We Toasted With Luksusowa

I am back in Our Fair City two days earlier than expected. This is very good news-- they offered me the job after only one day!

I got in on Sunday evening after an uneventful drive. A VERY uneventful drive: there is a whole lot of nothing between Here and There. I pulled up in front of the hotel and was immediately met by Oscar Madison, who is the senior partner at the firm. I had spoken to him earlier that afternoon and he told me that he wanted me to meet him at 7 pm so that we could go to dinner with one of his clients. This little tidbit sent me into a small tizzy over wardrobe. He said to be "casual"-- god, I HATE that term-- but if he's asking me to meet one of his clients, surely jeans would be inappropriate. And I needed to be comfortable for the drive in. I ended up in khakis and a nice Fair Isle sweater with my new cute boots, and it was a good guess.

I checked in and went up to my room to drop off my bags before leaving for dinner. As I stood in front of the door, I realized that I had no idea where my room key was. After several hours in the car, I was a little frazzled with the nervousness and the effort to project an outward calm, but still, how could I lose the key between the lobby and the second floor? I stood in front of the door, thinking "How can I get out of this situation without having to go back down and ask for a new key in front of the man I want to hire me for a job with a lot of reponsibility?". I quickly came to the stomach-sinking realization that there was no such solution. sigh

So after showing the senior partner that I am not to be trusted with a hotel key, we met up in the lobby. And by "we", I mean me, the senior partner, the client, and one of the other attorneys in the firm. The senior partner is getting close to retirement age. The three of us remaining in the party were all in our late 20's/ early 30's and all women. I thought that was pretty funny. Of course, my sense of humor is strange. Anyway, one of them is from the Phillipines and the other is from Argentina, so it was an international evening. We had a nice long conversation, which is to say that we listened to Oscar's war stories and made appropriately appreciative comments. Not that it wasn't interesting-- it was, very much so. But toward the end of the night, he said "You haven't said much, I'm doing all the talking" a couple of times. I just didn't know how to respond to that. First of all, how could I? Second, I'm not stupid. If you think I'm going to start sharing my life story before I get the lay of the land, you're sadly mistaken. Third, what on earth do you want to know? Ask me, I'll tell you. Fourth, I am freaking exhausted from the drive and the emotional rollercoaster, throw me a bone here.

Back at the hotel room, I slept fitfully, terrified that I would somehow manage to oversleep despite the wake up call and bedside alarm clock.

Minutes after I finally sank into a truly deep sleep, the alarm blared in my ear. In those first seconds, I was incredibly confused because it sounded so different from my alarm clock at home and I couldn't place the sound. As I got enough lucidity to grope for the off button, the phone started ringing. What a start to the morning. After a shower and a trip to the breakfast buffet, I took great pains with my appearance, actually blowdrying my hair straight and fussing over whether to wear the tweed skirt or the black pants. And I was ready and waiting when Oscar pulled up in front of the hotel to take me to an immigration hearing with him.

And I do mean I was ready. I had agonized over how to handle the "not saying anything" question and decided that I have every right to keep things close to the vest. After all, this is all about whether or not I want to uproot and come to work for them. I refuse to be intimidated. (Wow, doesn't that sound brave? I'm almost impressed with myself.)

We picked up the client-- a woman from Sierra Leone-- and a paralegal from the firm. The paralegal is a lovely japanese woman, sharp as a tack, but as sweet natured as they come in personality. The two of us were denied admission to the actual hearing at Immigration, so we spent a lovely morning talking about the firm and the work they do and about life in general. She had met Oscar when she was waitressing in the town where Oscar and his wife own a summer home. He liked her so much, he asked her to come to work for him. She did, and she really likes working there. I felt like we really hit it off on a personal level, too. We ended up in this long philosophical discussion about coincidence and chance in life.

Eventually, Oscar and the client came back out. The hearing didn't end with the outcome they'd hoped for, but the good thing was that the request wasn't denied, rather they asked for additional documentation. Then we tried to sneak into the immigration court upstairs, but were quickly booted, as it was a closed asylum hearing. Oh well.

