The Compleat Guide to how not to Choose a Career

[gurdonark]

I put this together back in May, but couldn't make it fit in the LJ space. Let's see if I can edit better now, as this is the great Icelandic saga of how I became a lawyer.

In 1981, I had just finished my degree in physics with a minor in English. I was perhaps the least capable science and math person ever to gain a degree in physics. I did not do much interviewing before I graduated, but I remember a Levis jeans factory in Oklahoma which asked me, inappropriately, if I believed in labor unions...when I failed to say "no", I was "dinged" from consideration. The general economy was horrendous, and I lived in Arkansas, which is rarely a robust economy in the best of times. At least in Arkansas, we say we never have depression, because the Great Depression never ended.

My father had been a country doctor, which I had been "raised" to be, but my GPA was 3.02 when medical school required a 3.7 and a high admissions board test result. I had taken courses in English because I realized that I was so hopeless at geology, my original choice for a minor, and quite good at literature.

I finished after 7 semesters, which was a semester early. I had no job prospects, no real educational strength, and a real uncertainty on what I wished to do. I had taken the law school admission test, largely on a whim, and done well on it, but I considered law "politically incorrect", too tied up in the things about the way things worked that I did not like. I moved to my parents' home, jobless, directionless, and entirely certain I was without skills.

I sent out resumes, and obtained some interviews. I got an offer to be a newspaper reporter, but the job paid unskilled wages. I just missed a job as a safety engineer--the interviewer asked me did I like to read, and I said I liked science fiction and Doris Lessing....he told the recruiter who had sent me for the interview that I was "too technical", which caused my mother and I to break up in hysterical laughter...you see, I had never been technical enough to achieve any of the things I had been raised to believe were worth being.

I spent my spare time writing poetry, masses of poetry. I had done some writing before, but now I wished to write and write. I got interviews with other companies, but nothing really gelled. Some of my poems were submitted to magazines, and amidst dozens upon dozens of rejections came a few kind rejection notes, and a few actual acceptances for publication. Still, I was jobless, dependent on my parents and totally unsure of what to do.

Finally, my father told me that he thought I should go to law school, but that I had missed the application deadline. Enraged, I told him that I still had time, if I wanted to go. I applied to two law schools in my rural state, and got in both. I also got in a technical writing program at Boston University. That tech writing program was very prestigious, but very expensive. My parents had helped me with school--I could not impose. Finally, I moved to the town where the more likely of the two law schools was located. I was to go to law school, but the decision did not sit well with me. Through a temp agency, I took a job shovelling coal flyash at a power plant. Flyash is what is left when everything is burned away...that was me...burned away. I was a mask and goggles and a shovel and endless weariness.

I quit that job after oversleeping one day. It was an ungracious way to quit...I still remember writing the apology note to the temp agency after the manager there humiliated me when I brought back my helmet.

I took two summer school courses...one in Shakespeare, one in Cobol computer programming language. I had an A in the Shakespeare course...I made an F in the computer class. Cobol is a moronically simple business computer language. I had built a computer in my bachelor's program. I simply lacked the attention and discipline to pass the course...the fatal error was not dropping the course when I had lifted my grade sufficiently to drop without penalty.

I was at rock bottom. I felt like an idiot. I lacked the math skills to get into "real" physics. Case Western called me to ask me to apply to do a master's there. They were desperate for native speakers of English, since only foreign students did grad work in physics then, and they wanted more fluent lab instructors. But I had barely gotten through my Calculus III course, and could not imagine advanced thermodynamics.

I did not cry often as a young adult, but I remember being on the telephone with my mom, crying away about how badly I felt. I was going to law school, but I could not even pass simple cobol. I was good at English, but an English master's might well mean no job.

Still and all, I wanted to think of a change. I got in my car, and drove hundreds of miles from Arkansas across the State of Texas, trying to see if I could get an assistantship to study English. I would be a technical writer if I got the degree. A school in east Texas offered me one outright. One in Dallas said probably, and one in north Texas said probably, though the prof said he'd rather go to law school.

