There's nothing cuter than a 9 year old running for class president. On the flip side, there's nothing more pathetic than a college student running for a student office.
Mike and I were in a fraternity with one of those guys. His name was Ryan and he was super peppy with a saccharine yet sad quality. Needless to say, his personality did not blend well with Mike's and my cynical and irony-driven personalities.
Anyway, Ryan was combing the many floors of the fraternity house asking people if they would help him put up campaign posters for his latest run. Each of his perky requests was denied as he went from room to room. Finally, when he got to Mike and me, he gave a half-hearted appeal for help.
In a fit of atypical pity I said, "Sure, we'd love to."
"Really?", asked Ryan.
"Really", said Mike, and then in a fit of typical snarkiness said, "But, we'll just write slogans for you in chalk on the sidewalks of campus."
Mike and I then killed an hour walking across campus writing demographic-specific slogans.
In front of the Women's Studies building: "Our bodies, Ourselves! Vote for Ryan"
In front of the History department: "54' 40'' or Fight! Vote for Ryan."
In front of the Communication building: "I believe you have a real major! Vote for Ryan."
In front of the ATM: "Cash! Money! Hoes! Vote for Ryan."
Not surprisingly, Ryan lost that election. Don't worry about him, though. He's now a marketing manger for the Texas Roadhouse restaurant chain. So, the next time you're ordering the advertised "Southwestern Pizza Rolls" on "Monday's Margarita Madness" night, thank us, his motley crew of a campaign team, for keeping him out of the jaws of politics and getting him into his true calling: Helping the Red States get even fatter.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Peanuts
When you're very little (like 5) you watch Peanuts (Charlie Brown) cartoons and it's a little bewildering. There are lots of kids who are all virtually identical except for having different haircuts and t-shirts. They all talk as though they're adults to the point where there is no need for adults in the cartoon. So, the main story is just not accessible to little kids.
Luckily, there's Snoopy. He doesn't say anything, he just does what he feels. When things get dull, he escapes into a world of fantasy (Red Baron, Joe Cool). Little kids can relate to the bewildered, fantasy-addled Snoopy. In fact, they love him. You've never seen a plush Charlie Brown but you could choke the grand canyon with soft cute Snoopy dolls.
We spend years watching Snoopy's hijinks while the Peanuts characters are just background noise. But sooner or later, you start thinking about what Charlie Brown is really all about, the sheer sad disappointment of life. Unrequited love, perpetual failure, cruel statements, competing circles of friends are all the substantive material for this "children's" show. Charlie Brown and the gang become a cartoon boot camp for kids about to enter the real world or junior high (whichever comes first).
I have to extend a hearty thanks to Charles Schultz for this shell game that traded the whimsical for the existential. It allowed me, when life dealt me it's first cruel blows that my parents couldn't fix, to find the right words: "Good Grief!"
Luckily, there's Snoopy. He doesn't say anything, he just does what he feels. When things get dull, he escapes into a world of fantasy (Red Baron, Joe Cool). Little kids can relate to the bewildered, fantasy-addled Snoopy. In fact, they love him. You've never seen a plush Charlie Brown but you could choke the grand canyon with soft cute Snoopy dolls.
We spend years watching Snoopy's hijinks while the Peanuts characters are just background noise. But sooner or later, you start thinking about what Charlie Brown is really all about, the sheer sad disappointment of life. Unrequited love, perpetual failure, cruel statements, competing circles of friends are all the substantive material for this "children's" show. Charlie Brown and the gang become a cartoon boot camp for kids about to enter the real world or junior high (whichever comes first).
I have to extend a hearty thanks to Charles Schultz for this shell game that traded the whimsical for the existential. It allowed me, when life dealt me it's first cruel blows that my parents couldn't fix, to find the right words: "Good Grief!"
Common Sense Is Even Less Common in Law School
I've written a lot about how I refuse to abandon my common sense for Socratic law school thinking. Here's another example:
Every other day, a mass email is sent out by one of my classmates informing everyone that one of the cars in the parking lot has it's lights on. The owner, presumably, scrambles outside to save his or her battery while the hundreds of us that this doesn't effect just delete the email.
Just the other day, I personally noticed that one of the cars in the law school parking lot had it's lights on. Did I send out the typical mass email like everyone else does, confident that providing notice is effective to saving a battery? No, I did not. I walked up to the car like I owned it, opened the front door, leaned inside, and turned the headlights off.
Has this option never occurred to anyone? It's pretty simple, you'd think all the LSAT acers at my school would have figured it out. Sure there's some locked doors out there, but not that many.
Here's what I think happens
Law Student: Maybe I should turn this guy's lights off for him. Would that be criminal trespass? Civil trespass? What if he has a spring-loaded gun like in Katko v. Briney? Is this car an attractive nuisance? I don't have a statute book or my torts outline handy so I'd better just send another mass email.
Every other day, a mass email is sent out by one of my classmates informing everyone that one of the cars in the parking lot has it's lights on. The owner, presumably, scrambles outside to save his or her battery while the hundreds of us that this doesn't effect just delete the email.
Just the other day, I personally noticed that one of the cars in the law school parking lot had it's lights on. Did I send out the typical mass email like everyone else does, confident that providing notice is effective to saving a battery? No, I did not. I walked up to the car like I owned it, opened the front door, leaned inside, and turned the headlights off.
Has this option never occurred to anyone? It's pretty simple, you'd think all the LSAT acers at my school would have figured it out. Sure there's some locked doors out there, but not that many.
Here's what I think happens
Law Student: Maybe I should turn this guy's lights off for him. Would that be criminal trespass? Civil trespass? What if he has a spring-loaded gun like in Katko v. Briney? Is this car an attractive nuisance? I don't have a statute book or my torts outline handy so I'd better just send another mass email.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Random Rant #3
You know what really grinds my gears? Attendance policies.
