Learning Curves Are for Losers

by William "P-Dawg" Astor IV

Quick question: What the hell?

I mean, no, seriously, what the hell is going on?

Barely a month ago, I decided to ditch my Big Law associate gig for sunnier pastures working in-house at a giant public company. Sure, Big Law pays more and I was a total rock-star associate at my firm-top biller in my class four years straight, Order of the Coif, and oh, I got wait-listed at Harvard ... TWICE. But I was ready for something new. I was sick of working dog hours for some kid-wizard CEO when I could go in-house and eventually be the kid-wizard CEO, you know?

ANYWAY, I landed a job in-house in, like, two minutes (duh: wait-listed, Harvard) at this supposed "dream" company, and I swear to Christ, everyone here has to be on freakin' drugs. Honestly. There's no other explanation. Because, I've never seen such a collection of moron lunatics with apparently zero ability to recognize a rock-star lawyer when one is practically sitting on their faces.

Take my first day. After three hours of BS orientation with some HR chick, I asked, "Hey, when do I get to meet my future ex-wife-I mean, my secretary?" (Ha!) The HR chick acted all offended and tells me that they're called "assistants." Whatever. A few hours later she takes me to meet my "assistant" and, seriously, I almost vomited all over myself because ... it was a dude. A dude. I mean, WTF, bro?? I don't want some dude assistant eyeing me up, trying to poison my coffee or whatever because he's jealous that I'm a wizard attorney who almost went to Harvard and he's a freakin' secretary. Disgusting. I refused to even acknowledge this loser's presence and immediately asked for a new secretary or, in the alternative, two female interns. Preferably single. And three weeks later, I'm still waiting.

And that was just the beginning. At the end of my first week, my department held its weekly status meeting. (NB: When you work in-house, there are status meetings about every four minutes, just to make sure that everyone knows what everyone else is working on. Why do I care what anyone else is working on?? Here's my status update: I'm a superstar. I rocked a 171 on the LSATs. I almost went to Harvard. Now back off and let me do my work.)

The head of my department asked me to introduce myself. So, I stood up and told the group that I know that, ahem, certain breeds of attorneys go in-house just so they can slack off, pop out babies, and still pretend to be real lawyers, but that's not how I roll. I'm in it to win it, just like I was at the firm. Sky's the limit. I told them all that I'm available for whatever work they can throw my way.

I expected everyone at the table to start nodding (smiling? clapping?) in admiration, but all I got back was a sea of blank faces and one multi-culti-type who just sort of twitched and mentioned that they would "go easy" on me at first because the "learning curve here is pretty steep." I had to cut her off and tell her that there's no such thing as a learning curve in my universe--hello, I almost went to Harvard. Learning curves are for losers. Is this a legal department or a spa? Hello?

Then finally, after a week, I got assigned a real project-drafting a license agreement with a senior counsel named Tamryn. No big deal. She said we needed to get the first draft out in about a week. I asked her if she was kidding. I mean, seven days? For one agreement?? I told her that, hello, at the firm we once launched and closed a $1.3 billion bond offering in three days. Granted, I didn't sleep, shower, or eat for 72 hours straight, and the first-year associate on the deal had an encephalitic seizure around hour number 55, but still, we got it done. I told Tamryn I'd have a draft for her first thing in the morning. She kept saying that was "totally unnecessary" and actually seemed uncomfortable the more I pressed the issue. Obviously, she was testing me--and if you haven't noticed, I eat tests for breakfast, bro.

So, I stayed up all night to finish the draft. I left it on her chair at 7 a.m., loaded up on some diet Red Bull, hit the company gym, and came back to wait for her call. I figured I'd have a gushing, Thank-You-for-Being-Such-a-Kick-Ass-Rock-Star e-mail in my in-box by, like, 9 a.m., max. But all day: nothing. I don't even think she got in to work until 10:30. Seriously, I was ready to walk into her boss's office and let loose a piece of my mind. I'm just trying to set a good example and inspire these in-house sheep to live up to my standards, but they not only fail miserably, they don't even thank me for trying. Hey, sheep: Did YOU have more deals under your belt than any other associate in your class? DID YOU ALMOST GO TO HARVARD??

In case you're wondering, I did confront Tamryn after not being appropriately thanked for my hard-core, awesome efforts on the license agreement. I walked into her office and she was in there talking with some smiling, cherub-looking woman. Turns out, the cherub was an assistant about to go on maternity leave and she had brought in cupcakes for everyone, or some idiotic thing. The cherub offered me one and I took it-and threw it in the trash in front of her. "Is this what we cherish here?" I asked. "Not 20-hour drafting marathons by rock-star wizard lawyers, but free baked goods from pregnant secretaries about to run off and play mommy on the company's dime?" Are you kidding me?

That was two weeks ago. Since then, Tamryn seems to be hiding, and the only face time I've had with my boss was during an urgent meeting I requested to propose that our department implement an internal billable hours structure. (I know, I know, there are no billable hours in-house--but, if there are no billables, how do you know who's the best? How do you separate the cherub-slacker losers from the rock stars? Who's in, who's out? Who's state school and who's, oh I don't know, on the wait list at Harvard??)

Anyway, that meeting ended after barely seven minutes when my boss claimed he had "an e-mail to return," and I haven't seen him since. Obviously, this sheep herder is intimidated and already worried about his job security now that I'm around. As he should be.

So, you can see my dilemma. When I got this gig, I thought it was going to be smooth sailing to the top in a sea of like-minded superstars--but with each passing day, all I find are more slacker-sheep treating me like I'm, I don't know, crazy or something. Crazy for what? Being better? Being sane? Being someone who almost went to Harvard?

Well then, yeah, I guess you could call me crazy. Hell, call me the King of Crazy. But just make sure to do it on your own time, because--in-house or not--this king has some hours to bill.

You're welcome.

William "P-Dawg" Astor IV is a pseudonym for a former associate at a large national law firm.

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