It was in August of 2010 that I heard about her first..It was rumoured that the carpets in her rooms were 600-knot China silk. They said the cappuccino machine in her pantries dispensed molten gold for free. The very air that hung about her corridors was said to be perfumed with cinnamon picked by Brazilian virgins at full moon..This seductive beauty was also known as Large Firm, and I was in love..My story really began one lazy afternoon in my fourth year in college, when three men walked into campus in a cloud of Hugo Boss. They spoke charmingly of exciting deals, dropped names like pros and in a single movement stripped us painlessly of our own dreams, and sold us another. There was not a single person who walked out of that room on that day without seven figures in his eyes..That was the beginning of my fight to be one with Large Firm..The first night after the presentation, I started writing an email to the partner. I was more psyched than I would like to admit. I wrote three words – “Dear Mr. D—“ – and quickly struck them out. He may have been my new idol, but he obviously wasn’t my ‘dear’ anything. Further, ‘Mr’ seemed inadequate. He looked like someone whose name was likely to have a prefix although I could not imagine what that prefix could possibly be. Sir? Doctor? Reverend? Marquis?.I decided instead to deal with the end of the letter first, and speedily sank into the predictable quicksand between ‘Regards’ and ‘Warm Regards’. Was ‘Regards’ too cold and distant? Was ‘Warm Regards’ too creepy and overfamiliar? Perhaps I should be his, ‘sincerely’. I briefly considered ‘obediently’ like I had been taught in school, but even my comatose self-respect reared its head, snarling, against that option..For the life of me, I could not make a choice..In a move that you absolutely did not see coming, I proceeded to google my query. An American website advised striking ‘the middle note between abject servility and admirable self-confidence’. I am almost certain they were being satirical, but that struck me as being the most helpful guideline on writing cover letters I had ever read..I decided to go with ‘Regards’. I wrote it down. I was immediately filled with a sense of warm accomplishment, for only the greeting and body of the letter remained. Those were quickly dispensed with and with my heart in my mouth, I sent my baby on its way..***.“Arey your letter and all doesn’t matter, man, it’s all about jugaad.” the best friend said..I stared at him, not comprehending. It was a sunny afternoon, but I was oblivious..“Cover letter and all is [redacted], you have to make sure a ‘friendly’ person sees your CV” he added helpfully, as I bled, screaming, all over the classroom floor. In my mind..I was stricken – I had no jugaad – but was I defeated? Never! I logged into Facebook and found one senior who had not been as cruel as everyone else during the ‘introduction’ phase of my first year in college. Back then my desperate mind had interpreted this gesture as one of friendship and I was not about to second-guess my judgment in this moment of crisis. He had managed to land a seat in the luxurious lap of my beloved firm, and I was about to make him my jugaad. I opened his profile and shamelessly wished him a belated Happy Republic Day. When he replied, no doubt out of politeness, I quickly initiated a short correspondence wherein I made him forcefully aware of my great passion and brainpower and reminded him of his own reputation for generosity. The exchange culminated in his agreeing, somewhat reluctantly, to ‘keep a look out’ for my CV..Me – 1, World – 0..My next assault was mounted on the unsuspecting HR. Experienced though she was in the art being completely useless, in the hoary tradition of all HR personnel everywhere, she was not prepared for me. I flooded her inbox with emails, called her with clockwork regularity and assaulted her with seasonal greetings of every provenance until she admitted she had received my CV and would talk to Reluctant Senior about it..So began the days of suspense. I waited patiently, then less patiently. With every day that went by with an empty inbox and every acceptance that came in for anyone but me, I felt my dream growing ever more unreachable. I grew old and grey just waiting. Over that week I also noticed as though for the first time, all the boys and girls who had chosen to take up litigation in my batch. They were strangely carefree, unaffected as they were by the ridiculously exhausting placement process; I was slowly beginning to develop a jealous admiration. Soon later, dully convinced Last Firm and I were done, I prepared to end my passionate one-sided affair with her and move in with Litigation. I read Fali Nariman’s autobiography and drummed up a feeling of inspiration. I reminded myself that I had always looked good in black..And then one night, as I flipped morosely through 9gag.com and contemplated my various sorrows to the tune of Thom Yorke’s yowling, I received an email..‘Please note that you have been offered an internship’ it said. O, frabjous day! I wrote in my acceptance and put Fali Nariman on the back shelf..I was back in the game..***.At this moment, I am halfway through my third internship and fourth month with Large Firm which eventually offered me a job. It has been both everything and nothing like I thought it would be..Not a day goes by that I leave work earlier than midnight. Not a day goes by that I am not challenged into pushing myself beyond all reasonable wisdom. Not a day goes by that I don’t fall asleep aching, exhausted but completely fulfilled..Not a day goes by that a newspaper fails to inform me that I represent the ’failure’ of ‘the law school experiment’. Not a week goes by that a columnist doesn’t refer to my job as a desk job. Not a column goes by that I don’t wonder what happened to the sanctity of choice..Not a day goes by that I don’t shut my browser window, snap my opal cufflinks in place, finish my French-pressed coffee and get right back to work in my airconditioned office..Opinions are for those with the leisure to articulate them – I have a job to do; a job I love..Sometimes it is just as simple as that. I am waiting for law-school discourse to catch up.
