I was recently invited back to Georgetown Law to participate in a panel for incoming LL.M. students. Like every responsible event right now, this panel was held virtually.
The theme was how LL.M. students can best navigate this (not so new) virtual environment for job-hunting purposes.
I started 2018 feeling ridiculous — I just finished the first semester of my Georgetown tax LL.M. program but did not have any grades yet. I was unsure if I would fail my classes or ever get a decent job. Maybe this Washington D.C. adventure was a mistake.
Things quickly got better. Instead of failing, my grades were actually strong. Job offers came in, spring semester’s grades were even better than the fall, and I started working immediately after graduation.
I moved from Pentagon City to Chinatown, and got rid of my car. Everything fell into place and I became a proper Washingtonian.
I had marathon meetings with our division’s biggest client. This was the culmination of a lengty, often painful, process that involved senior directors and VPs from across the company.
For weeks my life consisted of accommodating “stakeholders”/cooks with competing interests, resulting in way too many spreadsheets and draft contracts.
Mitchell and I are not renewing the lease for our Lowertown apartment. He may purchase a house closer to his job, and my boss approved an out-of-state move for me.
He’s keeping Hugo, and I’m taking Gunter.
Gunter the Chiweenie, who is thrilled that it is no longer freezing in Minnesota.
My company specifically cleared me to move to California because we have offices in the San Francisco Bay Area and Southern California. I also have a lot of clients in both places.
Both San Francisco and Los Angeles seem insanely expensive. Do I overpay for a closet-apartment in a trendy area, or banish myself to the suburbs?
I’ll likely have to sign a lease based on pictures – what if I end up with another nightmare building? Will I end up in a terrible situation and wish that I kept my Minnesota lifestyle?
Among the newsletters and freelance cattle calls was an email from NYU Law School’s Tax LLM program.
It contained a fee voucher.
I was shocked and flattered – tax law was my passion during law school, and NYU’s LLM program is consistently ranked #1 in the country.
A Master of Laws (LLM) degree is a post-law school master’s degree. Tax is one of the few LLM specialties not considered an utter waste of time.
I immediately filled out the LSAC application and strategized how to get recommendation letters from law professors who have long forgotten who I am.
After my initial wave of enthusiasm, I remembered the fraudulent employment stats and starting salaries published by law schools. I also remembered how angry everyone was 2L year when we realized that our school lied to us about our prospects.
After some research into the value of tax LLM programs, I realized that there’s simply not enough reliable information available for me to make an informed decision regarding the purported benefits of an LLM.
Cal Newport is one of my favorite bloggers. A mathematics professor by trade, Newport is better known for his tips on studying, productivity, and careers.
After regularly reading his blog for a year, I decided to buy his book “So Good They Can’t Ignore You.” I was intrigued by the premise: if you want a great career, don’t worry about following your passion.
Newport’s book was an excellent companion piece to Steven Pressfield’s “The War of Art.” Pressfield focused primarily on overcoming self-sabotage and focusing on your work. Newport describes how to turn your work and skills into a great career.
The most provocative rule in Newport’s book is “Don’t Follow Your Passion.” Newport systematically debunks the underlying premise of most career advice books – something he calls the passion hypothesis:
“The passion hypothesis claims that the key to occupational happiness is to first figure out what you’re passionate about and then find a job that matches this passion.”
Newport argues that approaching your work from a “passion mindset” is wrongheaded because your focus is primarily on the value your job is offering you. A focus on pursuing your passion “ultimately leads to chronic dissatisfaction and daydreaming about the better jobs you imagine existing out there waiting to be discovered.”
I only made one formal resolution this year:
Since my last promotion, I have been in the office well before 7 a.m. almost every morning.
The first group of people is staying in the bar scene and going out as usual. The second group is getting into serious relationships, buying houses, and exchanging the tequila shots for Home Depot charge cards.
I’m part of the third (and smallest) subset – doubling-down at work, scoping out MBA programs, and plotting the next promotion. There’s a new satisfaction in my work since I was promoted six months ago, and things are going well.
Dating has grown awkward. I’m attracting college seniors and guys who have kids older than I am.
The upshot of my arid dating life is that I have far fewer distractions from work. I’m actually too busy to worry about finding a relationship – that’s a crisis for 36, not 26.
Last week I decided to stop wasting my time.
I quit a clerkship, dropped a pair of toxic “friends” and told the boyfriend that I not getting any younger, these ankles are swelling, and it is time to finalize our adoption and mortgage plans…
Well, maybe not that last part, (That is for this week!) but I have realized that this blog is one of the things that is wasting my time.
This blog is supposed to be a journal and a time saver. It is neither.