Boutique Appeal

Full-service law firms have not fared well under my evaluation regime (and perhaps because they can sense this, I have not fared well under theirs). The lawyers at 1L Summer Employer styled themselves trial specialists, the legal equivalents of Smokejumpers, parachuting into the middle of bet-the-company litigation at the very moment when things seemed to be completely out of control. I still think that's awesome, and need to work out a way to spend a few weeks with them back in SF.

But I want to try a stretch back home in San Diego, and spend most of my interview time searching down there. I met a lot of people I'd enjoy working with. But these decisions aren't made entirely rationally, and a series of coincidences over the last few days has convinced me the I know where I belong. I am, I have been reminded, a big geek. I should really do IP.

It came to me the other day. A friend had just posted pictures of my Aquaman costume on facebook. I had just finished setting the port mapping on my wireless router so I could host a wiki for the drama club. I took ab reak by watching Battlestar Galactica. And then I got a package from IP Boutique. The one whose Big Rockstar Partner had a giant poster of the USS Enterpirse in his offce. The goodies were nice, but the real tipping point was this handwritten note. Less for what it says than for the penmanship. That cramped, rushed style - the mark of a writer more concerned about the information conveyed than niceties about how it gets there. It looks just like mine.