If you are lucky enough to attend a school that has moved beyond this draconian practice, I envy you greatly. You were smart enough to choose a law school that thinks of its students as slightly more advanced than the average high schooler, and thus does not mandate where to be and when to be there. I, however, did not choose wisely and thus I have experienced two plus years of hand holding and coddling, threats idle and real, and forced attendance in classes which I frankly don't care one bit about.
My school gives a stock reason for enforcing an attendance policy: The ABA mandates it. I did some checking, and their story doesn't quite add up:
Students are required to attend classes regularly. Unless otherwise stated at the beginning of the course, a student missing more than fifteen percent of the class sessions for any reason (including participation in law school sponsored events) will be considered to have failed to attend classes regularly. [ABA Standard 304(e); October 2, 1974, and September 12, 1978.]
Putting on my Scalia hat for a second here, that is not a mandate, it is a suggestion. The plain meaning of "unless otherwise stated..." indicates to me that the policy is not a requirement, but rather, a guideline. "Attend class regularly" can mean different things to different people. Schools do not need to adhere to this policy, and many do not. I have spoken to law students from all over the map, 1st tier through 4th tier, East Coast, West Coast, North, South, and even those weird non-ABA schools in California, and many, many schools do not enforce attendance. So why does mine?
"We are trying to raise our profile amongst law schools"
Okay, fair enough. But if all the best schools do not enforce attendance, how does having required attendance raise our profile? If you want to be one of the big boys, act like it. You don't dress for the job you have; you dress for the job you want to have. Treating 22-60 year olds like children and telling them they have to be in their seats when the bell rings does not make a better law school. Admitting more qualified applicants does.
"The classroom experience is vital to a good legal education"
I disagree. How does my presence in the classroom help anyone? I don't really read for class anymore, so I just stare into space for 50 minutes while other people talk. If called on, I bullshit an answer, and usually get away with it. Even if I don't, I don't sweat it. I have never been the type of student who gets anything out of a lecture, so why should I be required to be there? Come exam time, I study hard (by my standards) and always do better than the curve. So obviously the classroom experience is not vital to succes in law school. Maybe the school thinks it reflects poorly on them if I can do well without being an active participant in class. It doesn't. If they are going to continue to base your grade off of one exam at the end of the semester, they have to realize that everyone learns differently, and they cannot expect everyone to conform to the same standards. If I want to take the scenic route to exams instead of the busy interstate, isn't that my prerogative?
If my school had no attendance policy, it isn't as if I would never go. I would probably skip more than I do now, only because I am allowed only a small number of absences (4 in a two hour course, 6 in a three hour course, and 8 in a four hour course). But I would still go, and depending on the class, I might attend often. But if I choose not to show up, why should my grade be lowered after a certain number of absences? Or, even worse, why should I be disqualified from taking the final if I don't show up to write my name enough times?
I have a theory: My school is ahead of its time. They have found a way to make it's graduates bitter before they even become part of the profession, so that it will be a smoother transition into practice.
Russ summed it up the best: "An attendance policy is like when you treat a kid like he's a bad kid without him doing anything to justify that. 'I know you're a class skipper. Not like little Johnny Harvard'."
If you are lucky enough to attend a school that has moved beyond this draconian practice, I envy you greatly. You were smart enough to choose a law school that thinks of its students as slightly more advanced than the average high schooler, and thus does not mandate where to be and when to be there. I, however, did not choose wisely and thus I have experienced two plus years of hand holding and coddling, threats idle and real, and forced attendance in classes which I frankly don't care one bit about.
My school gives a stock reason for enforcing an attendance policy: The ABA mandates it. I did some checking, and their story doesn't quite add up:
Students are required to attend classes regularly. Unless otherwise stated at the beginning of the course, a student missing more than fifteen percent of the class sessions for any reason (including participation in law school sponsored events) will be considered to have failed to attend classes regularly. [ABA Standard 304(e); October 2, 1974, and September 12, 1978.]
Putting on my Scalia hat for a second here, that is not a mandate, it is a suggestion. The plain meaning of "unless otherwise stated..." indicates to me that the policy is not a requirement, but rather, a guideline. "Attend class regularly" can mean different things to different people. Schools do not need to adhere to this policy, and many do not. I have spoken to law students from all over the map, 1st tier through 4th tier, East Coast, West Coast, North, South, and even those weird non-ABA schools in California, and many, many schools do not enforce attendance. So why does mine?
"We are trying to raise our profile amongst law schools"
Okay, fair enough. But if all the best schools do not enforce attendance, how does having required attendance raise our profile? If you want to be one of the big boys, act like it. You don't dress for the job you have; you dress for the job you want to have. Treating 22-60 year olds like children and telling them they have to be in their seats when the bell rings does not make a better law school. Admitting more qualified applicants does.
"The classroom experience is vital to a good legal education"
I disagree. How does my presence in the classroom help anyone? I don't really read for class anymore, so I just stare into space for 50 minutes while other people talk. If called on, I bullshit an answer, and usually get away with it. Even if I don't, I don't sweat it. I have never been the type of student who gets anything out of a lecture, so why should I be required to be there? Come exam time, I study hard (by my standards) and always do better than the curve. So obviously the classroom experience is not vital to succes in law school. Maybe the school thinks it reflects poorly on them if I can do well without being an active participant in class. It doesn't. If they are going to continue to base your grade off of one exam at the end of the semester, they have to realize that everyone learns differently, and they cannot expect everyone to conform to the same standards. If I want to take the scenic route to exams instead of the busy interstate, isn't that my prerogative?
