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.I'm not ready to be turnedloose upon society with the power to sue.Law school is nothing but three years of wasted stress.We spend countlesshours digging for information we'll never need.We are bombarded with lecturesthat are instantly forgotten.We memorize cases and statutes which will bereversed and amended tomorrow.If I'd spent fifty hours a week for the pastthree years training under a good lawyer, then I would be a good lawyer.Page 14ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlInstead, I'm a nervous third-year student afraid of the simplest of legalproblems and terrified of my impending bar exam.There is movement before me, and I glance up in time to see a chubby old fellawith a mas-sive hearing aid shuffling in my direction.TwoAN HOUR LATER, THE LANGUID BATTLES over Chinese checkers and gin rummy peterout, and the last of the geezers leaves the building.A janitor waits near thedoor as Smoot gathers us around him for a postgame summary.We take turnsbriefly summarizing our new clients'various problems.We're tired and anxious to leave this place.Smoot offers a few suggestions, nothing creative or original, and dismisses uswith the prom-ise that we will discuss these real legal problems of the elderly in classnext week.I can't wait.Booker and I leave in his car, an aged Pontiac too large to be stylish but inmuch better shape than my crumbling Toyota.Booker has two small children anda wife who teaches school part-time, so he's hovering somewhere just above thepoverty line.He studies hard and makes good grades, and because of this hecaught the attention of an affluent black firm downtown, a pretty classyoutfit known for its expertise in civil rights litigation.His starting salaryis forty thousand a year, which is six more than Brodnax and Speer offered me. I hate law school, I say as we leave the parking lot of the Cypress GardensSenior CitizensBuilding. You're normal, Booker replies.Booker does not hate anything or anybody, andeven at times claims to be challenged by the study of law. Why do we want to be lawyers? Serve the public, fight injustice, change society, you know, the usual.Don'tyou listen toProfessor Smoot? Let's go get a beer. It's not yet three o'clock, Rudy. Booker drinks little, and I drink evenless because it's an expensive habit and right now I must save to buy food.12 Just kidding, I say.He drives in the general direction of the law school.Today is Thursday, which means tomorrow I will be burdened with Sports Law andthe Napoleonic Code, two courses equally as worthless as Geezer Law andrequiring even less work.But there is a bar exam looming, and when I thinkabout it my hands tremble slightly.If I flunk the bar exam, those nice butstiff and unsmiling fellas at Brodnax and Speer will most certainly ask me toleave, which means I'll work for about a month then hit the streets.Flunkingthe bar exam is unthinkable -it would lead me to unemployment, bankruptcy,disgrace, starvation.So why do Ithink about it every hour of every day?  Just take me to the library, I say. I think I'll work on these cases, then hit the bar review. Good idea. I hate the library. Everyone hates the library, Rudy.It's designed to be hated.Its primarypurpose is to be hated by law students.You're just normal. Thanks. That first old lady, Miss Birdie, she got money? How'd you know? I thought I overheard something. Yeah.She's loaded.She needs a new will.She's neglected by her children andPage 15ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlgrandchil-dren, so, of course, she wants to cut them out. How much? Twenty million or so.Booker glances at me with a great deal of suspicion. That's what she says, I add. So who gets the money? A sexy TV preacher with his own Learjet. No. I swear.Booker chews on this for two blocks of heavy traffic. Look, Rudy, no offense,you're a great guy and all, good student, bright, but do you feel comfortabledrafting a will for an estate worth that much money? No.Do you? Of course not.So what'11 you do? Maybe she'll die in her sleep. I don't think so.She's too feisty.She'll outlive us. I'll dump it on Smoot.Maybe get one of the tax professors to help me.Ormaybe I'll just tellMiss Birdie that I can't help her, that she needs to pay a high-powered taxlawyer five grand to draft it.I really don't care.I've got my own problems. Texaco? Yeah.They're coming after me.My landlord too. I wish I could help, Booker says, and I know he means it.If he could sparethe money, he'd gladly loan it to me. I'll survive until July 1 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]