I hated law school. In fact the more I think back on it the more I disliked it.
The objective ranking of subjective talent, the endless lectures about boring minutiae, the obsession with citation. I hated it all.
One thing I didn't really hate, however, were my classmates. Sure, lots of them were boring, pompous nerds but, realistically, so am I. So, if I ever disliked them I was only displeased with their features that I actually saw in myself. Most law students are actually surprisingly thoughtful and well spoken people compared to the general public.
But there was one guy who I did truly hate. Let's call him "Tim".
Tim was a short little wiener with a squeaky voice who, in my darkest law school days, I could point to and think, 'at least I'm not him.'
Tim was always happy to be in class. Never volunteering but always prepared when called upon. He never carried the scowl of being flustered or the empty look of boredom that most law students do.
In other words, he annoyed the hell out of me.
Then one day, he and I got to talking about our spring breaks. I always go somewhere really cool for spring break and was ready to do some well deserved bragging. Tim listened politely and then told me he was going to umpire some tennis tournament in Florida that spring break. He also mentioned Maria Sharapova was competing and he looked forward to calling her match.
"Well, try not to pop a boner on the court," I said, trying to minimize his accomplishment while I gritted my teeth in jealousy.
Another day in class some other student was thanking Tim for stitching up a wound. Tim shrugged it off and said, "It was easy. I get kids with open wounds every night."
Turns out, Tim was also a medical student who worked in the emergency room each night while I was at home complaining about 30 pages of reading.
He disgusted me.
A few months later one of the class' sweet, pretty and overtly Christian girls (there's always one) commented to Tim that she had seen him at church the previous Sunday. Tim smiled and said, "Yeah, most people don't see me there because I'm usually in back playing the organ each Sunday."
I wanted to throw Tim off a cliff.
Tim, if you're out there fulfilling your next accomplishment with ease and modesty, bypassing once again the angst and self-doubt the rest of us are cursed with, I want you to remember one thing: I'm taller than you and always will be.
