The Laid Off Diary: Dear Diary…this sucks.

Dear Diary:

Since being laid off, I’ve of course become more money conscious. Before, I would just grab the name brand instead of wasting the extra 3.8 second comparing the brand name’s price with the generic’s price and determining whether the generic’s quality was good enough.

Now, I’m checking prices and comparing the generic with the brand name and, most likely that not, buying generics to save a couple of extra bucks.

But GOD, I swear, the generic is just really not as good. Take cotton balls for example. It’s a fluff of freaking cotton–how much worse can the generic be? Well, apparently, alot worse. I had some cotton balls that completely fell apart and white whispies were everywhere.

I’m also not convinced that generic drugs are the same as name brands. I know, I know, the doctors say they’re the same but I just don’t have as much fun on Duane Reade’s blue cold syrup or “Nycare” as I do when taking shots of Nyquil. And Dayquil is the closest thing that actually tastes like the color neon orange and is the only thing that can make you feel like a glowing orange orb (on crack).

And from what I hear from my overstressed and overly anxious colleagues, alprazolam just doesn’t get you there like Xanax.

–still not convinced

Dear Diary:

Things just seem to get bleaker and here are new signs that we haven’t hit bottom or things that likely signify that associates are still going to get laid off and just some random fun facts that are happening in our legal world:

* Mayer Brown in Texas was just sued for $10 million over negligence claim.

* Federal Judge Rocks the Puns Against Bon Jovi

* MoFo pushes back start date and pushes back announcing starting salaries–boo!

Dear Diary:

I’m reposting this column from Stuff BigLaw Associates Like because after getting calls from former colleagues still in BigLaw and from laid off colleagues and friends, it seems like a lot of us need to be reminded about not settling on our careers:

BigLaw Associates like to acquiese. We like to settle. We’re like those couples that you see that live together and are boring and bored of each other. They’ve been with each other for a year or two, they might have moved in with each other to save on rent, and are now in a cycle. They both deep down inside know that there is no spark, that the other isn’t who they want to spend the rest of their lives with but there is free sex, free somewhat regular sex, and someone to watch television with and eat microwave dinner or chinese take out with. There’s no reason to break up, pack up all your shit, shell out money on movers, deposits, and first and last month’s rent. Fuck, you might even marry this person. And have a fat baby. And spend your Saturday’s at Bed Bath & Beyond and Home Depot (if either are still around after this recession). You might then day dream about that hot chick in the coffee shop while you are stuffing your face with 1000 calorie doughnuts. You might day dream about having married a rich man who would whisk you away to some random ass tropical island. and through it all, you spent the better part of your time cutting coupons you never used or could find when you just happened to need to buy that item. But then you die of a series of small heart attacks. Not one is significant so not even your death will be tragic or memorable.

However, if the other person in the relationship cheats on you. Well, that’s the catalyst to action. You break up, maybe throw a few things, craddle your ego, shit talk the other person to all your friends, maybe do some libel as well on a blog (like this one–feel free to comment here!), and move your shit out. You’re lonely for six months, you’re edgy because you haven’t had sex in a while, and maybe you’ve gained a bit of weight and more hair than you should have on places that’s not your head. But then eventually, let’s hope, you pick yourself up, realize the other person was a boring sack of shit, and that you’re glad you’re out. Maybe you’ve found someone else (probably not if you’re a lawyer because you’re probably unattractive and short) that makes you more happy than you ever thought possible.

And such is the way with BigLaw. You are a midlevel bored out of your mind but you’ve gotta be crazy to leave a job that pays six figures when you don’t even know what else you would do with your life. You’ve been a monkey for so long, cranking out sheets of paper with little black words on them, meticulously measuring the margins of your pleadings, having no sex life or a really bad one, getting fat and miserable that you don’t even know what will make you happy. You’ve gotta be crazy to leave a cushy job when the average family of three makes $45,000 and you started at $160,000. But before you know it, you’re a seventh or eighth year. You’re fat. You’ve started guffawing because that’s what all the old white men do around you. You no longer think it is unethical to pad hours. You no longer think it is unethical to steal supplies even though you make a bizillion bucks. If you’re a minority, you’re confused as to why you aren’t the same color as all the white people because you feel white inside. But then you get fired for not making partner and you wonder where your youth went and your individuality and identity. And then you too, die of a series of small heart attacks on a pile of paper at 4pm on a Tuesday afternoon.