Now I had choices in hand--law, which would be tough but career oriented....English, which was my strength but might not be very vocational. I told my parents that I would make the decision on Monday, but I did not wish to talk about it the entire weekend.

My father is a country doctor who grew up in a rural area and whose Arkansas accent is thick and pleasant. He has always been one of those men whose concerns for his children makes him over-protective, anxious, and yet almost sardonic in his expressions of belief that his children will go astray. By Saturday night, he was unable to contain himself.

"Bob", he said, pulling a Dutch Masters cigar from his mouth, "I know you said I'm not supposed to ask you about whether you're going to choose law or English, and I'm not goin' to ask you that, but can I ask you which way you're LEANING?".

Putting on my best self-righteous voice, I said "Yes, Dad, you aren't supposed to ask me, because I said I'd decide on Monday. But since you ask, I'll tell you I'm leaning towards grad work in English".

My father clapped his hands with glee. "Told ya!" he said to my mother, "You owe me fifty dollars!". Then the ugly truth came out. My parents had wagered on the outcome of my decision. My father had bet that his son would disappoint him by choosing English. My mother had bet on law.
This made my life much easier. My choice was now clear. My father must lose his bet.

I decided to go to law school in Little Rock, Arkansas. I resolved that it would take as much as I had intellectually. I recognized that I would be lucky to pass. But unwise and unready as I felt, that would be my choice.

When I got to law school, it was something I loved. I worked so hard, because the other kids were all much brighter than I was. They all had 4.0s from the local colleges. I had done fine in the liberal arts, but any course with any challenge had proven me mediocre.

I had a 3.02 with a recent F in a sophomore level computer course. I took assiduous notes. I prepared my case outlines in advance. I typed my notes at night. I put all my focus on my courses.

I did not care if I was top or great or wonderful. I merely wanted to make my Cs and get my degree. I wanted just to survive.

When the first law exam was over that December, I was exhausted. I told my parents that if I had not passed that one (a Contracts final), I did not belong in school. I knew that I had given it all that I had. By the fourth exam, a Civil Procedure exam, I was exhausted. I had a minor fender bender when I ran in front of a car in my car.

Weeks later, the grades were posted. I had all As and one B+, a 3.96 out of 4 average. I had been awarded prizes for top papers in two classes. I was placed on the school's law journal after one semester, a rare event. It's not that I had genius....my IQ tests only about 125. It's not that I had a clear direction in life...I literally had gone to law school so that dad would lose a bet. I graduated in the top few percentile of my class, and my law journal article got a few nice reprints. Yet my "genius" had caused me to stumble into law school almost by accident.

I see so many articles and radio spots and career counselor things in which someone says "It's easy" or "you know exactly how it happens" or "there's one true way to do it", or, somewhat insidiously, "do what you want and it always comes out okay", but my own experience is that whimsy, hard work, and merely playing one's hand as well as one can is a large part of surviving in this odd career world, too.

Comments

[marstokyo.livejournal.com]

All's well that ends well, old pal! :-)

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

So far, so good :). But I'm still puzzling over whether this is my one and only career, or if I have some immense new career still ahead :)

[burninggirl.livejournal.com]

I recognise this story. : ) And it's still a great read the second time around.

[uscwriter.livejournal.com]

Isn't it amazing how we fall into things?

I taught high school English until we moved to Tennessee. I was so disgusted with the education system that I chose not to go back into that field, which is what I had studied for in college. For three months I worked in real estate law as a clerk, continuing to see an ad in the local paper for a reporter in my small town. I did not apply, mostly because of the money. However, the ad ran in the Tennessean and I applied finally, figuring I could save the difference in pay by not commuting. I bargained with the editor to give me the top dollar he could ($8 an hour!) and he hired me. That was the career I was meant for...

I saved the ad from the Tennessean and hung it on my bulliten board. Now that I stay home, I miss the reporting, but I figure that something else must be coming along, or things would not have fallen into place the way they did when we chose to move here. I just wish they would hurry up.

