So, things might be looking up. I had two interviews this week. Both of which felt pretty good. I feel about 75-25 about the first one, but unfortunately the firm does mostly complex civil litigation and class actions, which isn't really my thing. But they do some securities fraud stuff, and they are doing it more and more often - nothing dealing with the initial public offering, but mostly 10b-5 kinda stuf - which I find interesting (widows and orphans, and what have you). They are a very small firm - 5 lawyers, 4 partners. I met with two of the partners and they were pretty young, and seemed hard working, smart, and cool. They do not practice in NY, and they very much liked the fact that I will be admitted to said state. They intimated that there would be some travel involved in the job; I do like that aspect very much.
The second job is pretty much my dream gig. It is with a small immigration department in a very large firm, with infinite financial and human resources. I nailed the interview. The guy's wife went to medical school at my university, and his first couple of legal jobs were in the same city. He's knows one of my professors and thinks highly of her. He's used my law library and thought a lot of it. In general, he thinks that my law school is a very good, and under-rated program. I said all the right things; I commented on some articles he had written. He does mostly business immigration, with a focus on national interest waivers, and export controls - all very interesting and highly subjective stuff. My interest lies mostly in removal defense and federal appeals, which he LOVED because the firm doesn't do that stuff all that much because they are so busy with the business side and some of the family side of immigration practice. Thing is, he USED to do that stuff before he became a partner in a large firm, and I could kind of tell he had a yearning for "the old days," like maybe he could re-live those days by attracting that kind of business and teaching me everything he knows about it - which would be a dream come true for me. Then we talked about movies - A LOT, which of course is fabulous because, well, I used to be in the business. But, of course, there is the other shoe. The senior partner is more into hiring laterally, because lateral hires have more experience, naturally. BUT, he is going to lobby for me. I think I have a 50-50 shot.
In other news, I was pulled over the other day on the interstate. For speeding? No. Because the officer thought that I didn't have a front plate. Well, I DO have a front plate, but the thingy that holds it on to the bumper broke, and I have placed it in my front windshield due to laziness. Oh, my drivers' side window no longer sees fit to roll down, so I had to hand the officer my information out the back window. In any event, another officer then showed up. He announced to me that he was a member of the state K9 unit, and that he spends his days running drug interdictions. He asked me if he could search my car. I responded politely, "yes, sir. I'm sorry, but I can not consent to that." He then said that in that case he would bring the dog out and have it sniff around my car for narcotics. He asked me if I had any narcotics in the car. "No, sir," said I. He then asked if there have EVER been any narcotics in the car. *Pause* "No, sir." Ok, then. He then asked me to turn of my car. I did so. Next he tells me that whatever I do, I should not exit my car, as the dog would take that as aggression. So, the mutt sniffs around and of course finds fuck all. He thanked me and told me to have a good afternoon. I said the same, and then proceeded to drive home.
Upon my return to my humble abode, I notice that my downstairs neighbor's door was cracked right the fuck in half, with a cop looking around. I asked him what the hell happened, and he told me to go look at MY door. I think *MY CATS*, and run up stairs only to find that my dead-bolt had been busted and my door cracked apart, probably by a crowbar. It was slightly ajar. I open my door to see my cats sitting there. That was a relief. I enter my place and walk around; nothing seemed out of place. My lap top was with me, by the way. Hmm, I guess I got off lightly, thinks I:
Stereo - check.
Office crap (speakers, printer, external hard drive) - check.
Television and DVD player - check.
DVDs, CDs, tools, etc. - check, check, check.
So, I shrug and walk into my kitchen to empty my change into my HUGE change jars. I have one for quarters and one for not quarters. To my shock, my fucking CHANGE JARS WERE BOTH GONE. I took pride in my quarter jar, as there was upwards of $70 in there. "Fuck, me!" I proclaim, and walk into my bedroom, which had been totally ransacked: bed turned over, drawers tossed about, lamp knocked over, etc. There was nothing in there for the crack-whores to find anyway. Well, except for my crack. But they must have missed it.
The sons of bitches stole my mother-fucking quarters!
The second job is pretty much my dream gig. It is with a small immigration department in a very large firm, with infinite financial and human resources. I nailed the interview. The guy's wife went to medical school at my university, and his first couple of legal jobs were in the same city. He's knows one of my professors and thinks highly of her. He's used my law library and thought a lot of it. In general, he thinks that my law school is a very good, and under-rated program. I said all the right things; I commented on some articles he had written. He does mostly business immigration, with a focus on national interest waivers, and export controls - all very interesting and highly subjective stuff. My interest lies mostly in removal defense and federal appeals, which he LOVED because the firm doesn't do that stuff all that much because they are so busy with the business side and some of the family side of immigration practice. Thing is, he USED to do that stuff before he became a partner in a large firm, and I could kind of tell he had a yearning for "the old days," like maybe he could re-live those days by attracting that kind of business and teaching me everything he knows about it - which would be a dream come true for me. Then we talked about movies - A LOT, which of course is fabulous because, well, I used to be in the business. But, of course, there is the other shoe. The senior partner is more into hiring laterally, because lateral hires have more experience, naturally. BUT, he is going to lobby for me. I think I have a 50-50 shot.
In other news, I was pulled over the other day on the interstate. For speeding? No. Because the officer thought that I didn't have a front plate. Well, I DO have a front plate, but the thingy that holds it on to the bumper broke, and I have placed it in my front windshield due to laziness. Oh, my drivers' side window no longer sees fit to roll down, so I had to hand the officer my information out the back window. In any event, another officer then showed up. He announced to me that he was a member of the state K9 unit, and that he spends his days running drug interdictions. He asked me if he could search my car. I responded politely, "yes, sir. I'm sorry, but I can not consent to that." He then said that in that case he would bring the dog out and have it sniff around my car for narcotics. He asked me if I had any narcotics in the car. "No, sir," said I. He then asked if there have EVER been any narcotics in the car. *Pause* "No, sir." Ok, then. He then asked me to turn of my car. I did so. Next he tells me that whatever I do, I should not exit my car, as the dog would take that as aggression. So, the mutt sniffs around and of course finds fuck all. He thanked me and told me to have a good afternoon. I said the same, and then proceeded to drive home.
Upon my return to my humble abode, I notice that my downstairs neighbor's door was cracked right the fuck in half, with a cop looking around. I asked him what the hell happened, and he told me to go look at MY door. I think *MY CATS*, and run up stairs only to find that my dead-bolt had been busted and my door cracked apart, probably by a crowbar. It was slightly ajar. I open my door to see my cats sitting there. That was a relief. I enter my place and walk around; nothing seemed out of place. My lap top was with me, by the way. Hmm, I guess I got off lightly, thinks I:
Stereo - check.
Office crap (speakers, printer, external hard drive) - check.
Television and DVD player - check.
DVDs, CDs, tools, etc. - check, check, check.
So, I shrug and walk into my kitchen to empty my change into my HUGE change jars. I have one for quarters and one for not quarters. To my shock, my fucking CHANGE JARS WERE BOTH GONE. I took pride in my quarter jar, as there was upwards of $70 in there. "Fuck, me!" I proclaim, and walk into my bedroom, which had been totally ransacked: bed turned over, drawers tossed about, lamp knocked over, etc. There was nothing in there for the crack-whores to find anyway. Well, except for my crack. But they must have missed it.
The sons of bitches stole my mother-fucking quarters!
beckyjane:
My fingers are crossed for you, gorgeous.
junnie:
Kisses love. I'm proud of you!