It's a small victory. I've come up empty everywhere else: 2L OCI, Fall OCI, mass mails to every midlaw and shitlaw firm in every market but Alaska. "But I go to a T-6," I wanted to scream to them, to those employers, to myself, to nobody in particular. "I go to a T-6."

In March, I gave up, emailed the nonprofit I worked for my 1L summer, attached an updated transcript with my A- in Evidence from the Fall. I called my supervisor to ask him to put in good word, reminded them that they still don't have to pay me anything. They obliged and for a few days I was elated.

***

I look up from my plate of pizza and my classmate, some board member of some significance in FedSoc, is on the podium now. I wonder if he has a summer job. He seems like a smart guy. He's introducing today's guest speaker. Mentions something about the Cato Institute. "A real privilege," he says, this speaker of ours, taking time out of his busy schedule, his life, his career. I envy that this man has a career.

My mind wanders to a conversation I had last week with an old acquaintance, someone I hadn't talked to since college. Ran into him near the Halal cart on 53rd and 6th. Makes six figures at Goldman. My age.

"Yea, I know what I'm doing this summer," I told him.

Then I answer the inevitable follow-up question, my voice breaking slightly as I explain that it's a non-profit, that I had worked there already last summer and loved it and couldn't wait to go back.

He pretends to be impressed. "They seem like they do a lot of important work."

"Thanks," I explained, "but it doesn’t pay much." I pray he doesn’t pry further.

"Oh really, how much?"

"Well, actually, they don't pay anything, but I get a public interest stipend from my school."

He paused, thinking.

"Well, congratulations!" he said. "That's great. You're going to save the world," he said, his hand on my shoulder, a mechanical gesture of comfort. A big smile stapled onto his face.

I'm less optimistic, but he insists on being polite. "I'm sure you'll be fine," he said. "I mean, your school is what, like top 10 or something, right?"

"Yea, top 6 actually," I corrected. I cling to the shred of prestige like a wet t-shirt does to a 19 year-old co-ed in Cabo.

"Oh, that’s right. That’s great. So you’ll definitely be fine." I saw the pity in his eyes. He broke the tension by flipping out his Blackberry, pretending to answer another important e-mail. "I've got to get back to the office," he said. "But hey, it was great running into you." After he's gone, I realized I'd forgotten to ask for his business card. The career office told us to work our networks. I cursed myself for the lapse.

***

Back at lunch, a few rows of people have filtered into the classroom. The board member is still going on about our speaker.

There are deadlines coming up. In a couple days I'll polish off my candidate statement for the Federalist Society elections. I need all the lines on my resume I can get. "I enjoy going to your events," I'll write. Maybe I'll insert a joke about only going for the pizza. I hope they'll remember that I usually stay for the entire event.

Maybe I'll try out for a moot court team next fall. Or an externship, or a clinic. I've already got Articles Editor of my secondary journal locked up, and it gives me some solace. It has to count for something, right?

I try to think of ways to spin the work experience section of my resume so that it'll look more substantial. I wonder whether to put two separate entries for my summers, given that they’re at the same organization. Maybe I can ask them to give me a different title this time. I wonder if I can be a Senior Legal Intern. "The same job, twice?" I imagine interviewers next fall asking me.

That’s if they ask me anything at all, but I try not to think about that. Some say that 3L OCI is a myth. That it doesn't exist, it’s a fairytale. But I've got to keep the dream alive. I’ve got to hope.

Hope, because it got a President elected. Because it keeps me going.

Hope for a better economy, better days, better meals.

Around me, I hear applause. The speaker has finally taken the podium. I bite into my slice of cheese and look up.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1287006&forum_id=2#14752839)

I go to CCN this year but went to top 5 last year~!

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1287006&forum_id=2#14753379)

might as well be in yonkers

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1287006&forum_id=2#14754179)

EDIT: and enjoy your pizza

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1287006&forum_id=2#14753147)

Aw, you have to deal with uncertainty for a year of your life. Aw, you rely on free pizza as a student.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1287006&forum_id=2#14753412)

This was well-written, but still bitch-made.

The protagonist seems to believe that he is entitled to something, ANYTHING, just because he goes to a highly (if not artificially) ranked law school.

He now has to struggle like millions of other Americans, CONGRAT-U-FUCKIN-LATIONS!

Welcome to the real world, kiddies, your standardized score means shits.

P.S.

I appreciated the effort put into the story, tho.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1287006&forum_id=2#14767562)