If my school had no attendance policy, it isn't as if I would never go. I would probably skip more than I do now, only because I am allowed only a small number of absences (4 in a two hour course, 6 in a three hour course, and 8 in a four hour course). But I would still go, and depending on the class, I might attend often. But if I choose not to show up, why should my grade be lowered after a certain number of absences? Or, even worse, why should I be disqualified from taking the final if I don't show up to write my name enough times?
I have a theory: My school is ahead of its time. They have found a way to make it's graduates bitter before they even become part of the profession, so that it will be a smoother transition into practice.
Russ summed it up the best: "An attendance policy is like when you treat a kid like he's a bad kid without him doing anything to justify that. 'I know you're a class skipper. Not like little Johnny Harvard'."
Rememberances of Things Past
Speaking of Black 70s TV shows, I was struck with the following memory.
I was raised in Northern Canada. For some reason, 80% of Canada gets all it's American, i.e. good, television programming out the Detroit affiliates. Therefore, even though we lived thousands of miles from a real city with any diversity, all of the daytime syndicated television shows starred African-Americans. I still remember being about 5 years old at the babysitter's watching "The Jeffersons" with all the other kids. Ten blonde heads swaying with the rhytm and blues theme song. Alas, we didn't know that we didn't have soul until someone told us.
I was raised in Northern Canada. For some reason, 80% of Canada gets all it's American, i.e. good, television programming out the Detroit affiliates. Therefore, even though we lived thousands of miles from a real city with any diversity, all of the daytime syndicated television shows starred African-Americans. I still remember being about 5 years old at the babysitter's watching "The Jeffersons" with all the other kids. Ten blonde heads swaying with the rhytm and blues theme song. Alas, we didn't know that we didn't have soul until someone told us.
For Those Of You Who Think Our Blog Is Immature and Irrelevant
...you're right. But, for some reason we've been linked on an official course website at Bryn Mawr.
We also received a fawning email from a young coed in the class. Well, with great power comes great responsibility, so I had to give those young ladies the following warning.
Ah yes, Bryn Mawr, one of the Seven Sisters. I suggest you stop reading the blog before it ends in the typical heart break.
Radcliffe Rachel: But, Daddy, I love him!
Father: I didn't send you all the way to Massachusetts to end up with one those Barely Legal bloggers from the wrong side of the tracks! If you run off with him, I'll rescind your trust fund
Radcliffe Rachel: We don't need your dirty Wall Street money. I'll take in laundry while he writes down wry observations that always climax with a hilarious punchline.
Father: Dear God, I knew I should have sent you to Mt. Holyoke. At least there I could be confident that you'd end up running an organic produce market with your lesbian partner.
We also received a fawning email from a young coed in the class. Well, with great power comes great responsibility, so I had to give those young ladies the following warning.
Ah yes, Bryn Mawr, one of the Seven Sisters. I suggest you stop reading the blog before it ends in the typical heart break.
Radcliffe Rachel: But, Daddy, I love him!
Father: I didn't send you all the way to Massachusetts to end up with one those Barely Legal bloggers from the wrong side of the tracks! If you run off with him, I'll rescind your trust fund
Radcliffe Rachel: We don't need your dirty Wall Street money. I'll take in laundry while he writes down wry observations that always climax with a hilarious punchline.
Father: Dear God, I knew I should have sent you to Mt. Holyoke. At least there I could be confident that you'd end up running an organic produce market with your lesbian partner.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
More Classroom Antics.
Professor: When you have two clients who are a couple but you don't know if they're married or whether they plan to get married, what do you do?
Classmate: Well, I would delineate all the advantages of marriage: larger tax brackets, tenancy in entirety as a default, the ability to act as each other's agent. Then I would outline the disadvantages: joint liability, etc. Then after a fair appraisal of all the legal consequences they could knowledgably tell me whether they want to enter into the contract of marriage or choose to forgo that option all together.
Professor: Russell, what would you say to these clients?
Russ: I'd say, "So, guys, do I hear wedding bells?"
Classmate: Well, I would delineate all the advantages of marriage: larger tax brackets, tenancy in entirety as a default, the ability to act as each other's agent. Then I would outline the disadvantages: joint liability, etc. Then after a fair appraisal of all the legal consequences they could knowledgably tell me whether they want to enter into the contract of marriage or choose to forgo that option all together.
Professor: Russell, what would you say to these clients?
Russ: I'd say, "So, guys, do I hear wedding bells?"
Monday, October 31, 2005
Russ and Mike Chew the Fat
Mike's IM conversation got us talking about the loans people take out for law school
Mike: Anyone who pays full price for law school and takes out loans is a fool, it just isn't worth it.
Russ: I agree completley. A damn fool.
Mike: There isn't a Black 70's sitcom character in the world sassy enough to put the proper emphasis on 'damn' to express how foolish it is.
Russ: Not even Nell Carter?
Mike: Not even Nell Carter.
Mike: Anyone who pays full price for law school and takes out loans is a fool, it just isn't worth it.
Russ: I agree completley. A damn fool.
Mike: There isn't a Black 70's sitcom character in the world sassy enough to put the proper emphasis on 'damn' to express how foolish it is.
Russ: Not even Nell Carter?
Mike: Not even Nell Carter.
Recent IM Conversation
AnonymousReader: i am going for a big firm job
barelylegalblog: good luck
AnonymousReader: but i dont really want it
barelylegalblog: why not?
AnonymousReader: i need the money...the only reason i went to law school to begin with was to pay off my undergrad loans
barelylegalblog: did you take out more loans for law school?
AnonymousReader: yes
barelylegalblog: let me get this straight...you were in debt after undergrad, so you took out more loans and went deeper in debt to get a job to help pay off your loans...
