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Hellphones
You know what? I hate cellphones. You know why? Because I'm way too stupid to use them and now it might cost me a job. Here's the story:
I was in court the other day—all dressed up in my monkey suit, my fancy leather briefcase (a great gift from L. to make me look all lawyerlike) all filled with client files, and my cellphone on vibrate in the outer pocket. The judge hadn't taken the bench yet so I was talking to the clerk about what I had on the docket that day. The prosecutor and I had worked out a plea deal that the clerk was not going for and he was saying he couldn't call my case until I did x and y. As he's telling me that basically the best hope I had of getting my client out of jail that day—which was really the whole point of taking the plea—might not work out, my cellphone started vibrating. Now, one thing you learn quickly in court is that the “judicial assistant” (aka “court clerk”) can be your best friend or your worst enemy, so I wanted to do what this man was telling me to do and I wanted to show him the respect he deserved, and I also wanted to get this little matter resolved. So my only thought when the phone started vibrating was to make. it. stop. And since I was really more focused on what the clerk was saying, my automatic response to stop the vibrating was to—wait for it—open the damn phone!
But, of course, when you open my phone while it's ringing (or vibrating), you answer the call. So there I am, in court, talking to the clerk, with my cellphone open in my hand (hanging by my side so the clerk couldn't see it) and someone on the other end saying “hello? hello? *hello?*” What was I going to do? Well, what could I do? I closed the phone. And then I finished the conversation and left the courtroom to do the things the clerk had decided it was necessary for me to do.
A little later when I had a free minute I checked to see who had been calling me. It was a number I only vaguely recognized, so I just called it. And guess what? It turned out to be the number of one of the offices to which I applied for a job a few weeks ago. An office that it might be pretty cool to work in. Maybe. But anyway, it was a potential employer who had been calling me—an unemployed law student w/lots of loans to repay—and I had basically hung up on him (or her)!
But that's no big deal, right? I could just give the office my name and explain that someone had called me and that I had applied for a job so the call was probably about that. Surely that would be enough for them to connect me with whomever it was who had called, right? Wrong. Several days and half a dozen calls later and I'm no closer to learning who called me that day or what it was they wanted. All I get from the office is that it's big and there's really no telling who might have called me and I should just hope they call back.
Awesome, huh? And all because I'm not smart enough to just push the darn “mute” button on the side of the phone instead of answering the darn thing! If I hadn't answered, at least the caller could have left a message with a name and number for me to call! But no. I answered. And the caller heard nothing but maybe some distant sounds from the room and I can only assume that he/she hasn't called back because he/she assumes the number was incorrect or something. Or maybe she/she just went to the next name on the list and I missed my chance. Who knows? I know I don't, and now I probably never will.
Dammit!
Posted 11:27 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack | 3L
Defenders hanging out their shingle
Not Guilty has recently been chronicling the fascinating story of her move from a firm to starting her own firm with a couple of partners. In the latest installment she talks about how wonderfully large her new office is going to be and about shopping for office supplies of her very own. It sounds like an exciting time as she comes closer to being more on her own than she was at the firm.
She also notes that Steven Wells, author of Alaskablawg and the attorney who just won the Rachel Waterman murder case, is also planning to go out on his own. Wells writes:
I am choosing to go into private practice because I look forward to the freedom that allows. There are some things I want to do that I simply cannot right now. I would like, for example, to get into federal work, taking CJA cases. I am also interested in doing international work, which I cannot do right now.
I wish both of them the very best!
Their stories make me wonder if I will ever feel like doing the same. Thus far, I have felt almost no desire to hang my own shingle or attempt to form a small firm with a few partners. And I don't think I'm alone in that. I know only one fellow 3L at GW who is seriously considering trying to make his living next year as a court-appointed criminal defender here in D.C. My own desire is to work in a medium-sized public defender's office where I'll have plenty of experienced people to work with and learn from in my first years of practice.
I'm guessing this desire to work with experienced mentors rather than going it alone is common and stems from the more or less universally acknowledged fact that law school does not teach people how to practice law. Law students graduate with the understanding that they have no idea how to practice the profession for which the J.D. supposedly qualifies them, so we seek positions that will help us learn those things. It's a pretty satisfying thing to pay $150,000 for a degree that basically makes you feel like you don't know your butt from first base.
