May 25, 2006

Be Careful What You Wish For

Okay, so you know those health quizzes where they talk about stress factors and events contributing to heart attacks? You know: "If you started a new job, add one point. If you had a death in the family, add 3, and 2 more if it was a close relative like a parent, spouse, or child." Right. That kind. Maybe I'm only making one up (because I couldn't find it doing a half-assed Google search for something like that; perhaps typing in "heart attack stressful events death job" isn't enough), but I'm pretty sure that I've seen these, and all I know is that they suggest you limit the number of such events to as few as possible over as long a period of time. Yes, yes, you're not supposed to love, move away from home, work, get married, etc. Then you'll live forever. However, despite no longer being a teenager--and frankly, never having been one of the ones who thought he was invincible or whatever--I do fully recognize my own mortality, and rather than take another vitamin or schedule a prostate exam, I have apparently wholeheartedly embraced the Stressful Events Vortex as though it were a Sunday morning toilet bowl and I was a frat-boy who found a free case of Boone's Farm late on Saturday afternoon. I got myself married to S, who is now S Blue Shoe. Two days before the wedding I was offered a new job, doing music law work for a firm I have always wanted to work for, and then upon returning, the Missus and I packed all of our stuff (okay, our friends Torrie and K, along with some movers packed it all up), and we moved, and then I accepted the job at the end of the last week. If you add that up, that's 3 Major Life-Changing, Personal World-Shattering, Heart Attack-Inducing Events in the space of three weeks. I'll see you when I get out of the ICU next month some time.

Appeared at 6:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

December 21, 2005

Cold As Ice

When I was a but a little shoe, I had a friend who rode horses. For some reason, a lesson he told me stuck with me. To this day, I don't know if it's accurate or not, but I remember it from time to time. He told me that when you're riding a horse at a gallop, you can't just make it stop; you have to slow it to a walk and then bring the horse-rider combination to rest. If you don't--he said--you end up making the horse's stomach tie up all in knots and kill it. When I first heard the story, I wondered if that was something that could happen to humans. I doubted it, but I wondered anyway. And we all know the benefits of cooling down. But this is what is frustrating me, personally, about the transit strike. I won't get into the politics of it, because I make a very healthy wage, and I recognize that sometimes drastic measures are needed to call attention to issues. I also won't get into the fact that I would really have preferred that the workers went on strike in the springtime, where I didn't freeze myself on the 25 block walk to work. I also recognize I've got it pretty good on that front. This week, I've been coming to work with nothing to do and leaving without having done anything. It may be letting the cat out of the bag a bit to say that the majority of my clients are investment managers running hedge funds, and that many of them were required to file their registrations with the SEC last week. This means that the majority of my work suddenly was completed, and my superior from whom I get all of that work has gone on a (well-deserved) little vacation. At the same time, I've had a project with a very senior member of my firm who doesn't seem to be very concerned with making forward progress. In reality, I know it's that he's worried about the forward progress of far more lucrative and time-sensitive clients, but the fact is that my emails don't get returned and my voicemail take at least 3 days to provoke a response. Which is why it's a true delight to call him and check in (what a bizarre situation that one of the most-junior people in the firm is calling one of the most senior to ask him to pay some attention) only to find out that he has gone on vacation for the week without telling me. Result: no work on that project for Shoe. Which brings me back to being the horse--I was busy, I was very busy, and then suddenly, I have literally nothing to do. I spent 18 minutes yesterday doing client-related work. Yet I had to walk to work, and I had to walk home. And when you are forced to dress up nice-like, trek in eye-watering cold to a job at which you need to be, but have nothing to do after having raced all year…well, that's just a recipe for getting your insides all twisted up.

Appeared at 11:16 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

August 31, 2005

Just Put the Phone Down, And No One Gets Hurt

All right, this one is going to be very simple. Shoe's first rule of cell phone usage: If you're important enough to be interrupted during dinner by someone calling you on your cell phone from work--you're important enough to tell them to leave you alone until the bill has come. PS Sorry for the slow emailing, but I'm basically rebuilding my computer very very slowly.