It was in August of 2010 that I heard about her first..It was rumoured that the carpets in her rooms were 600-knot China silk. They said the cappuccino machine in her pantries dispensed molten gold for free. The very air that hung about her corridors was said to be perfumed with cinnamon picked by Brazilian virgins at full moon..This seductive beauty was also known as Large Firm, and I was in love..My story really began one lazy afternoon in my fourth year in college, when three men walked into campus in a cloud of Hugo Boss. They spoke charmingly of exciting deals, dropped names like pros and in a single movement stripped us painlessly of our own dreams, and sold us another. There was not a single person who walked out of that room on that day without seven figures in his eyes..That was the beginning of my fight to be one with Large Firm..The first night after the presentation, I started writing an email to the partner. I was more psyched than I would like to admit. I wrote three words – “Dear Mr. D—“ – and quickly struck them out. He may have been my new idol, but he obviously wasn’t my ‘dear’ anything. Further, ‘Mr’ seemed inadequate. He looked like someone whose name was likely to have a prefix although I could not imagine what that prefix could possibly be. Sir? Doctor? Reverend? Marquis?.I decided instead to deal with the end of the letter first, and speedily sank into the predictable quicksand between ‘Regards’ and ‘Warm Regards’. Was ‘Regards’ too cold and distant? Was ‘Warm Regards’ too creepy and overfamiliar? Perhaps I should be his, ‘sincerely’. I briefly considered ‘obediently’ like I had been taught in school, but even my comatose self-respect reared its head, snarling, against that option..For the life of me, I could not make a choice..In a move that you absolutely did not see coming, I proceeded to google my query. An American website advised striking ‘the middle note between abject servility and admirable self-confidence’. I am almost certain they were being satirical, but that struck me as being the most helpful guideline on writing cover letters I had ever read..I decided to go with ‘Regards’. I wrote it down. I was immediately filled with a sense of warm accomplishment, for only the greeting and body of the letter remained. Those were quickly dispensed with and with my heart in my mouth, I sent my baby on its way..***.“Arey your letter and all doesn’t matter, man, it’s all about jugaad.” the best friend said..I stared at him, not comprehending. It was a sunny afternoon, but I was oblivious..“Cover letter and all is [redacted], you have to make sure a ‘friendly’ person sees your CV” he added helpfully, as I bled, screaming, all over the classroom floor. In my mind..I was stricken – I had no jugaad – but was I defeated? Never! I logged into Facebook and found one senior who had not been as cruel as everyone else during the ‘introduction’ phase of my first year in college. Back then my desperate mind had interpreted this gesture as one of friendship and I was not about to second-guess my judgment in this moment of crisis. He had managed to land a seat in the luxurious lap of my beloved firm, and I was about to make him my jugaad. I opened his profile and shamelessly wished him a belated Happy Republic Day. When he replied, no doubt out of politeness, I quickly initiated a short correspondence wherein I made him forcefully aware of my great passion and brainpower and reminded him of his own reputation for generosity. The exchange culminated in his agreeing, somewhat reluctantly, to ‘keep a look out’ for my CV..Me – 1, World – 0..My next assault was mounted on the unsuspecting HR. Experienced though she was in the art being completely useless, in the hoary tradition of all HR personnel everywhere, she was not prepared for me. I flooded her inbox with emails, called her with clockwork regularity and assaulted her with seasonal greetings of every provenance until she admitted she had received my CV and would talk to Reluctant Senior about it..So began the days of suspense. I waited patiently, then less patiently. With every day that went by with an empty inbox and every acceptance that came in for anyone but me, I felt my dream growing ever more unreachable. I grew old and grey just waiting. Over that week I also noticed as though for the first time, all the boys and girls who had chosen to take up litigation in my batch. They were strangely carefree, unaffected as they were by the ridiculously exhausting placement process; I was slowly beginning to develop a jealous admiration. Soon later, dully convinced Last Firm and I were done, I prepared to end my passionate one-sided affair with her and move in with Litigation. I read Fali Nariman’s autobiography and drummed up a feeling of inspiration. I reminded myself that I had always looked good in black..And then one night, as I flipped morosely through 9gag.com and contemplated my various sorrows to the tune of Thom Yorke’s yowling, I received an email..‘Please note that you have been offered an internship’ it said. O, frabjous day! I wrote in my acceptance and put Fali Nariman on the back shelf..I was back in the game..***.At this moment, I am halfway through my third internship and fourth month with Large Firm which eventually offered me a job. It has been both everything and nothing like I thought it would be..Not a day goes by that I leave work earlier than midnight. Not a day goes by that I am not challenged into pushing myself beyond all reasonable wisdom. Not a day goes by that I don’t fall asleep aching, exhausted but completely fulfilled..Not a day goes by that a newspaper fails to inform me that I represent the ’failure’ of ‘the law school experiment’. Not a week goes by that a columnist doesn’t refer to my job as a desk job. Not a column goes by that I don’t wonder what happened to the sanctity of choice..Not a day goes by that I don’t shut my browser window, snap my opal cufflinks in place, finish my French-pressed coffee and get right back to work in my airconditioned office..Opinions are for those with the leisure to articulate them – I have a job to do; a job I love..Sometimes it is just as simple as that. I am waiting for law-school discourse to catch up.
