Now, You Wait: Things To Do After the Bar Exam

Good morning (or afternoon, or evening, or even sometime three years from now when you locate this site through googling something like “Car Sex and the law”) folks and welcome back to another glorious Monday morning here on Lawyers & Liquor.  I’m your asshole host, the Boozy Barrister, and I wanted to start off today by give a shout out to all of the Patreon Patrons that are out there for the site.  What better way to do that than to give you the link to the list of Patreon Supporters for the site, which will be updated later tonight to include every single person that gives any amount of money to Lawyers & Liquor, and will be a part of every single unsponsored post on the site (and, if I can get it together with the sole sponsor who pays for space, on the sponsored Furry Friday Posts as well).

Thank you folks!  We’ll be updating the list tonight and tomorrow to make sure all of you are on that list, and after that it’ll be maintained going forward by the best assistant I could ask for: someone other than me!

Now that the schmaltz is out of the way and I’ve somewhat weakly implied how much I love you folks for giving me money to write this shit, let’s direct this directly to the young wanna-be lawyers out there that spent a portion of last month suffering through the bar exam.  As you may know, last month the poor bastards that sacrificed their lives and sanity to the law when they decided, like the true fuckwits they are, to wander into a law school in their big boy pants and scream “I wanna be a lawyer!” took the one exam that decides whether or not they wasted three years of their lives instead of just making bad decisions.  That test is over, it’s done with, and they (for the most part we assume) survived it in something close to one physical and mental piece.  At least, outside of a leaky ceiling out in Colorado that paused the examination while they got it sorted out, I haven’t heard or read of any major issues outside of the general collection of anxiety attacks.  Which are normal.

And they’re going to keep going, because, historically, you little shitstains have at least two months of wondering if your bright new career in the practice of law can begin or if you’re going to wind  up curled in a ball in the shower clutching a Kaplan coursebook and sobbing uncontrollably as you talk about the Dead Man’s Statute.

…Why don’t we try to give you some things you can do while you’re waiting, eh?  So, without ado, here are Boozy’s Four Tips for Post-Bar Exam Sanity!

Completely Reevaluate Your Life.

Look, we all know you made some severe wrong turns to end up at this place.  Somewhere, deep in your mind and soul, you were convinced that you wanted to be a lawyer.  You then went to law school and, like a bright-eyed optimistic child having their thirst for knowledge progressively beaten out of them in the public school system, lost that desire.  Hell, you even became a little bent, didn’t you?  At some point you found yourself sacrificing those lofty-ass ideals of “Truth, Justice, and Being an International Basket Weaving Rights Space Attorney” in order to scramble for a summer job or a place on law review, didn’t you? Somewhere along the way your focus went from protecting the helpless to seeing if you can squeeze out a Brooks Brothers suit from your student loan overages, didn’t it?

There’s no fucking shame in that.  It happens to us all.  But you know what? Now you have at least two months to sit around and think about the important things like “Why did I want to be a lawyer” and “Do I really want to be a lawyer?” Shit, you may even find that, now that the whole Stockholm Syndrome part of law school and the exam is over and you have a chance to breath, you really aren’t that fucking interested in the practice of law anymore.  If you aren’t fucking great.  You’re getting out before the world can show you that it’s a cruel place filled with cruel people and that you, sir, are nothing more than a cog in a great machine of grinding people into cornmeal for my morning breakfast.  Maybe you’ve decided that instead of representing the International Spacefaring Basketweavers, you want to become the Zero G Longaberger Baron yourself!

While you’re in law school, it’s hard to think about anything except being an attorney unless those thoughts catch you early, before you’ve sunk so much goddamn money into the pursuit that those thoughts seem treacherous and ridiculous.  Then you’re studying mindlessly for the fucking exam, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.  And for many of you little shitstains, this has been your entire life since college.  So many of you were Pre-K to J.D. without so much as a shitty gas station job selling glass roses to a crackhead named Terrance in between that you have no fucking clue if you actually want to engage in the practice of law.  Now is your fucking chance, though.  You have a couple months to breath, avoid the fuck out of other wannabe lawyers, and determine if you still want to join the rest of us in the lower levels of legal hell or not.  Maybe you’d rather be a teacher!  Or just a crackhead named Terrance with a massive glass rose collection.  Who knows, but the point is now you have the chance to decide!  Take advantage of it!

Avoid Other Wannabe Lawyers.

This isn’t the fucking VFW.  There was no great bonding experience with the others that suffered through this shit with you that makes it necessary to go and hang out with the motherfuckers that you went to law school with.  The “law school” subreddit is not such an interesting place that you need to frequent it daily anymore.  You need to get the fuck away from other people that are waiting on their bar exam results and start reintegrating your ass back into polite society where a severely injured minor isn’t referred to as a “tort goldmine.’

Look, if you pass then you’ll end up spending an entire fucking career surrounded by other lawyers.  That’s how it is.  Most of your fucking friends will be lawyers.  You will rapidly get sick of having dick measuring competitions with male and female attorneys alike.  Your every waking moment will be a mess of legal jargon, and unlike in law school where that shit was done because you wanted to show off how big and throbbing your intellectual genitals were compared to others, here it’ll be because you’re so goddamn boring that nobody else wants to hang out with your ass.  There is literally no need to talk to these pricks now, as you wait for the most strenuous two month period of your fucking life.

Plus, and this is important, some fucking prick will want to talk about the goddamn exam.  Because there’s always one shit who wants to relive that shit and revel in the assumption that you got some answer wrong.  It’s how the fucking game is played, and it fucking sucks, but it’ll happen.  You don’t need to deal with that guy.  Nobody needs to deal with that guy. That guy’s a prick.

Don’t Start Studying For The Next Exam.

Guys, unless you completely lost your shit during the exam, there is next to no reason to start worrying that you need to retake the exam now.  First, that shit is not refundable.  Second, if you scribbled literally anything down on paper during the exam there’s a pretty good chance you shouldn’t be panicking too goddamn much yet.  So unless you pulled a Rimmer and wrote “I am a fish” 400 times on the exam sheet, you’re being more permature than a backseat virgin on prom night in registering for shit already.

Instead, you need to…

Just Take a Drink and Sit Back.

The best thing you can do for yourself is to take a break from the bustle of being a bastard for a bit.  Sit down.  Order a goddamn drink that doesn’t come in a tinted glass bottle.  Sip the finest of the canned champagnes and enjoy only the rarest of Walmart brand caviar as you await your entry or denial into the bar.  The fact is, you either screwed the pooch harder than a zoophile with unrestricted pound access or you didn’t.  You’ll either be admitted to the fucking bar or you won’t.  Ain’t a goddamn thing you can do about it now, so you might as well not worry about it.

Just take a deep breath, pour a shot, and let the indefiniteness of definite knowledge that the whole goddamn thing is out of your hands relax you into realizing that no matter what the outcome is, your life is not yet over.