The Bar

I intended to write some massive post on the bar, the horrific nature of it, the overwhelming stress associated with all aspects of the test, the proctors who send out a list of 10,000 things you can't bring in and who, come test day, have no idea (a) what's on the list, or (b) that there was a list in the first place, those same proctors who probably moonlight as beer-hawking vendors at Rockies' games and couldn't answer a basic question to save their lives, the hundreds of computers crashing all around you as the new experimental ExamSoft version 10, which was released two weeks before the bar and had never been tested in law school finals, blacks out your screen multiple times during the test as you sit in your flimsy 1970s-esque folding chair that has been a litigation bane for a certain local company who manufactures them for years now since they have a propensity to, you know, collapse, the hundreds of orange flags waving around you when no one can save a back-up to their memory sticks, the excruciating wait, the mandatory ethics class and the first encounter with the CBA, which only further convinced me that Campos was right all along, the oh-so-unnecessary public nature of the results, where, within five minutes of posting, everyone knows who failed, and so on, and so forth, but instead I'll give some advice a la "The Graduate" and just say this:

Mortgages.

I'd say there were at least 10 MBEs on this very specific, very finite area of the law. And almost everyone bombed them. Learn them, love them.

So that was that. I won't miss the bar. Maybe someday I'll look back on it fondly as some sort of right of passage, where, for two-three weeks, I knew everything there was to know about the law circa 1920. But for now, good f'in riddance.