AnonymousReader: yes
barelylegalblog: and the only reason you are going after a firm job is to make enough money to pay off the loans you took out to get a job to help pay off the loans you already had, even though you don't want the job you have to take to pay off the loans
AnonymousReader: i guess
barelylegalblog: i'm guessing you didn't do too well on the logical reasoning portion of the LSATs
AnonymousReader: fuck you
barelylegalblog: i call 'em like i see 'em
barelylegalblog: good luck
AnonymousReader: but i dont really want it
barelylegalblog: why not?
AnonymousReader: i need the money...the only reason i went to law school to begin with was to pay off my undergrad loans
barelylegalblog: did you take out more loans for law school?
AnonymousReader: yes
barelylegalblog: let me get this straight...you were in debt after undergrad, so you took out more loans and went deeper in debt to get a job to help pay off your loans...
AnonymousReader: yes
barelylegalblog: and the only reason you are going after a firm job is to make enough money to pay off the loans you took out to get a job to help pay off the loans you already had, even though you don't want the job you have to take to pay off the loans
AnonymousReader: i guess
barelylegalblog: i'm guessing you didn't do too well on the logical reasoning portion of the LSATs
AnonymousReader: fuck you
barelylegalblog: i call 'em like i see 'em
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Random Observation
I was just at the store and saw a guy with a t-shirt that said "I'm Going Nucking Futs".
All I could think was "That guy is a ducking fork".
All I could think was "That guy is a ducking fork".
Saturday, October 29, 2005
I'm looking for a journal to publish an article I just finished...
It's titled:
18 Years, 18 Years, She Got One of Your Kids, She Got You For 18 Years; The Rise of Golddiggers in Our Society and the Response of Domestic Relations Courts
18 Years, 18 Years, She Got One of Your Kids, She Got You For 18 Years; The Rise of Golddiggers in Our Society and the Response of Domestic Relations Courts
Thursday, October 27, 2005
The Kroger's Chronicles #10: The Final Chapter
Over the last few months you have read about my exploits from when I was 16 and worked at Kroger's. People really loved those stories, which sort of surprised me, and I certainly didn't think that I would get the response that I did. So, I have written all the best stories that I can remember, and I owe it to you to tell you how my employment ultimately ended. I wish this was the best of the stories; I wish I had been fired due to some grand prank gone horribly awry or something like that. But, since these stories are not made up, I can't very well make up the ending. Maybe you'll like it, maybe you'll be disappointed. But without further ado, here is the final story.
I began working at Kroger's in March of my sophomore year of high school, worked there through the summer, and I planned on quitting once school started because the Fall was my busiest time of year. I told Judy I was going to quit, and she begged me to stay on. They were short staffed and I was pretty experienced, and they didn't want to lose me. Seeing my negotiation position greatly increased, I told Judy I would stay on, under my terms. Those terms were not unreasonable. I told her I would work three nights a week, no weekends, and I didn't have to be in until 6:30. She agreed, but stipulated that if I didn't come in until 6:30, I would have to stay and close, which was at 10pm. I agreed, and we set my schedule up so I would only work on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights, 6:30-10. Everyone was happy.
School started, and I began my new work schedule. Immediately, I had one big problem. While I was scheduled until 10, the closing procedures took a while and I never got out of there before 10:30, and sometimes, not until 11. At first, I started closing early, around 9:30, so that I would be done with the procedures by 10. But some uppity customer complained, and I was sternly told not to close the gate until 10pm. I needed a new plan, so I decided to cut out the most arduous closing task: Shelving the videos.
Shelving the videos doesn't sound tough, but it is. Most people return videos between 8pm and close, lest it be late and they be given a late fee. And, the evening hours were the busiest, so it was difficult to take care of customers, check the returned videos back into the system, and then put them back on the shelves. So typically, I would let the returns pile up, and check them back in and shelve them after close. This took, at a minimum, 20 minutes, and often took longer than 30. One day, all I did was check them back in (the easy part) and leave them on the cart where we put movies to be shelved, and figured I'd let the person who opened shelve them the next morning. However, the lady who opened did not appreciate me leaving nearly 100 movies for her to shelve, and complained. That night I came in, and Judy again sternly warned me that I was to have all movies shelved before I left.
I was sulking that evening around 9:30, checking in the movies but not looking forward to shelving them, when one of the baggers, John, came in. John was in his late teens, out of school, and worked full time as a bag boy. (Before you judge him, let me tell you that he was also mentally challenged. Not Corky from Life Goes On challenged, more like Forrest Gump challenged. Slow but functional.) Every night after work, John came in and rented a movie or two, and this night was no different. He noticed me sulking and asked what was wrong. I explained that I didn't want to shelve the movies, that it takes forever, etc. Then I had an idea. "John", I said, "How would you like a free movie tonight?". He asked what he had to do, and I told him that if he shelved the movies for me, his movie would be free. He seemed very enthusiastic about this arrangement. I told him how to shelve the movies, and he quickly got to work. When he was done, I rang up his movie as free, closed the gate, ran the daily report, and was out the door by 10:05.
The next time I worked, I went and found John up front, about an hour before his shift ended (which was at 9:30). I told him that if he came and shelved the movies for me again, there was another free rental in it for him. He agreed, came back after he was off, and shelved the movies. I rang up his rental as free, and was out the door by five after ten again.
This arrangment continued for maybe a month, and I figured that I had found a perfect way to avoid staying late. I knew that it was very wrong, since the first day of work they told me that giving away free movies was about the worst thing you could do. But I was cocky and thought I could get away with it. However, I made one crucial mistake. In order to ring up a movie as free, you had to be a manager. I certainly was not a manager, but I did know Judy's password. Whenever I rang John up, I entered her password to authorize a free rental. I knew that this would leave a paper trail, but I figured that the managers were idiots and wouldn't know. (Granted, it should have been more obvious to me that they would find out, but given my previous encounters with them, can you blame me?)
