills, which needed work.

Here’s my question: how do I move on to a bigger firm/market later on?  Am I stuck in small firms (re: salary) forever?  I never even contemplated doing litigation in law school (my specialty was business regulation), but I fear that if I stay in this firm too long I’ll never see a business related assignment ever again.  My one idea is to apply for clerkships in larger market cities, and try to jump from there.  I’m grateful that I have a job, and at least I’m not ambulance-chasing.  But am I stuck?

A:  First of all—and not that you sound particularly panicked—but calm down.  You have a job right now, which is definitely better than sitting at home in your underwear, broke, watching reruns of the Real Housewives of NYC, and reminiscing about those halcyon days of 1L Torts.  Second of first of all, calm down even more, because you are not stuck.  Well, let me clarify:  As long as the legal hiring market continues to be the flaming pile of crap that it currently is, you are actually kinda stuck at this local lit boutique. But but but, you’ve only been working there for six months, not six years, and remember: Even though it doesn’t particularly feel like it right now, this horrid economy is only temporary. Things will eventually turn around, and when they do, you’ll be poised to make the move into BigLaw—with an advantage over all those other rescinded 3Ls who haven’t worked at all.

And here’s why: If your resume was good enough to get you a BigLaw summer associate gig and a permanent offer—well “permanent” at least—then it’s still good enough to get you a BigLaw job again.  And, even better news: Once things do turn around and the BigLaw legal market actually starts hiring again, that old game of chasing the students with the highest GPAs and zero actual work experience or demonstrable legal talent is going to be over.  Even though it’s not necessarily the kind of experience you want, you’re getting tons of it right now at this tiny firm—more than other first years in BigLaw, most of whom spend most of their time nowadays surfing the Internet and placing bets on when the next round of layoffs may happen.  Not to mention, when the economy starts looking up, all of those BigLaw associates who also feel stuck in jobs they hate right now, but can’t leave because no one’s hiring, are going to jump ship faster than you can say “in-house counsel.” And when they do, firms are going to be scrambling to fill their shoes with people who fit the BigLaw fancy law-school-resume profile, but also have some actual valuable experience.  And that’s where you come in, sweetie.

So, keep your head down and try to soak in as much experience as you possibly can at this place.  And if you just can’t stand the boutique anymore, the clerkship idea is more than decent, though it’s probably a bit too late to hook one up for the fall—a prestigious one in a BigLaw market, anyway, which is the only one you’d want, trust me.  (You may also want to look into a  clerkship with the Chancery Courts in Delaware; Big Firms (their corporate departments, especially) tend to salivate over Chancery clerks and having that on your resume will definitely give you a hiring edge and balance out your lack of corporate experience.) But most of all, just view your current job as a temp or contract attorney gig—something to (productively) fill the time until things turn around. And once they do, you’re OUT…of the frying pan into the BigLaw fire, maybe, but out nonetheless.

Good luck.

Need advice?  Email our Sweet Hot Counsel at counsel@sweethotjustice.com.