In 1997 I lived in San Antonio, Texas for one year. Fresh from New Mexico State University with two degrees (Biochemistry and English) and university honors and tangible working experience as a tutor, a lab tech, and a slinger of electronic media.
UN-gainfully UNemployed. UNcertain what the heck I was going to do with my life. UNderstandably worried. Partner was responsible for our location, and thankfully he was employed. New schoolteachers in Texas then and now do not get paid very well, though, so there was a certain pressure for me to unseat all of those UNs.
I spent a lot of time with the classified section of the Express-News. I put out applications for just about everything that was even remotely related to my training and experience and a great deal that was not. I was hoping to do better than bagging groceries or checking out videos, but was willing to do almost anything that would get a little positive cash-flow going.
One day I got a call from a law office. This was the sort of law firm that is named after only one person and advertises on the back of the metropolitan phone books of several cities in Texas. Those ads featured a cowboy hat and boots, and their TV commercials were filled with folksy truisms, a bushy mustache, and a drawl. I remembered applying to this firm. They were hiring for several different positions, and I was hoping only to be considered for an intake receptionist. After all, I had NO legal training of any kind.
Color me surprised then when they wanted to interview me for a different position. A New position within the firm. A Very Important position. And yes, they believed I had the perfect qualifications. I’d like to say I was cynical, but I was so glad to get a bite for a job and so flattered by the charming voice on the phone that I didn’t blink when he said he wanted to talk to me about being their new Ethics Officer.
Let that sink in a minute.
I was completely terrified and had nothing appropriate to wear. Almost nothing. I ended up wearing a shirt and tie with these cheap, sort of dressy, sort of feminine suspendered slacks, and heels. Everything was brownish. I was sure I’d fall down with every step. I thought I’d throw up in the car on the way there.
My interview consisted of thirty-seconds of hateful scrutiny by a receptionist, a ten-minute chat with the venerable proprietor, and five minutes with each of his lawyers. I had expected to be interviewed by an office manager or something, and was really surprised to be interviewed by the boss. Mr. Lawyer, esquire, wore a necktie and suspenders and heavy cufflinks. His suit jacket and cowboy hat hung on a rack next to his office door. I can’t remember a single thing about that interview except that I was intimidated and nervous and sure that I’d fall down when he led me on a tour of the office. I remember thinking that MY suspenders were stupid compared to HIS suspenders.
The other two or three lawyers were mostly unmemorable except that none of them seemed too sure what sort of questions they were supposed to ask me or what I would be doing. They were all white men over forty-five. All of the staff that I met were hispanic women under thirty. One lawyer was a retired Navy JAG so freshly installed in the office that half of his law books were still in boxes and his razor haircut was still fresh. He looked uncomfortable there.
On the trip home the adrenaline rush and fear started to fade into headachy fatigue, and my skepticism and cynicism woke up. Part of me hoped that they would pay me a lot of money. Part of me knew that I would have no idea what I was doing in that job. I had no background in philosophy or ethics or the law. I didn’t even think I was particularly old enough or wise enough to offer any kind of credible advice about anything morally questionable. That part of me knew I’d be nothing but a rubber stamp for that slick dude. A young woman, easily ignored or patronized by the boss. In that office, I suspected, an Ethics Officer was merely an empty rhetorical device to flash at critics of the morals of that style of law practice.
Still, I thought, it was a job. I could probably overcome my moral compunctions for a job that didn’t involve videos or grease or even a name tag, right?
They called me the next morning with the job offer. I declined before the phone call ended. I think he was surprised, which gave me a thrill. I eventually found a job in a souvenir gift shop, making almost no money at all, and went off to grad school the next year. You’d think I’d be remorseful about passing up that job in that law office. That it was a Good Opportunity, right?
I’ve regretted a few missed opportunities in my life, but missing out on being an Ethics Officer will never be one of them.
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Friday, January 14, 2011 at 9:11AM ;)
A grapefruit, recently of the tree in my back yard. The dirt washes away.;)
Mmm, brains. Oh wait. No, that’s grapefruit too. Recently eviscerated from its peel.;)
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