One day, I came into work, and as soon as I got back to the video department, the phone rang and Judy told me, in a very ominous tone, that I had to come see her in the manager's office. I knew exactly what she wanted to see me about.
I slowly walked the stairs and opened the door to the office. Inside sat Judy, Brad (one of the other assistant managers) and Jim (the head store manager). They all had very serious looks on thier faces. Brad motioned for me to sit down, and I did. They looked at me and I looked at them for what seemed like an eternity, before Judy spoke.
"Mike, we found out what's been going on down in the video department every night."
My mind immediately jumped to a line by Newman in a Seinfeld episode I had recently seen. I looked at her and said, smugly, "Oh yeah? What took you so long?"
All three of them became infuriated at the sheer audacity that I displayed. Brad angrily went down the list of things that I had done, and said that the worst thing was bringing John into the whole situation. I said that I didn't think it was that bad and tried to defend myself by saying that John was a willing participant in my movie shelving scheme. Brad, who was almost shouting, said, "You took advantage of a mentally challenged person for your own personal gain."
I responded: "Well, sure, anything sounds bad if you put it like that".
Jim finally cut to the chase and told me I was no longer welcome to work there. Then, displaying his own audacity, asked me to resign instead of being fired, so that the union wouldn't get invloved. In what had to be my only moment of weakness, I agreed. They asked my to write a resignation letter. They handed me a piece of paper and a pen. I wrote:
Dear Kroger's,
I resign.
Love,
Mike
I handed it to Judy, tossed her my nametag, and left the office. I went down the stairs, ran back to the video department to grab my book, and left the store. I would like to say that all the employees saw me leaving, knowing I had been let go. I would like to say that one bagger began to clap slowly as I left, and was soon joined by all Kroger employees as I made my final exit to a deafening ovation. But they didn't. No one noticed, except one person. As I was walking towards my car, I heard a voice behind me. "Mike....MIKE!", he said. I turned around and saw John running towards me. He got to me, and, out of breath, said "Thanks for the free movies".
"No problem", I responded, as I got into my car and drove away.
I began working at Kroger's in March of my sophomore year of high school, worked there through the summer, and I planned on quitting once school started because the Fall was my busiest time of year. I told Judy I was going to quit, and she begged me to stay on. They were short staffed and I was pretty experienced, and they didn't want to lose me. Seeing my negotiation position greatly increased, I told Judy I would stay on, under my terms. Those terms were not unreasonable. I told her I would work three nights a week, no weekends, and I didn't have to be in until 6:30. She agreed, but stipulated that if I didn't come in until 6:30, I would have to stay and close, which was at 10pm. I agreed, and we set my schedule up so I would only work on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights, 6:30-10. Everyone was happy.
School started, and I began my new work schedule. Immediately, I had one big problem. While I was scheduled until 10, the closing procedures took a while and I never got out of there before 10:30, and sometimes, not until 11. At first, I started closing early, around 9:30, so that I would be done with the procedures by 10. But some uppity customer complained, and I was sternly told not to close the gate until 10pm. I needed a new plan, so I decided to cut out the most arduous closing task: Shelving the videos.
Shelving the videos doesn't sound tough, but it is. Most people return videos between 8pm and close, lest it be late and they be given a late fee. And, the evening hours were the busiest, so it was difficult to take care of customers, check the returned videos back into the system, and then put them back on the shelves. So typically, I would let the returns pile up, and check them back in and shelve them after close. This took, at a minimum, 20 minutes, and often took longer than 30. One day, all I did was check them back in (the easy part) and leave them on the cart where we put movies to be shelved, and figured I'd let the person who opened shelve them the next morning. However, the lady who opened did not appreciate me leaving nearly 100 movies for her to shelve, and complained. That night I came in, and Judy again sternly warned me that I was to have all movies shelved before I left.
I was sulking that evening around 9:30, checking in the movies but not looking forward to shelving them, when one of the baggers, John, came in. John was in his late teens, out of school, and worked full time as a bag boy. (Before you judge him, let me tell you that he was also mentally challenged. Not Corky from Life Goes On challenged, more like Forrest Gump challenged. Slow but functional.) Every night after work, John came in and rented a movie or two, and this night was no different. He noticed me sulking and asked what was wrong. I explained that I didn't want to shelve the movies, that it takes forever, etc. Then I had an idea. "John", I said, "How would you like a free movie tonight?". He asked what he had to do, and I told him that if he shelved the movies for me, his movie would be free. He seemed very enthusiastic about this arrangement. I told him how to shelve the movies, and he quickly got to work. When he was done, I rang up his movie as free, closed the gate, ran the daily report, and was out the door by 10:05.
The next time I worked, I went and found John up front, about an hour before his shift ended (which was at 9:30). I told him that if he came and shelved the movies for me again, there was another free rental in it for him. He agreed, came back after he was off, and shelved the movies. I rang up his rental as free, and was out the door by five after ten again.
This arrangment continued for maybe a month, and I figured that I had found a perfect way to avoid staying late. I knew that it was very wrong, since the first day of work they told me that giving away free movies was about the worst thing you could do. But I was cocky and thought I could get away with it. However, I made one crucial mistake. In order to ring up a movie as free, you had to be a manager. I certainly was not a manager, but I did know Judy's password. Whenever I rang John up, I entered her password to authorize a free rental. I knew that this would leave a paper trail, but I figured that the managers were idiots and wouldn't know. (Granted, it should have been more obvious to me that they would find out, but given my previous encounters with them, can you blame me?)
