The Laid Off Diary: Dear Diary…this sucks.

Yesterday I watched shorts \”Means to an End\” at the Tribeca Film Festival. There was one that really resonated with me. It is set in a sort of 1984 future where everything is run by Big Brother (but in this movie, it was The Company).

It starts out with the main character (the skinny guy from Road Trip) in a rock field and having to physically separate large boulders in piles by color: blue, red, and white.

His life was mundane. He and his wife had no interaction, at the dinner table or in bed. He wears a jump suit in the rock fields and a suit and tie during his time off and at home. But, oh no, he wants \”more\”. So he sees a doctor for depression who gives him a skills test to \”untap the potential within him\”.

When the results come, he gets a desk job with The Company inside The Building and not in the rock fields. He gets to wear a short sleeve white shirt with a tie instead of a long sleeve white shirt with a tie.  All of a sudden, his wife does him sideways on the kitchen table, she wants to hear all about his day, and his job is \”all what he wanted it to be.\” The short ends with him with a huge smile sitting at a desk in a small cramped office and a huge stack of folders in front of him and he is separating them by color: a stack for green folders, a stack of red folders.

This reminded me of my job at BigLaw. Unlike the main character, my desk job wasn\’t everything I wanted it to be though I felt like I was pretty much just separating the green folders from the red folders. Yeah, the number of people who wanted to do me exponentially increased and the people who wanted to hear about my work also exponentially increased, but I definitely felt that I wanted more too.

–thankful for no more green or red folders

Dear Diary:

Maybe going to law school was a bad career move. Maybe I should have donned a unicorn outfit, played around with a little girl, and shat out golden poop. Then maybe I would still have had a job.

–what the fuck, can’t believe they made a movie out of it, at least the trailer is funny, and why don’t I have a job or a unicorn?

Dear Diary:

The Tribeca Film Festival started this past weekend in NYC. It was started in 2002 by Jane Rosenthal and Robert De Niro in response to the 911 attack in 2001 that shut down and desolated downtown NYC. It hoped to revitalize the downtown area.

It’s a great idea in theory–it shows 250 films in one week (even more films than SXSW), however, to be honest, I’m not sure how it will bring back vitality to downtown being that 99% of the films are at ONE venue (66 3rd ave). (though the japanese convenience store–M2M–is GREAT and has actually pretty good/cheap sushi for a convenience store and also Sapporo that you can sneak into the movie theater).

But, anyway, to tie this back into being unemployed (besides the fact that I paid $10-$17 per movie ticket and feel RIPPED off–ok, let’s hear you guys bitch about how I’m being irresponsible with my severance and I will re-direct you to my Golden Handcuffs post), is what the hell is the NYSBA doing to bring back vitality to be chosen profession or find job openings/experience gaining opportunities for laid off associates? Yeah, you’re little email newsletters help a whole hell of a lot in a not helpful at all sort of way, but seriously. What are you doing? Shouldn’t some bigwig lawyer/justice (sorry, law professors, you guys don’t really count) try to actually start some program to revitalize the legal industry in NYC? All the public interest fairs are targeting law students for the most part (and seriously, I’m way to greedy to want to actually do that–more like my private loan banks are way too greedy to let me take such a job).

I really don’t care about law students. Boo hoo, they can’t start until 2010 or 2011, but they at least have a job and maybe a stipend. Shut up, sit down, and bitch only when called on. For those who worked and then were laid off, there’s always the question as to whether it was a lay off or performance based and we’re pretty much tainted and the poor junior associates (thank god I’m not one of them) are just treading water and gaining NO experience. Not to mention, nobody really wants a lawyer who has been out of BigLaw work for 6-8 months (which, in this market, I’m sure some of our fallen comrades might not find a comprable job for that long–maybe something on a smaller scale sure, but BigLaw is full of pompous  incestual assholes who, for right or for wrong, only want people with BigLaw experience and not some small firm or small corporation experience).

Until the legal profession really makes a big effort to actually organize and revitalize its own damn profession (it’s like we’re fucking cannibals and take some glee or pleasure in the fact that tons of lawyers are getting thrown overboard even though it is detrimentally affecting the legal profession as a whole), I guess I’m going to search the unemployment job postings and look for another job that will pay me six figures. And then I will also adopt a flying pig from the humane society.

–Going to name my new piggy “Bacon”

Dear Diary:

I need to party less.  I’m exhausted. More so than from doing 60 hours of document review. I have yet another party tonight and then an after-party and no excuse because all my friends know I don’t have a job anymore. I have more things on my calendar than I did when I was working. Before when I was working, my schedule looked like this:

Mon: Document Review, go home

Tues: Document Review, go home

Wed: Conference call to see if the deal will ever close, grocery shop, go home

Thurs: Client calls and says closing will be next week, cancel happy hour with coworkers, finalize core document as much as possible, draft collateral documents and closing checklist in anticipation of possible closing next week, hold off on circulating documents and wait for the green light from client, go home.

