Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Lawyers Get Free Pizza

Overheard in the law building on the first day of classes:

--Where'd you park?

--Over by that building with the gold dome.

--You mean the Capitol building?

--Dude, we have a Capitol building?

--Not GSU. It's like for the state.


--What class've you got next?

--Wrongful Convictions.

--Man, isn't that sad?

--Yeah, I might drop.


In the basement floor of the law school building, all the classroom doors are wood-paneled. Gold bars function as doorknobs, and students reach and yank the doors back with the same motion as starting a lawnmower. They must be heavy. All the halls are carpeted, muffling the click and clack of young women's heels. The students are in what we used to call "church clothes," although for them I guess it would be "I might have a job in a law office someday" clothes. They're still learning, clearly. The patent leather pumps show scuff marks; one man's pair of faded khakis sports a broken belt loop in the back.

Why do they get pizza? The future of our legal set stands around in the lobby, greeting each other with faux-formal handshakes and comparing schedules. One haggard looking administrative type person carts in stacks of pizza boxes, sets them on a folding table. The legal set is learning to be served by a staff of ignorable underlings. The room reeks of projected confidence and pepperoni.

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