One day, I came into work, and as soon as I got back to the video department, the phone rang and Judy told me, in a very ominous tone, that I had to come see her in the manager's office. I knew exactly what she wanted to see me about.
I slowly walked the stairs and opened the door to the office. Inside sat Judy, Brad (one of the other assistant managers) and Jim (the head store manager). They all had very serious looks on thier faces. Brad motioned for me to sit down, and I did. They looked at me and I looked at them for what seemed like an eternity, before Judy spoke.
"Mike, we found out what's been going on down in the video department every night."
My mind immediately jumped to a line by Newman in a Seinfeld episode I had recently seen. I looked at her and said, smugly, "Oh yeah? What took you so long?"
All three of them became infuriated at the sheer audacity that I displayed. Brad angrily went down the list of things that I had done, and said that the worst thing was bringing John into the whole situation. I said that I didn't think it was that bad and tried to defend myself by saying that John was a willing participant in my movie shelving scheme. Brad, who was almost shouting, said, "You took advantage of a mentally challenged person for your own personal gain."
I responded: "Well, sure, anything sounds bad if you put it like that".
Jim finally cut to the chase and told me I was no longer welcome to work there. Then, displaying his own audacity, asked me to resign instead of being fired, so that the union wouldn't get invloved. In what had to be my only moment of weakness, I agreed. They asked my to write a resignation letter. They handed me a piece of paper and a pen. I wrote:
Dear Kroger's,
I resign.
Love,
Mike
I handed it to Judy, tossed her my nametag, and left the office. I went down the stairs, ran back to the video department to grab my book, and left the store. I would like to say that all the employees saw me leaving, knowing I had been let go. I would like to say that one bagger began to clap slowly as I left, and was soon joined by all Kroger employees as I made my final exit to a deafening ovation. But they didn't. No one noticed, except one person. As I was walking towards my car, I heard a voice behind me. "Mike....MIKE!", he said. I turned around and saw John running towards me. He got to me, and, out of breath, said "Thanks for the free movies".
"No problem", I responded, as I got into my car and drove away.
To the stripper,
You had a lot of choices at hand. You could have gone old school for the 30 something white guys with all the money and asked the DJ to play Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me." Or you could have played up to the younger crowd and gone with whatever top 40 rap song was available, possibly Kanye West's "Gold Digger" or the Black Eyed Peas "My Hump." But, instead you chose to play that complicated tangle of a song by Fiona Apple, "Shadowboxer." While you writhed on the floor, I saw the pain of the contradictions you live with every time you step on that stage. That night, I felt that you were more than an object. You were a human, a woman, an artist. So, when you told me you were dancing to put yourself through school, I paid you the highest compliment: I believed you.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
The 2L Blues
Russ and I recently heard through the grapevine that a friend of ours, who is a 2L, is having a rough time this year. We both immediately recognized the problem: He has the 2L blues.
This is a very common occurence among second year law students, and really, the explanation is simple: There is so much build-up to the first year, between the workload and the pressure and the stress and the commitment. You manage to make your way through the first semester, and finals, and the second semester, and more finals. You develop coping mechanisms to help you out, both healthy and unhealthy. Finally, it's over, and what is your reward? A summer of volunteer work, and two more years of school. It's a real 'fuck you' to walk into school your second year and realize that very little has changed.
Both Russ and I experienced our share of the 2L blues. Russ told me he stopped being as social, but kept drinking like he was. I seriously considered quitting school, and almost did, before my mother reminded me that quitting school meant getting a job. So instead, I just stopped giving a shit about it and decided to enjoy my two years of lawyer college as best I could. Oh yeah, and we started a blog.
For your 3L's, you know exactly what I am talking about. For you 2L's going through it now, suck it up and get through. I don't know what else to say. I guess you could drink excessively or stop caring, but proceed at your own risk. And for you 1L's looking to avoid it next year, good luck, but you can't escape it. After all, in the words of a classic mafia movie cliche, this is the life we've chosen.
This is a very common occurence among second year law students, and really, the explanation is simple: There is so much build-up to the first year, between the workload and the pressure and the stress and the commitment. You manage to make your way through the first semester, and finals, and the second semester, and more finals. You develop coping mechanisms to help you out, both healthy and unhealthy. Finally, it's over, and what is your reward? A summer of volunteer work, and two more years of school. It's a real 'fuck you' to walk into school your second year and realize that very little has changed.
Both Russ and I experienced our share of the 2L blues. Russ told me he stopped being as social, but kept drinking like he was. I seriously considered quitting school, and almost did, before my mother reminded me that quitting school meant getting a job. So instead, I just stopped giving a shit about it and decided to enjoy my two years of lawyer college as best I could. Oh yeah, and we started a blog.
For your 3L's, you know exactly what I am talking about. For you 2L's going through it now, suck it up and get through. I don't know what else to say. I guess you could drink excessively or stop caring, but proceed at your own risk. And for you 1L's looking to avoid it next year, good luck, but you can't escape it. After all, in the words of a classic mafia movie cliche, this is the life we've chosen.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Exchange with the GF
I communicate throughout the day with my girlfriend through her work email from my school email. This often leads to some humorous exchanges.
Russ@lawschool.edu: Some girl hit on me today at work. I've never been hit on that aggressively before. She almost broke my spirit.
Girlfriend@realjob.com: Well I'm glad you were able to maintain your will power for at least a few minutes.
Russ@lawschool.edu: I don't know. I think you have reason to be worried, she said she was Sicilian. That means that, presumably, she can make pizza, pasta, and tiramisu (all my favorites).
Girlfriend@realjob.com: It also means, presumably, that she has a hairy ass. I hope you enjoy running your fingers through it after stuffing yourself with her home-made spaghetti-o's.