Fri: Client calls, closing postponed indefinitely. Document review, grab an early drink with coworkers, go home

Sat: Receive email from partner saying closing is now scheduled for Mon. Go to office and double check core document and collateral documents, redline any changes, send to partner, get ok from partner to circulate, circulate to all parties with the caveat that documents are being circulated to all parties at once and remain subject to client’s comments

Sun: Receive comments from other side, client signs of f on document, turn the document and re-circulate

Mon: Show up early to work and prepare for closing, get comments from client even though client previously signed off on document, call client to discuss comments, incorporate client’s new comments and turn document, recirculate, receive more comments from the other side because they were too disorganized to give them to me all at once, call other side and debate certain comments, throw them a bone and accept some comments, turn document and recirculate, participate in several conference calls regarding closing, get thrown under the bus because partner screwed up and got yelled at by client and partner needed a scapegoat.

Monday at 6pm: closing postponed until Tuesday but client wants to sign up documents Monday night to be held in escrow, clear schedule to prepare for late night signing and closing Tuesday.

Monday at 11:30pm: Closing postponed indefinitely but client wants all documents turned just in case we close this week so schedule and make call with other monkey on other side and go over all documents to finalize and incorporate all comments, and finalize all little details like getting names and titles for signature blocks, etc.

Monday at 1am: All documents turned, go home pissed off about being thrown under the bus.

Tues: Document Review, go home

Wed: Document Review, go home

Thurs: Document Review, go home, happy hour with coworkers

Fri: Ah, fuck, more Document Review, go home

Now my schedule looks like this:

Mon: Happy hour, go to a museum, walk in central park, do some grocery shopping, hang out at friend’s apartment and watch a movie, hit a show at Trash Bar in brooklyn and enjoy the open bar.

Tues: Happy hour, a soiree at a friend’s friend’s house, some random networking get together then to watch a broadway play, then go out to a lounge as my friend’s wingperson while friend buys  me drinks in return.

Wed: Lunch with colleagues, make appearance at friend’s birthday party, go to another party, then to after party at a club where friend has a table.

Thurs: Go on some day trip with friend, watch a movie at another friend’s house, have cheap dinner with friends, go to another freaking birthday party, see friend’s bands play, and then to some rootfop bar to enjoy the nice NY weather

Fri: Wake up around noon still drunk, shower drunk, have a late lunch with friends at one of the 50% recession dine in restaurants with a huge hangover, take the ingrate dog out to the park to try to pick up single people after popping 3 tylenols, notice I have run out of clean underwear, turn current underwear inside out and do laundry in time to go out to club where friend has a table, drink free vodka, then go to another lounge with friends, meet random strangers and exchange numbers, go to an after party

Sat: Ah fuck, yet another hangover, rush over to cheap brunch and order the cheapest thing on the menu (around $7), sit in the sun and sweat out alcohol while enjoying a complementary bloody mary, take out ingrate dog, go to late afternoon picnic with friends in central park, go home, watch some television, write on my blog, get dressed, go out to a house party, then to a party at a bar, and then hit a club late night where friend has a table and bottles of vodka.

I am getting worn out. I will write more later after I take my siesta. Drinking on Fridays is getting in the way of my drinking on Saturdays.

Dear Diary:

Have I told you lately how much I love severance? Well, now I’d like to ask my readers two questions:

1. What are you doing with your severance, and

2. What would you do with your severance if you didn’t have to be responsible and “risk averse”?

I foresee typical answers to be:

1. Pay for my trophy wife’s new boob job so she doesn’t leave me

2. Go to Buenos Aires and find a new south american trophy wife  until I run out of money.

OR

1. Repay my student loans

2. Go to Amsterdam and do everything that’s legal in the Netherlands but illegal in the US with the money I would have given Uncle Sam

OR

1. Pay mortgage and pay for food for my ingrate kids

2. Sell my kids and pool the money I make from that with my severance, grow a beard, and go wind surfing on the canary islands with hot spanish chicks.

Ok, your turn.

Dear Diary:

As you know, I’ve applied for unemployment since you aren’t doing much to help with the rent. I was on the New York State Department of Labor’s website and a great and very helpful document posted under their “Recently Awarded NYS Department of Labor Grants” entitled “LAYOFF AVERSION TRAINING ACTIVITIES.”

However, when you click on the link, it just says it is  “currently unavailable and undergoing revision. It will be reposted later this year.”

I’m just not surprised anymore about the idiots who run this state. Was the person in charge of writing the Layoff Aversion Training Activities laid off? And shouldn’t it have been posted, oh I don’t know, LAST YEAR around September? It’s like disseminating a pamphlet on how to avoid herpes to the people who already have herpes.

-maybe I can get a job with the government

Dear Diary:

Now that I have more free time, I watch more television (I guess I could go outside and enjoy the sun or go to a museum, but, nah). And I must admit, that I actually watched the Cougar (for those who don’t know, it’s a new reality dating show where a 40 year old woman (the “Cougar”) is trying to find her true love amongst a bunch of testosterone filled 20 something dudes) and at the end, there is a “Kiss Off” where she calls each guy one at a time and if she kisses them on the lips, they stay, if she gives them her cheek, they’re off the show.

