One of the Funniest Things that Ever Happened to Me

One of the things that first became apparent to me in law school was the ability to parlay acceptance into one of the country's ABA Accredited Law Schools as a tool to get a date. In fact, that is one of the liberties taken by law students of the less-fair sex to meet chicks.

1L in a bar to Stunning Woman Out of his League: "Hi."

Stunning Woman Out of his League: "Fuck off!"

1L: "Can I buy you a drink?"

SWOL: "Fuck off!"

1L: "I am a lawyer. I work for the well-known firm of Doolittle & Scruem, LLP."

SWOL: "What kind of car do you drive?"

1L: Umm, a BMW?

SWOL: "Let's go back to my place and have sex."

Okay, so it might not be that easy, but still, it doesn't hurt to chum the waters by telling anyone who will listen that you are a lawyer. And having studied men for forty years (becuase I am one), I know that there is no depth to which a man might sink to get a beautiful woman to pay attention to him. That is one of the reasons that men become such exceptional lawyers. Except with lawyers, it's not the beautiful woman, but the judge, or the jury. This is why people loathe lawyers. I also note, at this juncture, that it seems to me that the best lawyers never tell anyone that they are lawyers. They let it come out in conversation.

Lawyer: "Hi."

Woman At Party: "Fuck off!"

Lawyer: "I am a lawyer."

WAP: "Let's go back to my place and have sex."

Notice how the lawyer, in this hypothetical conversation, avoids mentioning his profession. Notice the subtle use of the language that the lawyer has been trained to manipulate, to master. And most importantly, note how the lawyer never uses his profession to his advantage.

But, I digress.

I had graduated from law school, and was studying for the bar exam. Interestingly enough, the Bar Exam has nothing to do with bars, but that is a different post for a different day.

I am with a lovely young woman who is attracted to me because I am an attorney. Or, becuase I had taken the liberty mentioned supra.

We are having lunch, and things are going swimmingly. She looks at me adoringly, I gaze at her, in awe of her beauty. Then, things go spinning out of control when one of her friends walks up to our table and the aforementioned lovely says to her friend, "This is Rob, he is an attorney."

We pick up the dialogue mid-stream:

Me: "How are you, Heather." (Not her real name)

Heather: "I am fine."

Lovely: "Rob is an attorney."

Heather: "Do you like it?"

Me: "I love being a lawyer. It is a great profession that allows me to make money, get chicks and bill clients just for thinking about them while I am in the bathroom." (Actually, sentence number 2 is added here for hyperbolic effect.)

Heather walks away after a brief conversation, and the atmosphere has changed from warm to freezing cold. There is now an 800 pound elephant sitting at the table, and I am at a loss as to how to address the pachyderm.

Finally, after several icy minutes, Lovely says to me, and I am not making this up: "I'm mad at you. You lied to me."

Crap! How the hell did she find out that I hadn't yet taken the Bar Exam?

"Ummm," I say. "Lied about what?"

"You told me that you were an attorney, but you told Heather that you were a LAWYER! Which is it?"

So, I am off the hook, sort of. But this girl is just too damned dumb to go out with. It would be too easy, what with the fact that she was laboring through life with one cut of meat short of a mixed grill.

"Check, please!"

Some fifteen years later, members of my family that had met the young lady remind me of the story, telling it at the most inopportune of times.