Maybe it's time I talked about clerkships.

When you graduate from law school, you have the opportunity to apply for a judicial clerkship in federal or state courts. Basically what this means is that you're an assistant to a judge: you read the cases that come in; research relevant precedent, statutes, legislative history, commentary, etc.; write a "bench memo" preparing the judge for the issues in the case; help him/her deliberate and decide the case; and write usually at least a draft of the final opinion. It's a big job, and frankly I think it puts way too much power in the hands of an entry-level worker fresh out of law school.

But it's really prestigious. It's practically a requirement if you want to teach at a half-decent law school. It's the kind of job that no matter what else I do, it will always stay on my resume and be one of the things mentioned about me when I give a speech somewhere when I'm 60.

That is, if I get it. I decided I wanted to do it largely because everyone else I've talked to who has done it says it's the most incredible intellectual experience of their life. I don't mind legal research, and I think the job would be fun. So I applied to 46 different federal judges in 8 different cities. My qualifications are medium (I go to Harvard, which is good, but my grades aren't amazing, which is bad. I won a legal writing contest, which is good, but I'm not on Law Review, which is bad). I didn't get any phone calls.

There was one judge in particular (who for now (and maybe forever) will remain nameless) who I was excited about working for, and thought I had a good chance with. So I called him. I spoke with one of his current clerks and asked if there's any way I could come out for an interview. After speaking with the judge, the clerk called me back and said OK. My begging scored me my only interview.

The interview process is far different from the firm interview process I went through last year. We fly to the judge's city at our own expense, often with a week or less of notice. We're on our own for accommodations. Everything is against us and for the judge. Rumor has it that many judges, after grilling you in an interview for however long they like, will make you an offer on the spot, and expect an answer before you leave the room. This is called an "exploding offer" and it's a cruel tactic if you ask me. By being forced to accept the first offer you get, you're not always going to get the job you most want. Judges and advisors counter that argument by saying that you shouldn't apply to any judges you're not willing to accept an offer from, but I say how on Earth are you to know if you want to work for a particular judge based on what you can learn from the file or the Internet or his published opinions? That's like asking the judge to decide whom to hire based solely on resumes, writing samples, and letters of recommendation, without an interview.

Fortunately, the judge I interviewed with does not believe in exploding offers. Unfortunately, he's taking his time in deciding who will get offers, so although I interviewed with him last Friday, I won't find out if I get the offer till late this week or next. It's no fun waiting, especially since this one judge is my only hope.

If I don't get the offer, I'll just take the job with the firm I worked for this summer and move back to DC. We'll be richer (clerkships are government jobs and they don't pay well, plus moving expenses and so forth are covered), and we'll be able to "settle down" and buy a house and think long-term. And that will be nice.

But I'm willing to postpone all that by a year for the excitement of living in a vibrant Western city I've never lived in, the intellectual challenge of a clerk's work, and the potentially open door of a teaching position someday (the mantra of my life: "Leave Doors Open, Even If You're Not Sure You Want To Go Through Them"). So I'm full of anxiety this week. I'll let you know how it turns out, and perhaps make some more insightful commentary on the process in the meantime.