I’m really glad that we didn’t have a Kiss Off at BigLaw (and if we did, I’d be glad that I got the cheek and didn’t have to kiss some dried up cougar partner on the lips).

–blagh

Dear Diary:

Like Che’s Motorcycle Diaries, I should write the Laid Off Diaries. Maybe I should buy a motorcycle and ride around the US from sea to shining sea and explore this country tis of thee and document everything I see and experience (filtered through the lens of a corporate attorney–you know things will be interesting).  Though to be honest, if I actually bought a motorcycle, I’d probably buy a duchati or a mazda and not an American hog…it would be ironic.

Anyway, I could drive around the midwest (because all good American stories start in the heart of America as does the answer to the question: How the fuck did Bush get elected TWICE??). I could go through the cotton bowl, the corn states, the square states, the bread states…maybe even Texas (they do have great food down there, I hear).

Then of course, the coasts because hearts are broken, men are made, and lives are changed on the coasts (dramatic soundtrack playing in the background).

Maybe I will also start a band of guerrilla warriors protesting neocolonialism and the corrupt capitalist society we live in (don’t I sound like a revolutionary already??). I’ll probably do this after I find a latin lover and start a south american cartel (for those of you following along to the plans I’ve already made).

–The Next American Revolutionary (with an Italian motorcycle)

Dear Diary:

While there are places that offer 50% dine in recession prices in NYC, it’s still too expensive for my new budget. So, step one to saving money, today, I actually made my own chicken tikka masala and saved myself some $$. I don’t cook often so unless I anticipate eating alot of what I’m going to make, it’s almost not worth it to buy all the spices and ingredients. Sometimes thats even more than a meal eating out. But since I live on chicken tikka masala, I felt it was worth it. These past few weeks, I’ve come up with some really cheap meals (spicing up microwave pizza or making “ramen casserole” actually makes a pretty good meal.)

And yes, I joined a gym and picking up running in NYC and doing push ups on the sidewalk while hundreds of bumbling tourists walk around confused is not really an option and since I already paid the membership fee, rethinking my work out strategy is pretty moot at this point (yes, I have 2 more days to change my mind but I probably won’t). Besides, I got a roommate and that frees up quite a bit of money so that I can stretch out my severance a little longer while I wait to find the perfect six figure job on monster.com (yeah, right).

But there is a fatal flaw to my plan. The more I work out, the more I eat, thus costing me more money. Maybe I should rethink my strategy and I should become a fat, lazy fart and conserve all my energy and valuable calories. Then when my health deteriorates, I could get state assistance and maybe one of those motorized wheel chairs or maybe even a helper monkey (though, you have to feed those things). That is, if New York doesn’t go bankrupt like California by the time I apply for aid.

-to be or not to be a couch potato

Dear Diary:

Why do I bitch about having worked at BigLaw? Is it because every day I had to bow and scrape to partners who have had three affairs, two extra-marital love children, or perpetually bad breath, a large gut, and a narrow mind? Well, yes, but that’s only part of it. The other part is that I found my derriere squarely on the pavement after putting up with all that shit like a little  koolaid drinker. It isn’t our fault that we had no work to do. We associates have to suck on the teets of BigLaw and it’s your fault you guys ran out of milk.

But the real thing that pisses me off is that I don’t know how to live like every other young person in New York that isn’t on a 6 figure salary. I got used to those golden handcuffs. I got used to taking taxis. I got used to nice dinners. I got used to buying drinks for myself and for friends.  Now I have to spend 1 hour on the train if I ever want to go all the way downtown or up to Harlem where the unemployment office is.

Surprisingly, as much as I made, I saved very little. I bought into living the life as a “BigLaw” associate of expensive dinners, wool suits, and expensive habits, even though the truth, that no BigLaw associate in NYC wants to admit, is that the BigLaw associate salary really doesn’t stretch THAT much in NYC when you buy into putting up appearances as a successful and sexy BigLaw associate (even though we were a bunch of socially retarded egomanical suckers with six figures worth of debt).  The lie of being a powerful, admirable BigLaw associate was all we had to make ourselves feel better in the quiet of the night before dawn breaks about our lives of sucking up to assholes 60 hours a week while acting like we liked it and being treated like a peon.

If we didn’t get paid the outrageous six figures salary, very very few of us would have stuck around. Half of those people who would stick around would consist of assholes who enjoyed working with assholes so they could become partner assholes and throw their weight around (these were the same people who burned ants under a magnifying glass) and the other half would consist of meek, kool-aid drinking people who can’t think for themselves that can only understand orders that are barked at them and who can’t embark on a different path.

The rest of us would have done something meaningful with our lives–admit it.

Yes, those handcuffs were golden, but they also gave us the clap and I still haven’t decided if they were worth it.

–on a “budget”