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The Tenure Paradox - Robot pimp

Slap on the Wrist for "Non-Consensual Sex" - Lampshade, Esq.

Intelligence: The Gathering - Graphic and Gratuitous

Grads are the New Illegals - Robot Pimp

Meet Entitlement Eric - Robot Pimp

Wherein I Solve World Peace - Lampshade, Esq.

A Necessary Delusion - Shadow Hand

Do you even need to shave overhead? - Lawyerlite

LSAT Jenga - Publius Picasso

Time, Place, and Manner

...Should have some links here or something.


I Got Dumped

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Whoops. Spoiler alert.

I had known “Jessica” from undergrad, though we were just friends then, we didn’t get together until I moved after graduation to the city where she was just starting law school.

Gotta back the story up a little bit more. Consider this my introduction, since I haven’t really done one yet.

My 2L summer I was lucky enough to land a job at a large firm in a large market. The kind of place that gives summer associates $3000 a week and makes them an offer for $160,000 at the end of a 10 week trial period. And that’s what happened to me. Nothing too eventful during the summer, or at least nothing really relevant to the plot of this particular story. I got my offer, accepted it, and gleefully went on to my third year of law school which, with an offer in hand, became mostly about boozing, with a little whoring on the side.

Then my firm imploded. The downfall started around Christmas, with the first sign being associate bonuses heavily slashed. Then layoffs, partner defections, the works. Mid-spring, those of us who had been summer associates were contacted and assured that things were going to be fine, the firm had a contingency plan, and our jobs were safe. Mid-summer we began getting notices of revoked offers and indefinitely deferred start dates. Makes studying for the bar just a little more exciting.

I got lucky though. Not that I kept my position, not that lucky. I was among the batch of indefinite deferrals. I got lucky in getting an offer from a partner I had worked with during the summer. He was spinning off his own firm and needed a couple grunts. The money wasn’t going to be nearly what the big firm had offered. Not even half. I’d heard enough tales about the non-existent job market though, so I quickly accepted. I’d have to live on the cheap side, but at least I wouldn’t be moving to Nebraska. So, I moved to my new city (it’s on the East Coast and I’ll just say that you’ve heard of it), started by new job and got back in touch with my old friend Jessica. And by “back in touch” I mean playing my part to help a first year law student escape from the oppressive stress that can only be relieved with regular, vigorous sex.

Fast forward two years, the sex is only semi-regular and somewhat-vigorous, and the dump-hammer comes crashing down. The reason of record is that with my job I didn’t have enough time for her. I thought that was probably fair. Even though I wasn’t making a lot of money at my job I still had to put in BigLaw type hours. There’d be some 40 hour weeks in there, but mostly in the 50-60 range, with an occasional 70-80. I don’t think I’d become any more occupied with work than when we first got together. But, after a couple of years that sort of relationship can start to wear on someone. So I figured she’d just had as much of it as she could take. I know that feeling, but I don’t have the option escaping the grind.

Sensible as that would be, I figured wrong.

We broke up a few months ago, but I only just now found out the real reason why. A mutual friend (let’s call it “Facebook”) clued me in on what really happened. Immediately after breaking up with me – and I’m saying “after” to be generous, it could have been before – she started seeing a guy she had graduated with. He was one of the lucky few to have a BigLaw offer and a $160,000 salary starting soon. He was going to be working just as much as I am, if not more, so if her complaint with me is that I didn’t have enough time. …Well, I guess those little bits of free time you do have together are more fulfilling if spent over 1789’s $34 halibut instead of MarioKart 64.

[More Lit Up from Lampshade, Esq.]

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