“To think that that woman is my ticket anywhere, let alone someplace like the ACLU, is astounding. But whatever, I’ll take what I can get.”

The judge’s screams were closing in on us, giving me the shakes. I wasn’t prepared for this interview. In fact, wobbling in my nude hose and pumps, it wasn’t clear I was prepared to interact with any segment of normal society.

“Hey, I got to go. Good luck with that”—I nodded toward the torture chamber—“you know that Bob is about to bite it and she’s going to be a mess when she finally tears out of here.”

Calling someone else a mess at that point, even the judge, seemed a bit glass-houseish.

The interview went swimmingly. That is, if you count out-and-out lying to be a positive thing. I met with three different attorneys. First up—Lexi from Immigrants’ Rights.

“So, Sheila, that’s amazing. A court of appeals clerkship—and it’s with Judge Friedman. Amazing. Tell me about it.” Amazing wasn’t the first (or last or middle) word that came to mind, but I found myself smiling and nodding.

“Yeah, it is really good. I mean, you know, it can be tough sometimes,” I said. Lexi grimaced. “But really really good. Yes, amazing.” Lexi looked relieved. Next—Alberto in National Security.

“Hey, great to meet you, Sheila. We’re so excited to have you here. And, wow! Helga Friedman. I’ve always had so much respect for her. I know everyone else has been blabbing about her Dell Nelson opinion, which is great for sure. But I’ve been particularly interested in her recent Patriot Act opinion—she’s brilliant!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d rather unpatriotically slept through oral arguments in that case and that her subpar, pregnant law clerk had written the opinion from start to finish.

“Yeah, she’s brilliant for sure. And that case was really interesting. You should have been to orals—the justice department’s lawyer crumbled early on . . . amazing.” The crevice in my bum from which I extracted that one didn’t matter. What did matter was Alberto’s unencumbered glee.

“Sheila, so glad you’ve had such a great year so far. You know—some folks get upset that we rarely hire people who haven’t clerked, but you understand why that is now, don’t you? One year working for a judge—especially a federal court of appeals judge—is like six years doing litigation at a law firm, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh, I totally agree!” I nodded emphatically as Alberto walked me to Racial Justice Natasha. “The experience has been invaluable.”

“Come in, please. Sorry it’s such a mess. Have a seat,” Natasha said, sweeping a chair clear of briefs. “So, Sheila, how are you? How’s Judge Friedman?”