This story is from a while ago now, and it is very much paraphrased and some of the legal language has been simplified to layman’s terms.
I am applying for a legal job that’s very much inside my profession — so much so that when sending in my resume, I include in my hobbies section my personal blog, which at the time is a relatively well-read website about the very niche section of law I studied. (This is before social media, and the average Internet user’s attention span was, shall we say, longer?)
I started the blog when I was in law school, and I thought including it when applying for this particular law firm was a good idea since they notoriously only hire graduates from my particular law school.
I am halfway through my interview, and I feel it is going well. I am answering the questions calmly and quickly, making sure to showcase my deep knowledge of the subjects. I am being interviewed by three partners at the firm, and one of them has been silently glaring at me the whole time. He finally speaks up.
Partner: “I noticed that on your resume you lied about your authoring [Legal Blog]. That’s not a good look.”
Me: *Momentarily taken aback* “I… I didn’t lie about that. That’s my blog.”
Partner: “That blog is written by an A.B. Smith.”
Me: “That’s a pen name. I am the actual author, and I have the credentials to prove it.”
Partner: “That blog is written by a man, and not by a fresh graduate.”
Me: “Can you please specify where in the blog it indicates the gender of the author or reveals any details about their age or professional status? If you’d just let me—”
Partner: “It’s just not a good look. It’s not a good look for us to consider hiring someone who tries to plagiarize someone else’s work, and it’s an even worse look for you.”
Despite my attempts to protest, this partner seems to hold a bigger sway over the other two, so the interview is cut short, and I am given the polite “Thank you for coming in” speech that means, “It’s a no.” I can’t be sure, but I also get the distinct vibe from this older man that he can’t be convinced that a young woman could write my blog.
When I get home, I admit that I am angry, and when I am angry, I write. I write up a blog about the interview. (I don’t name names, but I do name the law firm.)
I write about how ironic it is that a law firm dedicated to upholding the law has partners who are self-appointed judges, juries, and executioners who are disinterested in looking at the evidence.
I write about the disappointment of going to my particular law school in the hopes of working for this particular firm and that, despite my obvious knowledge of my material and my darn-good score when passing the bar, I have been dismissed because of one item on the “hobbies” section of my resume.
I also write about the hint of sexism in the experience, being very careful to word that section in a way that isn’t libelous (lawyer here!).
I put the blog up and go about my day.
A few weeks later, I get a call from a woman I have never heard of.
Caller: “Hi, this is [Caller] from [Law Firm that I interviewed for]. Is this [My Name]?”
Me: “That is me.”
Caller: “Great! Do you also go by [Pen Name] and write the [Blog]?”
Me: “What is this about?”
Caller: “I am calling to ask you to take down [blog about the interview]. It contains information that is factually incorrect, and we—”
Me: “Who is ‘we’?”
Caller: “I am calling from [Law Firm].”
Me: “Yes, but who are you, exactly? Are you a lawyer?”
Caller: “I’m a legal secretary.”
Me: “And who do you work for?”
Caller: “[Law Firm].”
Me: “Yes, again, I know that. Do you work for a particular partner?”
Caller: *Hesitantly* “I work for [Partner].”
As I suspected, this is the same partner who outright called me a liar.
Me: “Have [Partner] call me directly.”
Caller: “Well, he’s a very busy—”
Me: “Have him call me. I won’t talk to anyone else.”
I hang up, feeling my anger rising again but also feeling a shot of adrenaline from the knowledge that I’ve rattled the cage of the lawyer who wronged me.
Less than an hour later, I get another call. It’s the partner himself! Ignoring niceties, he jumps straight into his demand.
Partner: “Look, take down that hit piece. It’s a blatant lie and—”
Me: “Oh, so in the interview, you accused me of not being capable of authoring that blog, but now you expect me to take down something from that very same blog? Which is it? You can’t have it both ways.”
Partner: “Look, you’ve made your point, but the fact remains that what you’ve written is factually incorrect and—”
Me: “Tell me anything that’s written in that blog that didn’t actually happen.”
Partner: “You called me sexist!”
Me: “Did I mention you by name?”
Partner: “You know that’s not relevant—”
Me: “I know what’s relevant in a court of law. Do you?”
Partner: “Look, can you please take down the blog? It’s been commented on a lot at [Law School], and it’s affecting our recruitment.”
Me: “Why? Are you worried it’s ‘not a good look‘?“
There is a pause. He recognizes the phrase.
Partner: “Take it down, or we’ll sue for libel—”
Me: “Send it to A.B. Smith.”
There was another pause. I decided right there and then that if this man apologized and admitted his mistake, I would gladly take down the blog and move on with my life. Instead, he just hung up, and I kept the blog up.
Over twenty years later, I still haven’t been sued.
