It may be time to post some content on this blog again. I have not written anything for publication in months. I've been keeping a file (read: pile) of notes. A few scraps or paper, really, here and there.
I am now over year out from graduation. I am not employed as an attorney. Nor, have I been at any time in the last 12 months. At least not in any sense of the word used in common conversation with normal, average, reasonable people. I was "employed" as far as my law school is concerned. And, I was employed as far as the USNWR folks are concerned.
I was a "graduate fellow." No, I don't know what it means either. Other than a rather grim view of what people will do when the opportunity to falsely represent themselves arises. And I mean the law schools, not the graduates.
You see, the magic number is nine months. Yes, what matters is what the graduate is doing nine months after graduation. If the graduate is not "employed" in the common sense of the word, working for pay, full time, in a job which requires a JD, well, such information would be damaging to a law schools ranking. So, the answer is to create, out of thin air, a "job" for this student.
Hence, the Graduate Fellowship Program. Or, GFP (Get Fucking Paid). I was offered a check for five thousand dollars ($5,000) if I agreed to volunteer my services, part time, for the remaining length of the spring semester.
I am not a proud man. I signed the contract and accepted payment.
That check sat on my counter for two months. I simply could not face it. I guess I was more proud than I originally thought.
I eventually deposited it at my bank. In a separate savings account, populated only with those funds. It is dirty money. Dirty. Fucking. Money. I may need it someday. But, for now, I can't stand the thought of co-mingling such gains with the funds that feed my children.
I wish I had the strength of character to decline the school's offer and say, "No. No, you count me as unemployed. Because that is what I am."