Fenno slicked back his hair and adjusted his tie, then glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
Damn, he looked good.
After several weeks of fervent preparation (or at least preparations as fervent as the average 3L could work up the energy to be), Fenno was ready for OCI.It was, of course, unfortunate that he had had to do OCI all over again as a 3L. (Guess there was a limit on the amount of Cristal a summer associate could order after all.) But Fenno was determined to make the best of it.
Of course, Mark Weber had been a tad, how do you say, discouraging when he had glanced at Fenno’s resume, and muttered something about Stroock.
On reflection, Fenno had realized that his resume was lacking that certain something – that je ne sais quois that could only be provided by spending some quality time with a bluebook, some printouts, and some print copies of the U.S.C. that Fenno personally thought would be the first thing lined up against a wall and burned for fuel after the Gotterdammerung.
It was a bit embarrassing to be the only 3L subciting with CRCL, particularly after he learned that a number of his 1L section mates now held the positions of Managing Editor, Assistant Managing Editor, Assistant Articles Editor, and Sub-Assistant Editor in Charge of Managing Articles.
“Damn it, Fenno,” one of them barked, a bizarrely dictatorial glint in her eyes. “You need to put the “available at” notation before the “on-file with” notation. The E-Board had a six hour meeting about that last night and we do not appreciate your editorial pretensions.”
Fenno shrugged and switched the notations. He had spent six hours last night chilling in the Grope and clearing the Full House reruns from the dorm TiVo, and it had been glorious. He was willing to defer to her expertise.
Besides, when it was all over, he was able to add an “editor” line to his resume activities section. Since he had long had HL Central listed there as well (he figured scrounging drink tickets from the floor of the Kong at Bar Reviews constituted a valuable service to the organization), it was looking a little less barren.
Resume ready and snazzy suit purchased, Fenno turned his thoughts toward bids. Unfortunately, between the fact that a lot of firms didn’t want 3Ls and the fact that there were a lot of cities he was no longer welcome in, his choices were somewhat limited. Still, in the end, he cast a wide net and ended up with a good 25 interviews to try his hand at. And with 15 different answers to the question of “Why aren’t you going back to your 2L firm, again?” something was bound to stick.
So when Fenno examined his slick reflection in the mirror, he wasn’t particularly worried. When he checked his printout schedule of the first week, however, he realized that, in his frenzy to not be left explaining to his parents why, while the fact that the school’s statistics said there was a 100% employment rate, he did not actually have a job, he had signed up not only for the lucrative private law firms but for the handful of OPIA-sponsored employers, as well.
And apparently those OPIA-sponsored employers had been hard up for students, because he had an interview with every, single one.
* * *
Two weeks later, Fenno was a bit baffled. His law firm interviews had been going swimmingly, save a few where the interviewer had clearly heard about the Cristal incident via legal gossip blog (and, actually, even a few of those had been impressed), but his public interest interviews were going even better. So far, he had offers with the Nature Conservancy, the New York PD’s office, and several public interest firms that did everything from labor law to energy regulation. Even the CIA had expressed interest, although the interviewer had then made an unsettling comment about a polygraph and a drug test. Fenno chose to believe he was joking.
All the same, the conclusion was inescapable. Fenno was a public interest God.
So it was with a certain amount of confidence that he strolled into his JAG interview on the last day of OCI – enough confidence, in fact, that he didn’t even bother to finish the succulent lavender cupcake he had picked up in the Hark on the way to the interview.
“CRCL, huh?” the interviewer, a rather intimidatingly large man drawled as he sat down. “We’ve seen a lot of that today. Let me guess; you decided to leave Advocates off the resume? Thought it would be a tip-off, eh?”
Fenno shrugged noncommittally; Advocates . . . Advocates. Those were the people with the black hoods, right? But were they pro- or anti-torture? He tried to remember what that Record headline he had accidentally glimpsed while transferring the overflowing contents of his Hark box to the garbage can.He took a guess; “I do have a black hood or two in my closet,” he said in a jovial tone that had served him so well in OCI to date.
He saw a vein on his interviewer’s face bulge, and the next thing he knew he was lying on the floor and the room was spinning around him.
“You know, our students will express their views,” Dean Kaufman was explaining politely to the interviewer, “We really do have a strict no-punching interview at HLS. I’m afraid the Dean will have to send a conciliatory e-mail to the student body about this at the commencement of next interview season.”Fenno closed his eyes. The public sector was simply not worth the trouble.
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