Russ@lawschol.edu: Your previous email has been forwarded to your human resources sensitivity coordinator, Vito Taglialucci.
Russ@lawschool.edu: Some girl hit on me today at work. I've never been hit on that aggressively before. She almost broke my spirit.
Girlfriend@realjob.com: Well I'm glad you were able to maintain your will power for at least a few minutes.
Russ@lawschool.edu: I don't know. I think you have reason to be worried, she said she was Sicilian. That means that, presumably, she can make pizza, pasta, and tiramisu (all my favorites).
Girlfriend@realjob.com: It also means, presumably, that she has a hairy ass. I hope you enjoy running your fingers through it after stuffing yourself with her home-made spaghetti-o's.
Russ@lawschol.edu: Your previous email has been forwarded to your human resources sensitivity coordinator, Vito Taglialucci.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Random Rant #2
You know what really grinds my gears? People who don't buy parking passes and then complain about their parking situations. Now, I don't know how it is at your school, but here, the law school parking lot is cheap, spaces are plentiful, and the lot is right across the street from the school. It is an ideal parking situation. Yet there are people who refuse, for one reason or another, to buy a pass.
If someone decides not to buy a parking pass, that is certainly their right. But in choosing not to do so, they forfeit their right to complain that they had to park six blocks away and walk in the rain. It is sort of like the person who doesn't buy a book for a class...They can't get upset if the professor makes them look like an idiot.
The one thing I don't understand is why someone wouldn't buy one to begin with. The lot is brand new, there are plenty of spaces, and it's so close. And the best part? It's only $120 for the YEAR. That, my friends, is a bargain. Let me break that down: There are 15 weeks in the semester, so 3o total weeks of classes. Assuming you go to class five days a week (and at my school, you probably do, because someone apparently forgot to give whoever makes the class schedules the memo that no core upper level classes should ever meet on Friday), that $120 parking pass comes out to $4 a week, or a whopping $.80 per day. That is nothing, just buy the freaking pass or stop complaining!
Sorry, I had to get that off my chest.
If someone decides not to buy a parking pass, that is certainly their right. But in choosing not to do so, they forfeit their right to complain that they had to park six blocks away and walk in the rain. It is sort of like the person who doesn't buy a book for a class...They can't get upset if the professor makes them look like an idiot.
The one thing I don't understand is why someone wouldn't buy one to begin with. The lot is brand new, there are plenty of spaces, and it's so close. And the best part? It's only $120 for the YEAR. That, my friends, is a bargain. Let me break that down: There are 15 weeks in the semester, so 3o total weeks of classes. Assuming you go to class five days a week (and at my school, you probably do, because someone apparently forgot to give whoever makes the class schedules the memo that no core upper level classes should ever meet on Friday), that $120 parking pass comes out to $4 a week, or a whopping $.80 per day. That is nothing, just buy the freaking pass or stop complaining!
Sorry, I had to get that off my chest.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Bombs Away!
My high school was a lot like Beverly Hills 90210, except there were very few rich and/or white students. Still, there were plenty of hijinks (most involved casual violence and drugs, though). I still fondly recall when we'd get a full period to go hang out in the baseball field when some incorrigible scamp called in a bomb scare (I know what you're thinking and it was not me. I was an angel compared to most kids in my school). Pre-Columbine, a bomb scare was less terrifying than it was annoying.
One time we had to spend more than a period out on the baseball field because someone decided to go the extra mile and actually plant a real bomb before they called in the threat. So, 1200 students were baking in the late spring's heat all afternoon. There were only 6 security guards and 50 teachers to keep us settled. The kids started to get restless, lighting cigarettes, throwing things at each other, chanting, "Let us go home."
The principal got on her bullhorn and announced "We know we can't physically hold you all, but we're watching you and if we see you leave, we'll write you up and suspend you." The crowd became dejected because there was no way the entire school would storm the gates and leave (mostly because nerds like me were too afraid).
Then some genius 14 year old freshman realized how to get around this dilemma: he put his shirt over his head so no one would recognize him as he ran off the field, through the bushes, and into the street. The entire school cheered for him as he pumped his little legs and the principal shouted, "Get back here, whoever you are," on her bullhorn.
My friend, Ron, was blown away by this kid's bravado and brilliance. Ron was one of the most trouble making seniors in our school and saw a little of himself in this pint-sized Patrick Henry. "That kid is great! I'm going to buy him a lunch."
Then a few minutes later, the now famous freshman was escorted back onto the baseball field by a police officer. Everyone booed and soon the story began spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Once the kid escaped the baseball field, he realized he lived 4 miles from the school, so he went to a bus stop where the police promptly found him, gave him a truancy violation, and then returned him to school.
So this poor freshman, in the space of an hour, had received the entire school's open adulation, then their collective disgust, a truancy violation, and a suspension from the principal. To top it all off, a heavily muscled Mexican-American senior named Ron, who the freshman had never met before in his life, immediately got in the freshman's face, poked him in the chest and shouted, "Fuck you, man! I was going to buy you a lunch!"
One time we had to spend more than a period out on the baseball field because someone decided to go the extra mile and actually plant a real bomb before they called in the threat. So, 1200 students were baking in the late spring's heat all afternoon. There were only 6 security guards and 50 teachers to keep us settled. The kids started to get restless, lighting cigarettes, throwing things at each other, chanting, "Let us go home."
The principal got on her bullhorn and announced "We know we can't physically hold you all, but we're watching you and if we see you leave, we'll write you up and suspend you." The crowd became dejected because there was no way the entire school would storm the gates and leave (mostly because nerds like me were too afraid).