Appeared at 12:19 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

August 10, 2005

Knives Out

One of the hazards of my profession is that you rarely get a normal meal. One is constantly eating in or eating out. Food is almost always eaten at a desk or a conference table. But somehow today, I discovered that I have about a gross of utensils, and only one fork. I have enough knives to arm a third of China, but nothing to put the food into my mouth. Tragedy.

Appeared at 11:44 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

June 9, 2005

Warning

Incidentally, partners: It is not a "reminder" if you didn't tell us before. Also, 9pm at night is no time to tell people to be at the office at 9am the next day.

Appeared at 12:41 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

April 23, 2005

Your Chosen Profession Sucks

It's not often that you wish you'd made certain life choices differently, and it's certainly never something you want to have to confront. However, this week, right before my much needed first "real" vacation of a week--the first since I started this job well over 7 months ago--I was forced to consider the question. Who the hell wants to be a lawyer? Well, me obviously, but the question was being asked because I'd been asked to temporarily replace someone on a deal yet found myself in a conversation with a known-to-be-volatile partner that went something like this. "Can you come to my office for a moment?" "Sure." [He closes the door.] "I understand you and your fiancee are going on vacation next week," "Yes, we are." "Do you think you could stick around and...not take your vacation?" How does one say no to this? No, I'll explode if you do this. No, this is Tuesday, I leave Friday, what are you thinking? No, I might cry. No, no, no, a thousand times no. While I did solicit advice and eventually managed to get him off my back, the simple fact that someone would ask me if I would not going on vacation 3 days before I was to leave, when they knew when I was staffed on the deal that I was going on vacation (a month ago), struck me as the sort of delusion that I really have no interest in ever becoming familiar with. And in that moment, I also wondered whether I should reconsider if such a question was the source of the mind of a deal junkie that I ought to get off of my back.

Appeared at 3:40 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

March 23, 2005

Bar None

Here's one to keep the kids up at night: I'm a lawyer. No more disclaimer on the email, no more hedging with "I work at a law firm" when asked what I do. I am a lawyer, an attorney, a counselor, a member of the bar. Esquire, thy name is Blue Shoe. And on some level, I'm not surprised or bothered by this. I passed hurdles, both objective (the bar exam) and subjective (the "interview" where they review your application and then patronize you with the need to do pro bono that they never do), and ludicrous (law school, the LSAT, the pain of the bar exam). But on the other hand, though this is the result of years of study and ambition, there is this part of me that is terrified of messing it up, terrified (still worse) of messing someone else up, and just about terrified that this too suggests I might be too old for sight gags and coarse comedy.

Appeared at 1:18 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

March 19, 2005

Where to Begin?

Yes, yes, I know how long it's been. And it definitely isn't that I've had nothing to say or no way to say it. I've just had no time. Where the first few months of being a "lawyer" had moments of long hours and punishing schedules, the digital turn from 2004 to 2005 was as though I suddenly was wearing a neon sign marked "Gun for Hire", and hired I was. Put simply, I worked enough in the first two months of the year to take the next one off, and as long as I kept a lesser pace later on, I would have still made target billables and earned what I now recognize to be a very deserved bonus. Of course, this late in March, you can guess that I did not take the month off, and am--with roughly 2 weeks left to go--about to hit target once again. That said, this is an apology for being gone (lame though acknowledging it apparently is), and the one theme that has echoed through my brain of late: Music I got addicted to in the last year. * Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlanticism. That album which started me into an addiction of Death Cab albums, it's got both the pop and the angst and the rockin' all in one little package. You expect geeky indie rock, and you get it, but it's not that hipper-than-thou Strokes garbage. It's quirky, and it's painful, but you want to sing along anyway. * John Butler Trio - Sunrise Over Sea. It just came out in the US on Tuesday, but I got my hands on this about a year ago, and it was one of the most infectious albums I've ever heard. You feel the rhythm automatically, having never heard songs before, and the blues-rock thing, which seems so old is suddenly new again. * Anything by Jeff Buckley - I don't know what happened, but suddenly I couldn't not have everything the man made. Always interesting, and now of course, I wish I'd seen him live before he died. Of course, at that time, I wasn't allowed to go to concerts. * The Postal Service - Give Up. Okay, this is sort of a Death Cab side project, what with the singer being Ben Gibbard, but this just doesn't go away and doesn't get old, no matter how many dozens of times in a row you play it. * Ani DiFranco - Knuckle Down. She went a little weird on us, but this new album of hers, which came out in January is perhaps the most consistently listenable of the last five years, and it's definitely more consistently listenable than most music out there these days. Good good stuff. And lastly, a quick question--what is it with all of the musicians I've loved for years suddenly coming out with Best Ofs? Suddenly, it's as though Pearl Jam, Live, Better Than Ezra, Counting Crows, and others are suddenly old enough to have Greatest Hits albums. Does this mean I got old? Or did they just all lose/fulfill their contracts as I was getting old enough to understand that?

