Tuesday, October 17, 2006


Recruit THIS.

Not two weeks into life at The Firm, I was asked by the Chair of The Diversity Committee to attend a getting-to-know-and-hire-you dinner at a swank DC hotspot. And by that I mean, one of the two restaurants still in business that was a swank DC hotspot back when the folks running the place were shimmying to Donna Summer. Which, come to think of it, is what I was doing Saturday night at exactly this time . . . .

In order to fulfill the obligation to bring a gay presence to the dinner, I wore a white shirt and bright blue tie under gray pinstripes, accented by wire-rimmed glasses and a pair of spit-polished Allen Edmonds. Because conservative is the new flamboyant.

My implicit objective that evening was to pick out the gays among the fresh blood, convince them that Yes, The Firm welcomes diversity, then, over the course of the evening, get sufficiently drunk to make all the offerees uncomfortable, like so many pages in Mark Foley's brownstone.


That last paragraph included an instance of something I like to call "foreshadowing," in that it foreshadowed what I'm about to relate. The evening can be summarized in exactly twelve facts: (1) I drank before dinner; (2) I drank at dinner; (3) I drank after dinner; (4) a Senior Partner suggested to me at one point that I might like to drink some water; (5) I politely refused; (6) I picked out one of the gay offerees; (7) I was wrong about him; (8) I picked out another one; (9) I was right about him; (10) he was far less attractive the next morning; (11) so was I; (12) he's decided to go to a different firm.

Listen, they're the ones who wanted diversity, not me. I just wanted a job. And if they expect me to go out and cheerlead for The Firm, well, they shouldn't be surprised if I try to take home the star football player after the big game.


Oh yeah, and I billed 56 hours last week.


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