PS- Reporters still make squat. I left, as the highest paid reporter at that paper, at $11.01 an hour.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you like it! Thanks for commenting.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I always thought being a reporter would be fun. They don't make all that much, though, particularly in the south. I have a sort of step cousin who does the magazine free lance game in addition to mag staffing and it seems to work out for him, plus he gets to meet sherpas and the like.

Your journalism time shows in the solid, high quality of your writing. But what will your novel be about?

[gregwest98.livejournal.com]

It saddens me somewhat to realize that I knew very little of this. That was when I had met M., fallen in love, gotten rejected from medical school, gotten married, and moved to a new city but one might still have thought I'd reserve a little thought as to what my friends were doing.

My memory only contains the isolated facts that you graduated, entered law school (in a move that flumoxed all of us that remainded at the university), and did extremely well.

I remember that while I was publicly humiliating myself displaying just exactly how much physics I had *not* learned, you were buying a house.

My apologies for being even more self-centered than I thought I was. You are still an icon of overachievement at my house.

Re:

[marstokyo.livejournal.com]

I laughed when you mentioned the newspaper reporter being paid unskilled wages. Ain't THAT the truth. Ditto for graphic designers. :-(

[asphalteden.livejournal.com]

Wow, if only I had thought so deeply about my future when in college; perhaps my life would have been very different.

You had the option to be so many things. I don't think many people qualify for that much variety, if you ask me.
I myself majored in Creative Writing, because I knew not what else to do. I got into the business I'm in because I knew not what else to do (and 'cause I got lucky).

It seems I didn't consider very much at all in college.

It seems so much in life depends on one's level of commitment.

Re:

[uscwriter.livejournal.com]

Wellll...I have one started that's a mystery series. It is based on a pair of unmarried sisters in their late 40s (charactered after my husband's aunts) who find themselves involved in murders in a small NC town (sort of based on the one we live in now and the one we will move to- a combination). In the first one, a town councilman is poisoned during the local barbecue festival, related to his refusal to sell or relinquish his land to the city for expansion of the industrial park.

Another I've started is based on the 1000 journals project and is called "The Waffle House Odyssey."

I want to write one with a character resembling the woman in "Ophelia" by Natalie Merchant. It would be time-travel, and I can't quite figure it out yet.

See, I have lots of ideas. Now I need to get the gumption to put them in action.

I'm tired just thinking about it.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

Yes. I sometimes think that the main thing anyone can teach a child with feeling is thrift. So many of the cool jobs just don't pay. It still would be fun to be a journalist, though!

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I think commitment does matter. I don't think that work for work's sake matters that much--I know a lot of folks who think 'if I just work hard enough, I'll get ahead', and then never do. I think that working hard to play the cards one has as best as they may be played...that may be the ticket!

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

Ever since the time I was 19, you've always been flawlessly observant, kind and caring, so you do not have a thing in the world to worry about. I did not know if you would remember what an odd thing it was for my friends to imagine me in law school. I guess I learned from the experience of law school, against which I was so prejudiced when I began and so enthusiastic by the end, that the preconceptions one learns in high school and college about things sometimes need to be re-evaluated. In the circles in which I ran, it was imagined, particularly by those of us who fancied ourselves mildly pink, that one could hold oneself above the fray. Life taught me that the fray comes looking for you, no matter what you do.

Thanks for such a kind comment.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I love to write, and largely write poems so that I can finish them! But I've found that unlike most things in life, the destionation, i.e., finished product, may be as important as the travel, i.e., the process.

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

Hey, on second thought, how could your life be better? You do cool stuff!

If you want to go to law school, just e mail me :)

Re:

[marstokyo.livejournal.com]

I don't think my husband would agree with that at the moment. His life is being made hell by his Bitch Editor from Hell (BEH)

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I don't know which is worse..being an employee, or being a boss. I always hated both roles. I am a sorta boss now, but I like much better just being Gurdonark.

I had some bosses, let me tell you. My best wishes for your husband's situation!