See Monica Practice Law

It’s been awhile since I’ve submitted an entry. Bear with me. I’m still new at this blogging thing.

I’ve decided to share what it was like for me to be practicing law and desperately wanting out. I’ll do it in a serial format. I’m hoping it’ll be a source of inspiration for you. Or laughter. Or pity.

Title: See Monica Practice Law

Part I: Monica At The Big Firm

Installment 1: 1st Year Associate, 3 Months and Counting

Late afternoon. I’m in my windowless box of an office pretending to work. The walls are bare. I have a plain brown wood desk facing my door. I have a matching credenza with my computer on the opposite wall. Sitting at my computer, I am developing a permanent cramp in my neck from the stress of not knowing who or what will show up at my door. Interior design and feng shui are not concepts my firm has embraced. But I do have an ergonomically-designed chair, which should probably have given me a clue as to how much time the firm expects you to spend there.

I flinch in surprise at the sound of knuckles rapping on my opened door. Composing my face to look eager, I turn around. It’s a senior partner. He has an assignment for me. I know it’s going to be like one of those fairytales where the hero is supposed to complete three impossible tasks. I am no hero.

Senior partner, let’s call him, Beard Stroker, is looking down at some documents in his hand. He’s not so good with the eye contact. As it turns out, he’s not so good with the assignment explaining either.

It’s a patent litigation case. Beard Stroker gestures me to follow him. He wants to show me the invention at issue in the case. He walks at a fast pace and continues talking non-stop in a low voice about the case. I don’t really know what he’s talking about but I try to jot down every word in the hopes that I can look at my notes later and they’ll magically make sense.

Beard Stroker shows me the invention and explains the technology in six minutes. If pressed to identify the device, I would have to say it was a “doohickey.” As to how it works, I don’t know. Beard Stroker hands me the documents and tells me to “take a crack” at drafting a motion for summary judgment. And then he’s gone.

“What’s a motion for summary judgment?” I ask myself, as panic fills my throat and I try to locate the nearest restroom in the maze of offices.