Occupy Law Street

October 15
(Thursday)

When I got home from school Thursday, there was a message on my answering machine from Robin. She would try to reach me later. The call was another surprise, and I took it as a good sign, a very good sign. Had she called to make me a job offer at Simoneaux? I couldn’t figure out any other reason. She had spoken with Christian Ressner, I imag­ined. Although Simoneaux had a Recruiting Committee, it was Ressner who really made the hiring decisions. Robin had given him the gist of our conversation: I hadn’t received a letter, I was still looking for work, I half suspected they weren’t doing all they could to help me out. He thought it over and gave her an answer. Robin listened and nodded. After all, my uncle was a big client. Now she was calling to give me the good news and to smooth any rough spots left from our conversation a few days before. All I had to do was push the right button, just a little pressure at the right place at the right time …

I couldn’t wait. I called her office. Her secretary said she was in a meeting and wouldn’t be back until after lunch. I played the message on the answering machine again. Robin spoke fast. She said “bye” at the end in a pleasant way. I could tell she was smiling. She was trying to make up. I listened to the message again.

“This is good,” I told Katie. “The only possible reason Robin could have for calling was to make me an offer.” I couldn’t conceive any other reason for her to call. She would try to reach me later. There was some urgency. There was some sense of reaching out. It was all captured on my answering machine, the message, Robin, all of it. I tried again to reach her before I left for Pollution Control, but she was still out. “No message,” I said. “I’ll try again at four o’clock.”

When I came home, I found a letter from Simoneaux in the mailbox. I set my books on my desk and opened it as I stood in the kitchen:

Dear Kenneth:
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for the good work you did for the firm in our clerkship program this summer.
After some deliberation and discussion with our managing partners and personnel committee members regarding the size and aims of next summer’s program, we have concluded that we must decrease significantly the size of next summer’s program. In that regard we are urged to target those students with a definite expressed intent to practice in New Orleans after grad­uation from law school. In other years the criteria for our decisions would be significantly broader; however, at this time regrettably we are unable to offer you a position in the coming summer program.
I hope that the experience you gained with us this past summer was a positive step in your professional development. We will be happy to furnish recommen­dations regarding your work to potential employers who contact us for references, and we wish you a suc­cessful second year at Urbane.
With kindest regards,
Sincerely yours,
Christian T. Ressner
Chairman, Personnel Committee
He signed the letter “Chris.” What a nicely written letter, I thought. Well-phrased. Logic wrapped in sincerity and sorrow. Here it was, finally. I wasn’t entirely disappointed. The people at the firm knew I was still looking for a job. They had promised recommendations. And they would presumably toe the line that I hadn’t been asked back because I couldn’t give a definite expressed intention to remain in New Orleans. They would know what to say when asked. Better yet, I would know what they would say.

“They must have rushed this one out to the mail to get it here this quickly,” I told Katie. “They must have had a courier hand-deliver it to the post office.”

Katie muttered something that surprised me.

“I wonder what Robin wants,” I said.

I called her. Perhaps there was some mistake.

“You received the letter?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I wanted to talk to you before you got it,” she said. “I wanted to tell you, if I can help in any way, as a reference or in any other way, just let me know.”

“That’s very nice of you,” I said. “Thank you very much.”

Well, I never really expected to be invited back. I just wanted to shake the tree and see if I could get any figs to fall. If I couldn’t get a job now ...

Excerpted from LAW SCHOOL RED INK WHITE COLLAR BLUES
By Kenneth David Westphal
Copyright First Part Press Ltd
All rights reserved
Any use, in whole or in part, without express written consent, is prohibited