Bradley Berlich '27
Staff Editor
This past Tuesday, September 24, the Office of Private Practice (“OPP”) hosted one of two sessions entitled “Introduction to Employer Interactions.” The session was intended to help law students, a group not always renowned for their social fluidity, gain exposure to normal, professional, basic, human interactions. One might think, given the attendees’ status as students at a good law school, they would possess enough social ability or tact to engage in networking, or “making work friends.” However, you would be wrong. The question is not one of quality, but quantity. The manners at hand are simple yet numerous. A violation of even a single one can put your networkee in a foul mood.
“Remember the attorney’s name,” was one helpful piece of advice given by an anonymized member of OPP, referred to here as “OPP 1,” and accompanied by OPPs 2, 3, and 4. According to OPP 1, one could scarcely believe the amount of grief referring to an attorney by the wrong name causes. All sorts of adverse reactions, like un-responded-to emails, scowling in the hallways, and a lack of return offer can result from this one simple error.
“Remember the attorney’s name” was followed by its close corollary, knowing your own name, an especially important step to the method of greeting that OPP 1 described as “the handshake.” The handshake is a deceptively simple tactic, whereupon meeting someone, you take their hand in yours and shake it. But the speed, timing, and strength with which you shake are crucial. Step one is to look at the other party and make sure that they would indeed like to participate in the shaking of hands. Follow their lead. If they extend their hand, grasp it. If they do not extend their hand, do not, in a manic fit suggesting some type of aneurysm-induced spasm or a simple lapse of judgment, reach forward and take their hand in yours.
Once it is established that the attorney intends to shake hands, the actual shake should be conducted with a firm grip, fingers “web to web,” with medium vicariousness, and a range of motion confined to one to one-and-a-half inches from the initial center of handshake mass. “Do you see this hand,” said OPP 1, holding up their left hand. “This hand never gets involved.” Attendees nodded solemnly. Some scribbled furiously in notepads. “None of this,” said OPP 1, reaching around to pat or hit OPP 2, with whom they were demonstrating the handshake, on the back. Then comes the tricky part: knowing and reciting your own name. This is “your line,” and it’s good practice to know it, and rehearse it ahead of time. In a mirror if you must.
The presentation then turned to the topic of food and drink. Unsurprisingly, it is unbecoming for young professionals to wander around ballrooms clutching two trays of hors d’oeuvres, limbs slathered in barbeque sauce. Rather food should be taken, eaten, and napkins and toothpicks disposed of quickly, preferably the whole arrangement being done out of sight of an attorney. As for the alcohol, many law firm events will feature guest appearances by a veritable jazz quartet of potent potables. But, cried OPP 1, as if Hatchet Granny upon her soap box, the prudent law student should stop imbibing at least one drink before it looks like they’ve drunk anything at all. Visible intoxication is terrible form. Invisible intoxication, however, a tradition as timeless and stately as the corner office pop-up bar, is totally fine.
Next, OPP addressed attire. Clothing, and appropriate clothing at that, is mandatory at all networking events. The ideal student should be dressed conservatively. Suits should be dark, either navy or gray. Blouses and jackets could be permitted a splash, perhaps no more than a speckle, of color. Socks, ties, and jewelry should be “normal,” and should not contain occult symbols, risqué jokes, or general novelty. Heels should err on the low end. But though you should be well dressed, you ought not be “richly” dressed. In fact, “the hungrier you look, the better,” said OPP 1. Hiring teams at Biglaw firms appear to want someone who looks like they need the job for the money and will work like it too. So, leave any custom tailoring in the closet. No comment on whether smearing soot on yourself like a Dickensian orphan will yield even greater results, but there’s only one way to find out.
And, if the worst should come to pass, counseled OPP 3, and you happen to commit some grievous error like spilling a glass of wine, your manner should be that of absolute unflappability; your face, an unmoving visage the likes of which ought to be chiseled into stone. Stop. Apologize. Offer to clean it up. And move on. The aura you project is of the utmost importance, especially when you want to encourage others to approach you, or for you yourself to get in the right headspace before entering a conversation circle. Even when standing idly by the table proffering the light lunch, your manner should convey: “I am ready for professional conversation.” OPP 1 demonstrated, dropping their hands to their side, and adopting a vacant-looking grin somewhere in between nitrous addict and recent lobotomite. OPP 1 did look extremely approachable. It was a grin that conveyed a level of familiarity and ease with the Clio dashboard and fluorescent lights. It was a grin of unconscious competence. It was a grin that said I belong.
This reporter found the “Introduction to Employer Interactions” genuinely helpful. An identical session will be held on Wednesday, November 6.
---
jqr9gh@virginia.edu