Some days my greatest achievement is not crying at my desk.

I think there is a reputation of law practice in general, and litigation practice groups within firms most especially, as stressful and emotionally trying places. (Although I think most people think their jobs are especially stressful and emotionally draining so I am reticent to claim special status.)

Anyway, we are in the midst of a trial. It isn't a trial I have done much work on, but once a trial start it becomes an all hands situation; whatever other priorities you may have had get put on hold and you help as soon as you are asked. I was asked to help with a research project that seemed like it should have an obvious and straightforward answer but, as is often the case with simple questions, had no discernible answer whatsoever. I cobbled together the best answer I could, but it was not what the partner wanted. (The partner who is under a huge amount of stress, who is sleep deprived, and who just wanted a clear answer.) He was not happy and I heard about it.

So I kept my head down and worked. I kicked off my super cute and impractical shoes and kept my "desk shoes" on- even in the library and copy room. I billed a ton (which is the upside of this) even with my headache from straining to keep it together. I talked myself out of buying a new pair of amazing work pants, that I really want but absolutely do not need. (When I get upset I have a very bad habit of saying f**k it, I am going to buy it.) Basically it was an entire day teetering on an emotional razor-blade because I felt incompetent.

The partner wasn't loud, or rude or mean; just exceedingly disappointed; which is so much worse. In telling the story to her my mom asked "but why didn't you defend yourself to him?" That is a complicated question. I am sure part of it is a passivity born of being taught the importance of being "nice" above all. But that isn't it alone, a part of it is that you can never be certain that there isn't a better answer you didn't find, with millions of cases and statutes and rules, not to mention articles and legislative history- you can't read it all. Plus there is the ever looming fact that the line between explaining and making excuses can be thin, and taking responsibility and fixing the problem (or at least moving on) is much preferred to perceived excuses.

Anyway, today is a new day and last night the second chair sent me an email thanking me for my help, which I am taking to mean I am not getting fired.

Things My Job Has Taught Me: Part III (I am so incredibly lucky)

So this is another perspective post...
We have a large murder trial going on in court right now, it is gang related so security is pretty tight and everyone is a little jumpy. The worst part about the whole thing is the number of children involved: each of the two defendants have at least one child. The victim and most of the witnesses, many of whom were (legally) children when the murder occurred, have children. Most days we have four or five children in the courtroom who are anywhere from infancy to elementary school aged.
Now anyone who knows me knows my general tolerance for children is low, but really a child in a courtroom? It would be distracting and inappropriate in any circumstance (I am sorry there are some places that children don't belong, especially children who misbehave these include courtrooms, boardrooms, romantic restaurants and lecture halls.) And even if social mores and the rules of polite company don't bother you, do you really want your four year old listening to graphic shooting testimony or seeing autopsy photos blown up to life size?
I tend to be all for honesty and openness with children, I think that my parents treating me and my inquires with respect helped spring my intellectual curiosity. But there is something to be said for preserving childhood,  and I can't imagine that you have much in the way of childhood memories when you are exposed so young to the criminal justice system. It is by the luck of birth that I was born to an upper middle class white family and my first exposure to the law was visiting the Supreme Court at four. The archetype for me to mold myself to Earl Warren. I try to remember that not everyone has positive images and hope for their own future, that there are so many whose  model is absent or in shackles.

Things My Job Has Taught Me: Part II (You are not an Idiot or Failure)

When you go straight from a top research institution for undergrad to law school you get used to feeling like it is normal to have deep if esoteric discussions. And, unless you are truly exceptional, you also get used to feeling unaccomplished and idiotic. As a law student everyone one you know can rattle off multi-factor tests and Latin phrases without batting an eye. All of my law school friends (because if you didn't guess they are in law school) all working on becoming part of the 2% of Americans with professional doctoral degrees. Every time we go to a networking event, or informational seminar, a meeting or a social mixer it is with lawyers, suddenly none of your accomplishments are all that special or unique, this is even more true when you start passing you resume around begging people to let you work for them (generally for free.)
Basically I live in a world where the strange has become normal.
Coming home this summer has put this in perspective. At my job I sit in an office where they bring "defendants in custody" past my door all day. Generally these people are in jump suits and shackles, sometimes they are in suits neatly groomed to be in front of a jury, but nearly always they are young. Or my age.
Suddenly the fact that mixed up crimen falsi and crimen innominatam when being called on to answer a question doesn't mean I am the biggest loser on the planet doomed to fail fail.
I guess a little perspective is a good thing.

Things My Job Has Taught Me: Part I

I am working this summer and, in addition to useful, educational and  important things, I have learned quite a bit that I couldn't put on a resume, or talk about in an interview but that are significant none the less. So I will be sharing them as they come up from here on out.
The first one:
If you are a defense attorney defending meth users and dealers, don't look like you are a meth head. I understand that you are probably naturally gaunt, and we haven't had much sun so your pallor is excusable, and maybe you are colorblind so the fact that your jacket and slacks are wrinkled and miss-matched doesn't stand out to you.
But really the missing tooth is over the top.