Then some genius 14 year old freshman realized how to get around this dilemma: he put his shirt over his head so no one would recognize him as he ran off the field, through the bushes, and into the street. The entire school cheered for him as he pumped his little legs and the principal shouted, "Get back here, whoever you are," on her bullhorn.
My friend, Ron, was blown away by this kid's bravado and brilliance. Ron was one of the most trouble making seniors in our school and saw a little of himself in this pint-sized Patrick Henry. "That kid is great! I'm going to buy him a lunch."
Then a few minutes later, the now famous freshman was escorted back onto the baseball field by a police officer. Everyone booed and soon the story began spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Once the kid escaped the baseball field, he realized he lived 4 miles from the school, so he went to a bus stop where the police promptly found him, gave him a truancy violation, and then returned him to school.
So this poor freshman, in the space of an hour, had received the entire school's open adulation, then their collective disgust, a truancy violation, and a suspension from the principal. To top it all off, a heavily muscled Mexican-American senior named Ron, who the freshman had never met before in his life, immediately got in the freshman's face, poked him in the chest and shouted, "Fuck you, man! I was going to buy you a lunch!"
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
For all the female readers who have asked for a picture of us...
I regret to inform you that we don't send out pictures of ourselves, mostly because we don't have any. If you must have a mental image, look at one of those Abercrombie catalog photos, where two clean cut shirtless guys are tossing a football on the beach, comfortable in their heterosexuality. For example:
(Note: I am on the right, Russ is on the left)
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Russ's Recipe for Baked Ziti
Every man should know how to make at least one dish really well. For me, that dish is baked Ziti. Below is the recipe.
1 lb. ziti noodles.
1 can of marinara sauce.
1 small can of diced tomatoes (preferably italian style)
4 ounces of pepperoni slices
2 cups of mixed italian cheeses (they usually come mixed pre-packaged).
1 tablespoon of oregano
1 tablespoon of basil
Dice the Pepperoni slices. Boil the ziti. Drain. Mix in marinara, tomatoes, pepperoni, basil, oregano, and one cup of the mixed italian cheese. Put mix in casserole dish. Cover with remaining cup of italian cheese. Bake casserole at 275 degrees for 45 minutes.
Here's the best thing about this dish: It actually gets better the older it is when you have to reheat it. It develops a more chewy and infused character.
I used to live with Norm and I once made a pan of baked ziti and didn't even eat any of it straight out of the oven. Instead, I left the pan of ziti in the fridge to ripen into it's true chewy deliciousness. The next morning I woke up and half the pan was gone. My roommate, Norm, was layed out on the couch next to a tomato stained plate.
He managed to lift his head out of his food induced coma and say, "Russell, you make a damn fine baked ziti."
Praise from Caesar.
1 lb. ziti noodles.
1 can of marinara sauce.
1 small can of diced tomatoes (preferably italian style)
4 ounces of pepperoni slices
2 cups of mixed italian cheeses (they usually come mixed pre-packaged).
1 tablespoon of oregano
1 tablespoon of basil
Dice the Pepperoni slices. Boil the ziti. Drain. Mix in marinara, tomatoes, pepperoni, basil, oregano, and one cup of the mixed italian cheese. Put mix in casserole dish. Cover with remaining cup of italian cheese. Bake casserole at 275 degrees for 45 minutes.
Here's the best thing about this dish: It actually gets better the older it is when you have to reheat it. It develops a more chewy and infused character.
I used to live with Norm and I once made a pan of baked ziti and didn't even eat any of it straight out of the oven. Instead, I left the pan of ziti in the fridge to ripen into it's true chewy deliciousness. The next morning I woke up and half the pan was gone. My roommate, Norm, was layed out on the couch next to a tomato stained plate.
He managed to lift his head out of his food induced coma and say, "Russell, you make a damn fine baked ziti."
Praise from Caesar.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Story Contest Winner
Due to an overwhelming response, it took me a while to get through all the stories that were submitted. But I have chosen the winner, from a reader named Maggie. She wins the honor of seeing her name in print on this blog. So without further ado, here is her story:
This woman, we'll call her Eliza, is probably in her early thirties (although I am bad at guessing ages) and for ten years taught English in Japan, which is pretty cool. She is white however, and looks her race. Now for class she dresses like a normal nerdy person with no fashion sense, but for any school function/party/dance (yes we have law prom) she shows up in kimonos. She managed to con two other interesting classmates into wearing them to the local Japanese restaurant. I took all this as her just being one of those quirky people in life--she uses a rolly bookbag (which she shamelessly rams into your achilles heel as she scurries to class), she drinks rice milk out of a mason jar, ect-- but then I heard a story about her job this summer. She was working for a firm up in a big city and they had some big meeting with higher-ups and clients, where professional attire would have been appropriate. Most people were wearing suits even. I shit you not, she showed up in a kimono.
Good work, Maggie. The idiocy of law students never ceases to amaze me.
This woman, we'll call her Eliza, is probably in her early thirties (although I am bad at guessing ages) and for ten years taught English in Japan, which is pretty cool. She is white however, and looks her race. Now for class she dresses like a normal nerdy person with no fashion sense, but for any school function/party/dance (yes we have law prom) she shows up in kimonos. She managed to con two other interesting classmates into wearing them to the local Japanese restaurant. I took all this as her just being one of those quirky people in life--she uses a rolly bookbag (which she shamelessly rams into your achilles heel as she scurries to class), she drinks rice milk out of a mason jar, ect-- but then I heard a story about her job this summer. She was working for a firm up in a big city and they had some big meeting with higher-ups and clients, where professional attire would have been appropriate. Most people were wearing suits even. I shit you not, she showed up in a kimono.
Good work, Maggie. The idiocy of law students never ceases to amaze me.
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