Filed.

Bitter Before Better.

Every paralegal has heard the legend. Law firm to in-house. The transformation. Call her Para-ella. Like Cinderella, but make it a paralegal. Reader, it's every bit of glorious. Here's the part nobody tells you first.

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They Left This Part Out of Suits.

For the record: I left property management for a career in law because of a TV show. Not a documentary. Not a podcast. A show. With fictional windows. And a fictional understanding of what the word paralegal means.

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Your tie cost more than my check.

He had a hanger in his office. The wooden kind. You know, the one with the brass hook. The tie was elegantly draped across it like a silk robe commissioned for a Roman emperor by artisans who have never once in their lives touched a paper jam.

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Smart Enough to Pass the Bar. Allegedly.

Baby attorney. One year post-bar. Middle office. Printer right outside his door, right behind my desk. You can guess where this goes. It goes exactly where you think it goes.

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Voluntold, Unprepared, and Writing on Evidence.

Three months into my legal career, I was already working for the managing partner. Not because I had any business being there. Because the only person in that office who knew what was happening had just left.

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