Appeared at 2:52 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

January 26, 2005

And so it begins

One night at dinner about a year and a half ago, my mother confessed to me that she was pleased and intrigued by the way my dad and I had started talking to each other, now that I was well into my legal studies and could talk intelligently with him about his profession and my future career. I can't recall the exact phrasing--it is, after all, 1:30am and I'm writing rather than getting some time in the rack--but I seem to remember a vague swell of pride in her voice as she recounted as much to me. I'm fairly certain that, after tonight's conversation, with me on speakerphone and my folks at home, that she's going to regret having not more thoroughly dissuaded me from following the likes of the Justices and the Judges. Aside from the serendipitous fact that dad and I were dealing with precisely the same legal issue today#[legal], I think my mom was getting a bit peeved by the fact that we were arguing with each other over just which provision of the Delaware General Corporate Law it was governing transfers, rather than continuances, into other states. I am, apparently, my father's son. [legal]: moving a domestic company from Delaware into a foreign jurisdiction, like the Cayman Islands. Needless to say, when I'm a giant corporation, I plan on using that damn knowledge.

Appeared at 1:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 18, 2005

Zzzzz....Wha?

Dear higher-ups, bosses, co-workers, and the like: When you say "Rest up tonight; you won't get much sleep in a couple of days"? Yeah, that's not so restful.

Appeared at 11:25 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 7, 2005

Bienvenido a Miami

So it is possible, if not likely, that in the next week, I will be traveling to warmer--if not actually sunny--Miami for business. This is a bit odd. My first professional business trip. For my previous life, a business trip was down to J&R to get some competitors' CDs or around the corner for a Starbucks. Once I took a contract to a fairly well-known band and was the ultra-preppy geek waking up some very smoky and hungover indie rock cool guys. That was fun. So really, the only business trip one can say I ever took was to Woodstock. And let's face it, sleeping in a damp, mildewy basement, or between two tables while CDs were sold over your head, and running from flaming riots probably doesn't constitute "business trip." So I guess this means that, if not growing up, I'm at least getting older.

Appeared at 12:42 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

November 16, 2004

Load Lifter

Phew. > NAME: NEW BLUE SHOE > Date of Birth: NBS DAY > The State Board of Law Examiners congratulates you on passing the New York State bar examination held on July 27-28, 2004. Although every effort is made to ensure the accuracy of this lookup screen, each applicant must rely on the official notification (via U.S. Mail) as to whether he or she has passed the examination. > An official certification notice has been mailed and will contain your Multistate Bar Examination (MBE) scores. The notification which has been mailed is a required part of your application for admission to the Bar. In order to allow a reasonable time for the results to arrive by mail, requests for duplicate notices received prior to November 29, 2004 will be disregarded. Although there is normally a $10 charge for a duplicate, due to the possibility of loss or damage in a bulk mailing, there will be a grace period with no charge for those requests received prior to March 1, 2005. I so deserve a chocodile.