Back to the office where it was time to meet Felix Unger, the Other Partner. You know, the one who doesn't want to hire a summer student. Nothing personal against me, you understand. Now, EVERYONE that I've met thus far has giggled when Felix's name is uttered. I know that he doesn't want to hire me or anyone else, thank you very much. I also know that Oscar, depsite his assurances of two weeks ago, has NOT told him that I am coming. I am, one might say, a great big piece of serendipity. A nervous piece of serendipity.

Oscar concocts this insane cover story and introduces me to Felix as "a journalist here to do a story on the success of our firm". Felix shakes my hand and goes about his work, blissfully unaware for a few moments longer that his lack of enthusiasm for hiring summer associates is about to be sorely tested. Oscar deposits me with the Argentinian lawyer and another paralegal and takes Felix out to lunch.

In the interim, I go around and meet most of the other people in the office (one girl is at work) and get to read a few examples of the work I'll be doing in the main. It's actually not too bad. Basically, I have to organize the documents into a coherent set of evidence and write a memo telling BCIS why the person in question fulfills the requirements for whatever visa. The memos are basically fill-in-the-blank: you plug in the appropriate details and names, cull descriptions of the typically impenetrably esoteric work they do and it's relevance/ importance to allowing them to remain in the US from a personal statement that the client writes to make it clear to BCIS exactly what it is they do. No problemo.

That's inbetween working on all of Oscar's pet projects of course. If we do half of what he has in mind, I will be able to list conference organization and published authorship on my resume by graduation. Oscar is a bit of a visionary. It's kind of cool.

I mean, the man used to work for Big Law and quit because he was digusted by it and never wanted to practice law again. Yet here he is, practicing in his own firm, and he really seems to love what he does. He takes on cases just because they sound like fun or because they tug his heartstrings. I like that. I appreciate that.

After returning from lunch, Oscar handed me a bunch of papers from a file and asked me to draft a response to a request from BCIS, using only what he gave me. This is what he does instead of asking for a writing sample that you might have polished for hours. I started plowing through the papers. And every few minutes, Oscar interrupted to ask me to do this or that or to sit in with this client or meet this person. Two hours later, I was trying to finish the response while listening to a woman from Ethiopia talk about bringing her elderly parents to the US. Finally, the office was almost empty. Only Oscar, Yours Truly, and two paralegals remained. Oscar read my reponse slowly. Then he yelled for one of the paralegals.

"Do we have any booze in the house?"

"Well, actually, yes..."

And so, on the afternoon of the first day, we drank potato vodka out of Dixie Cups (with Disney characters on them!) to celebrate.

I went out with the other paralegal last night. We went to Dupont Circle and ate with the pretty people. It was fun and I really liked her. She seems like someone that I would hang out with. We ordered wine and talked until I was falling asleep on my feet, then I took the Metro back to the hotel. I love the Metro. I love DC.

After the day, I wanted the job more than ever. It seems like such an amazing match. I felt comfortable there and the work looks like a lot of fun. And this morning, I came into the office, expecting to do some more work to prove myself worthy of an offer. I told Oscar that whatever he needed me to do to convince Felix, I would do it. Instead, we shot the breeze for a couple of hours and suddenly I had an offer for summer employment.

No, scratch that. I had been added to the family. And that's exactly what the firm felt like to me. Like any family, it has its quirks and I'm sure that there will be conflicts, but they seem to really like each other. There is a certain ease in the air between them.

I start immediately after exams. I am so excited about this. I want to open a bottle of champagne and celebrate, but everyone is out of town. So, this is my little self-celebration.

I'M GOING TO WORK IN D.C. THIS SUMMER!!!!!

Oh, and P.S. Oscar called me this evening to tell me that the guy who normally administers the writing sample "test" said that my response letter was the best he'd ever read. WOO HOO!!!