An Acrostic Poem About Being A Summer Associate
A is for associates. They're what summer associates become, like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. But what if I'd rather stay a caterpillar? What if flying doesn't seem all that exciting? What if flying means you need to pay for your own lunch?
B is for billing tiny increments of every hour: "wrote an acrostic poem about life as a summer associate / non-billable / 0.4 hours."
C is for copy codes, client codes, and codes of all sorts. Codes for billable time, non-billable time, time spent on "summer associate learning," "professional reading," and "non-billable office maintenance."
D is for due diligence, which means reading through papers looking for stuff. I'm not sure what stuff. Maybe that's my problem.
E is for the emergency kit they gave us on the first day, with a glow-stick, water, energy bars, a heat blanket, a gas mask, and a poncho, but not an emergency Lexis account number, despite those emergencies perhaps being more critical to law firm survival.
F is for the free lunches. "Dessert? Do I really want dessert? Well, if it's free, then I suppose I'd better get dessert. After all, dessert is the best part of every meal. And even better when it's free. Although it's not really free. It's just free to me. But I'm sure I'll have to pay for it someday."
G is for the garbage pail that gets emptied every day, sometimes twice a day, even if all I throw out are a couple of pieces of paper and a small piece of my soul (I'm kidding about the soul part).
H is for the haricot verts. I don't know what they are, but they're on lots of menus. I think it's a vegetable. I bet it sounds better in whatever language it's in than it does in English.
I is for the impossible amount of paper in everyone's office. So much paper. So little time.
J is for the other Jews. Did you know lots of lawyers are Jewish? And that not too many relevant words begin with "J" ?
K is for the Konference Kalls. Yes, I'm cheating. But after K I only have two letters left to do (I'm doing this out of order, as they come to me), and I just want to get finished and post this already. Bonus points to anyone who wants to guess which 2 letters were my last ones, the ones left after K. Hint: I did the intuitively-hardest ones first.
L is for legal research, which, despite what you might think, is often a bit dry.
M is for the masturbating judge you can read about on The Smoking Gun. Bizarre story of a judge who did some bad stuff on the bench. (Thanks to Evan for linking to him.)
N is for the noose. See R.
O is for the oatmeal-scented soap in the bathroom. I like the oatmeal-scented soap. It's soothing.
P is for partners. Partners are scary.
Q is for quiet, when you can hear the hum of the computer, the distant sounds of the printer, the ringing of the phones, the beeping of the elevator, and the screaming from down the hall.
R is for the rope. See N.
S is for having a secretary, despite not really having any need for one, and feeling kind of awkward whenever I ask her something, like what to do with the pile of inter-office mail envelopes I've collected on my desk. "I'll take care of them," she said. "Thanks."
T is for the train I take to work. T is for the terrible-smelling people and the tightly-packed car and the too-frequent announcements of track delays.
U is for UNICEF. They do good work. Look, it was either that or underwear, and I really didn't want to go there, especially not after M.
V is for the view out the window. It's a nice view.
W is for weekends, which summer associates don't have to work, but it seems as if associates sometimes do, which sounds less than wonderful. Wonderful also begins with W. So does Westlaw. I'm a Lexis guy myself, although the fact that I have a preference between the two is sad. Woefully sad. Woefully also begins with W.
X is for the xtra-large paychecks. Even though they're not actually larger-than-life in a Publishers Clearing House sense, they kind of feel like they should be.
Y is for the
Z is for the zipper on my suit pants and how I hope it never breaks, because that would really not be good, and I'd have to buy a new suit I guess, or bring this one to a suit-fixer, or whoever fixes zippers, and I don't want that.
A is for associates. They're what summer associates become, like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. But what if I'd rather stay a caterpillar? What if flying doesn't seem all that exciting? What if flying means you need to pay for your own lunch?
B is for billing tiny increments of every hour: "wrote an acrostic poem about life as a summer associate / non-billable / 0.4 hours."
C is for copy codes, client codes, and codes of all sorts. Codes for billable time, non-billable time, time spent on "summer associate learning," "professional reading," and "non-billable office maintenance."
D is for due diligence, which means reading through papers looking for stuff. I'm not sure what stuff. Maybe that's my problem.
E is for the emergency kit they gave us on the first day, with a glow-stick, water, energy bars, a heat blanket, a gas mask, and a poncho, but not an emergency Lexis account number, despite those emergencies perhaps being more critical to law firm survival.
F is for the free lunches. "Dessert? Do I really want dessert? Well, if it's free, then I suppose I'd better get dessert. After all, dessert is the best part of every meal. And even better when it's free. Although it's not really free. It's just free to me. But I'm sure I'll have to pay for it someday."
G is for the garbage pail that gets emptied every day, sometimes twice a day, even if all I throw out are a couple of pieces of paper and a small piece of my soul (I'm kidding about the soul part).
H is for the haricot verts. I don't know what they are, but they're on lots of menus. I think it's a vegetable. I bet it sounds better in whatever language it's in than it does in English.
I is for the impossible amount of paper in everyone's office. So much paper. So little time.
J is for the other Jews. Did you know lots of lawyers are Jewish? And that not too many relevant words begin with "J" ?
K is for the Konference Kalls. Yes, I'm cheating. But after K I only have two letters left to do (I'm doing this out of order, as they come to me), and I just want to get finished and post this already. Bonus points to anyone who wants to guess which 2 letters were my last ones, the ones left after K. Hint: I did the intuitively-hardest ones first.
L is for legal research, which, despite what you might think, is often a bit dry.
M is for the masturbating judge you can read about on The Smoking Gun. Bizarre story of a judge who did some bad stuff on the bench. (Thanks to Evan for linking to him.)
N is for the noose. See R.
O is for the oatmeal-scented soap in the bathroom. I like the oatmeal-scented soap. It's soothing.
P is for partners. Partners are scary.
Q is for quiet, when you can hear the hum of the computer, the distant sounds of the printer, the ringing of the phones, the beeping of the elevator, and the screaming from down the hall.
R is for the rope. See N.
S is for having a secretary, despite not really having any need for one, and feeling kind of awkward whenever I ask her something, like what to do with the pile of inter-office mail envelopes I've collected on my desk. "I'll take care of them," she said. "Thanks."
T is for the train I take to work. T is for the terrible-smelling people and the tightly-packed car and the too-frequent announcements of track delays.
U is for UNICEF. They do good work. Look, it was either that or underwear, and I really didn't want to go there, especially not after M.
V is for the view out the window. It's a nice view.
W is for weekends, which summer associates don't have to work, but it seems as if associates sometimes do, which sounds less than wonderful. Wonderful also begins with W. So does Westlaw. I'm a Lexis guy myself, although the fact that I have a preference between the two is sad. Woefully sad. Woefully also begins with W.
X is for the xtra-large paychecks. Even though they're not actually larger-than-life in a Publishers Clearing House sense, they kind of feel like they should be.
Y is for the
Z is for the zipper on my suit pants and how I hope it never breaks, because that would really not be good, and I'd have to buy a new suit I guess, or bring this one to a suit-fixer, or whoever fixes zippers, and I don't want that.
posted by Anonymous @ 7:55 PM
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