Or you make partner and find yourself laid off or de-equitized after your second divorce resulting from the fact that you are always at work or at networking events and never at home with your wife/husband and kids/dogs/pet gold fish. Or you find yourself close to retirement after screwing over countless associates and married to your homely looking third wife (when your second wife left you for your brother who “followed his dreams” and actually has time for her) instead of a trophy wife in hopes that she will stick around to wipe the drool from your mouth after you suffer a heart attack or stroke from being an overweight stressed out fat bastard from neglecting your health for the sake of your “career”. Good job. Pat yourself on the back. That was a life well lived.

However, if the other person in the relationship cheats on you, and in this case, it would be BigLaw laying your ass off, that is the catalyst to action. You are forced to find something that actually, *gasp* makes you happy! you are allowed to take a year off and travel and learn portuguese because brazilian women are hot. Even if you go back to law after that year, it’s like a year you were able to relax and be happy. Yes, there are bills to pay but nobody but people who are still employed are paying their bills and guess what? you’re not employed! fuck your credit score. You and Madoff’s mom have shitty credit scores. Yeah, it will suck not having money but you’ve got that severance package and it’s time to re-establish your love with rice-a-roni and ramen and msg. Go ahead, throw things, cradle your hurt ego, and talk shit about your law firm on a blog (like this one–feel free to comment here!). But you’ll soon realize that it might have been the best thing for you. Not all of us were meant to be monkeys or tools. Not all of us, just because we’re smart and did well in law school, are meant to ignore parts of ourselves and waste our talent checking for commas and getting yelled at by short men with large heads. Hopefully soon you will find something else that will make you more happy than you ever thought possible.

Until then, screw the man!

Dear Diary:

Never has this phrase actually meant something more than it does now. Sure, we went to lunch with partners but we were already shackled to The Firm that they didn’t really care to get to know us (especially with the high turnover rate and I can only imagine that no one goes to lunch to get to know the associates in light of the layoff monsoon that keeps coming in waves), couldn’t really tell us apart, and because lawyers are socially awkward in general (we might have developed some coping mechanisms such as one-liners to feign interest, or a fall back topic or fall back comments to fill in the awkward silence or to help us overcome our shyness or our general lack of being able to relate to other human beings). But now that I’m networking with business people, they love lunch. They love talking about themselves and sometimes are also genuinely interested in other people too (unlike partners who are really just interested in themselves and money, which actually isn’t that much compared to their business counterparts).

But not only do business people love lunch, they love to talk. They love to have conversations and talk about ideas and projects and deals (only insofar as deals encompass the ideas that came to fruition) and most of them seem very irresistibly interested and excited about what they do. Perhaps it’s only because I’m talking to CEOs or managing directors and not little peons, which is why the majority of people I have lunch with really seem to enjoy what they like. But the saddest thing as a law student that I heard when I was a summer associate was asking a partner why they specialized in what they did and the most common answer was that they fell into it and 30 years later, they are still doing it.

At associate development lunches at the firm, we were told to find a niche practice which most of the time resulted from happening upon an assignment that required us to do about 30 hours of mind numbing research on a boring or obscure part of the law and then being the “go to” person every time that issue came up. We were actually encouraged to seek out mind-numbing work and “fall” into that niche practice instead of CHOOSING a practice area or niche that made us tick.

Not very encouraging.

Shouldn’t we first find out what makes us tick and then seek out a position or build one around what we are interested in? Are lawyers that afraid to go after what they want that they are willing to hang their hat on any random ass nail they happen to find sticking out of a wall and 30 years later, still hang on that same damn rusty nail?

I realize that lawyers have been categorized as “risk adverse” but this is just plain fear.

–Hammering in my own nail instead of trying to stumble upon an empty one