My 1L job search is officially over, and I'll be in San Francisco this summer. This was completely unintended: I hear so much about how regional schools have limited reach in terms of employment, so I didn't think I could get a job somewhere I had no connection to. The best part about being there, though, is that my sister and I will finally be living in the same area -- if not in the same living quarters -- for the first time in many years. This is a treat for me because I've watched Gary and Brian's cute little snarky relationship, and I've always wished that my sister could live close by. Of course, she could have lived with me in Chicago if she hadn't purposely rejected NU for fear of being associated with her sister. But I'm not bitter.

It'll be fun but kinda weird too. She already invited me to happy hour with her friends, and I'm likely have to meet her male "friend." I inherited social awkwardness from my dad, so I don't know how ready I am for these situations.

Anyway, until my last interview, my interviewers had been generally laid-back with nice low-ball questions. Not yesterday.

Interviewer: So, what do you think the root of poverty is?

Me: (Huh? Root of poverty? What the? Why don't YOU tell me what the root of poverty is? Dang, that's a really good question. Shoot. Poverty, huh? The Man? No. Can't say that. They're trying to see if you can think logically and thoughtfully. Hurry. They're staring at you. Poverty. Hmmm. Shoot. Still staring at you. Hurry!) That's a really good question. Let me see ... [an embarrassing barrage of blah not fit for publication]... and that's what I think the root of poverty is?

Interviewer: Um, okay. Um, well. Given that, how should the public interest community strategize to fix this problem?

Me: (shoot shoot shoot) We should all work together. Yeah. That's it.

I'm smooth.