Appeared at 7:13 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 15, 2004

Atwitter

I don't know that, as a male shoe, I could really describe myself as "being all aflutter", but there are only a few ways to balance out the years of compliments on my schooling and the very insecure, rather anal retentive core of me-ness that drove me to be a lawyer. The random stranger on the phone, the new acquaintance, the old love, the parents--they all say the same thing, and I would love to have their conviction, but this is one where I did it all by myself, and their support, while both kind and wanted (and indeed, needed), isn't going to be enough to convince the bar examiners that I deserve to become a member of their elite--if not illustrious--little club. So while I try to sleep, and like all the other neo-natal-lawyers try to let thoughts of sugarplum bar examiners dance in my head, I'm also panic stricken. The beauty is: I've got about 8 hours until I know.

Appeared at 11:25 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 19, 2004

There's More of This?

Tomorrow marks the one month anniversary of This. I’m in total shock.

This.

This? You ask.

This.

This is life at BigFirm, which is really the shorthand we attorneys-in-waiting and attorneys-not-waiting call BigFirmWhoseNameShan’tBeSpokenInFull. It’s not that we can’t, but that after the third or forth Semitic or Protestant name in a row, we start to get dizzy and forgetful, or just fatigued, and besides, while every lawyer can name the first two names of every BigFirm out there, only the ones that are at BigFirm can name the rest of the founding/named partners.

But I’ve already digressed. As I said, tomorrow marks one month of This, and I cannot believe it.

Part of it has to do with what a novice rookie I am at it all—and to be fair, let’s also admit that two weeks were either administrative or jury duty-bound. But the fact is, that I feel like I’m stumbling around without a clue. A sighted man in a very dimly-lit room filled with equal numbers of vats of gold and manure.

And it’s this disequilibrium—if there is such a word, and if there isn’t, its confounding spelling should be a good enough indicator of how you feel when experiencing it—that is at the heart of my problems with This.

I am waiting for the vacation or the dream to be over and to get back to school, or, in the alternative, to finally feel like what I’m doing makes sense. I’m afraid of not ever knowing what I’m doing, of being a newbie-novice forever. And at the same time, as it all becomes familiar, I wonder how or even if, I’ll do this every day for a month, a week, a year.

And then I realize, I’ve come this far, and a month went by like a day.

Appeared at 10:21 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 14, 2004

30 Days In The Hole

I just convicted a man of a crime. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. It was also one of the most important.

At the end of the trial, the judge quoted another, deceased judge, who said there were only two things the government asks you to do. The first is to fight for your country. The other, to serve on a jury. That indicates just how crucial jury service is—it’s on par with defense of the country. One might even argue that jury duty itself is a form of defending the country, from within.

I found this somewhat comforting, after I made a decision I never thought would be so hard. I have spent years discussing the jury system, learning about it, and crime, and virtually everything that goes into the administration of justice; I had always thought that being on a jury would be like writing a paper. You do the research, you examine and explore the issues, mining testimony for fact, and in the end, you and your eleven jury-mates—forced to be friends for a fixed period of time—come to the only logical conclusion.

Of course, I always knew that there were such things as hung juries, and I consistently believed that they were a natural outgrowth of either bad lawyering, or bad circumstances. However, I never believed that I’d be the one who might send a jury to that point. I found myself arguing the very legalistic point of whether the Government had actually done its job and proven its case beyond a reasonable doubt. Meanwhile, the rest of the jurors had already gotten me to admit that I believed the person had done that of which he had been accused. Yet I persisted in saying that although the Government had presented all this evidence, I didn’t believe they had actually proved that the defendant was guilty.

As the day progressed, I did come to the realization that he was definitely guilty, and that the only doubt I had had to do with the fact that this was so serious—I was sending someone to jail. My doubt was purely emotional, and while a reasonable emotion, it was not the sort of doubt about the proof that a reasonable person would entertain.

Clearly, then, I feel that the decision I made was right, and I was glad to have been exposed to the other side of the lawyer’s experience. But I did realize that it was hard. And while I’m totally unsure as to whether I could ever pull a trigger or coordinate an attack on behalf of my country, at least I know for sure that I can sit on a jury and find the facts.

Appeared at 7:53 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack