Legal Brief
He said enough. Enough said.
Gertrude Stein
NOW commute downtown Manhattan, drive Connecticut Plymouth and eat peanut butter sandwiches three nights a week to save money for law school. And you have a boss just out of Harvard Law who orders his lunch in French, plays squash, spends his weekends in the Hamptons, drives a Ferrari, has "future partner" written all over him....and is patronizing as hell about it! How would you feel?
Me too. I hated Stanley's guts!
So when I saw the ad for a paralegal in a manufacturing company just 15 minutes from home, at about the same money with all benefits, including tuition reimbursement, and no Stanley, I jumped at it. And I got an interview.
I talked with the personnel director first and knew right away I was golden with him. He liked my qualifications, and I could talk his language. They manufactured construction cable and chain. My father worked for Bridgeport Brass, so I tossed off a few intelligent remarks about alloys and tensile strength. He gobbled it up.
The personnel guy took me up to their general counsel. He was a big man, 50-ish, with a wrinkled brown suit, huge hands and a wide, welcoming grin. "Happy to meet you, Gene, come on in, I'm just making coffee. Have a doughnut. Yeah, I like those little cream-filled suckers too. By the way, call me Bob."
Now here's an unpretentious guy. I thought. He probably had to really scratch to get where he is. What a difference from Stanley! We sat down at a scarred conference table littered with papers and books and he said, "Okay, Gene, here's the skinny. I'm up to my neck here. I gotta draw all our contracts, research and file our environmental statements, keep the SEC, EPA and OSHA happy and deal with a bunch of Fairfield County lawyers outta Yale who eat cucumber sandwiches on Sunday afternoons.
"I'm all alone so you'd report directly to me. It's a big workload, but we pay time-and-a-half for overtime. Plus, there's a fair amount of travel around the state, so we have a company car available. How's it sound?"
"You want the tnith?" I said. "Fabulous! I can help you, really get into all that for you. I already know something about metals and the construction industry. And I'd sure like working for you."
In fact, I was so excited I took a big swig of hot coffee and burned my tongue.
Bob finished his coffee and sprawled back in his chair. "Good. So tell me, Gene, why are you looking to leave where you are now? That's a good firm."
I sat back too, confident and expansive. "That's true, it's a great firm and I'm learning a lot there. And Manhattan's a really with-it place. But there's the commute. And taxes.
"And frankly, Bob, I hate my boss's guts." Mentally, I flipped Stanley a great big bird. "He's a snotty little rich kid, Harvard Law and all that, and he never lets me forget it. I can't stand those bluebloods. I mean, just because his daddy could send him to Harvard to study torts with some doddering old, you should excuse me, some doddering old farts, I mean, just because his snooty Harvard buddies put him right on the partnership track doesn't mean he's any better than me, right? I'm no dope, you know."
The interview ended shortly after that. Bob mentioned something vague about a decision in the next few weeks and, I wasn't sure why, he seemed to get more formal.
Then as I was leaving his office I saw them. Grouped and prominently displayed on the wall by the door: a Harvard plaque and, on either side of it, framed Harvard undergraduate or law degrees. I felt like a complete and total fool.
"Thanks for coming. Gene," he said from behind me. "I'm sure you're smart enough to find your own way out. And incidentally. Harvard has a wonderful scholarship program." All I could do was nod. The rejection letter arrived three days later.
Learn something about your interviewer by looking around the room at pictures, diplomas and memorabilia. A common interest can enhance an interview.
Think positive, talk positive, be positive. Negative thoughts, words or attitudes have no place at an interview.
