Among the many benefits that my new career might offer, the opportunity to travel easily ranks near the top. There's not much better than paying a couple of dollars to board a bus and, a few hours later, stepping off in some place that the younger version of me never could have imagined visiting. And one of my favorite things about going somewhere new? The chance to discover and eat new and interesting foods. In fact, if you were to look inside the matryoshka doll of my decision-making process, you'd find, sealed inside the innermost doll, a delicious sandwich.
I love eating. The fact that restaurants in New York never last any amount of time is awful if you own one, but great if you eat in them. My neighborhood constantly has new places popping up, and leaving the neighborhood has given me an excuse to try each and every one of them. Of course, finding a new place to love risks making it that much harder to leave, but I'm willing to take that chance. Some of my recent favorites include: Bark Hot Dogs, whose dogs are truly amazing and beat out my old favorites (Oscar Meyer with cheese inside) by such a wide margin that I sometimes wonder if I'd ever eaten a hot dog before; Franny's Pizza, which some say is the best pizza in New York, though my Judge, an ancient Brooklynite, holds that nothing on Flatbush Avenue can even be sanitary, let alone good; and finally, iCi, where they promise that they know how to treat eggs right and serve a decent bloody mary while they prove it.
I don't really have any real idea what kind of food I'm going to find in D.C. All told, I've spent less than two weeks in the capitol and, while I didn't run across anything truly memorable, I've always enjoyed the area more than I thought I would. One thing that I do know is that I'm going to be relying heavily on Tyler Cowen's Ethnic Dining Guide while I'm there. He explains where you can find amazing things like Bolivian food trucks and the finest gas station/tacqueria in the metropolitan D.C. area. Don't be surprised if this turns into a food blog for a few weeks.
We still have a few more days in the neighborhood yet, so this weekend I'll be visiting the Milk Truck Grilled Cheese stand at Brooklyn Flea, which I suspect is one of those places that is only remarkable for the length of the line, and Roman's on DeKalb, which is meant to have some pretty serious gelato. Other than that, it's eating whatever is left in the fridge. We've got a week to empty that thing and we have seven pounds of raw chicken to get through to do it. That's a pound of chicken a day until we pack out. I can hardly believe it!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Negotiating A-101
After surviving what had promised to be an awkward discussion with the Judge, I now have nothing left to do but look forward to the start of my A-100 class later this month. I say it was a difficult discussion, but in truth, I got the sense that the news wasn’t all that hard for the Judge to take. He just wanted to make sure my replacement was all lined up, and beyond that, it was very much a “best of luck, don’t get shot” sort of attitude. Much better than expected! The worst part was figuring out my leave-date, particularly as my Judge is a shrewd negotiator with a reputation for getting his way without looking like he wanted anything in the first place.
Now, my clerkship involves participating in settlement talks and mediations, so I’ve watched a fair few negotiations over the last eight months. I like to think that during those countless hours listening to securities fraud cases and employment discrimination disputes, that I’ve learned a few things about how to negotiate. The two most important appear to be:
1) Never, ever, open the bidding anywhere near your final position. That kind of efficiency may be desirable when Mrs. Chadha and I are trying to decide where to sit in a restaurant, but it is deadly to the art of negotiation in most other contexts.
2) Talk constantly about how you “can’t bid against yourself.” Legal custom apparently requires that lawyers mention, at least once, but maybe as many as three-dozen times, “how I can’t be expected to bid against myself, your honor!” In New York, this is usually (and most effectively) done in an obnoxious, mid-Atlantic accent. It also doesn’t matter that the phrase doesn’t actually mean anything at all, or that I can’t stand hearing it. It’s just understood that it’s going to be used in every negotiation context, by every lawyer, until the end of time.
When I finally got my chance to put what I've learned to the test, I'm sorry to say that I failed to follow either rule.
My opening offer to the Judge was that I would continue to work until Friday, March 25th. Since FSO training starts on Monday, March 28th, I basically said that the only thing I wasn’t willing to do was work both jobs simultaneously. Unsurprisingly, the Judge accepted my proposal, so I now have only half-a-weekend to relocate from New York to Washington - hopefully in time to attend a Sunday afternoon welcome party with my new colleagues. What this means in practice is that poor Mrs. Chadha will probably have to shoulder more of the pack-out burden than is probably fair, but I suppose that’s just a consequence of her own cosmic negotiating blunder - agreeing to marry me. I guess law schools in New Zealand don’t prohibit bidding against oneself the same way we do - and thank God for that.
Now, my clerkship involves participating in settlement talks and mediations, so I’ve watched a fair few negotiations over the last eight months. I like to think that during those countless hours listening to securities fraud cases and employment discrimination disputes, that I’ve learned a few things about how to negotiate. The two most important appear to be:
1) Never, ever, open the bidding anywhere near your final position. That kind of efficiency may be desirable when Mrs. Chadha and I are trying to decide where to sit in a restaurant, but it is deadly to the art of negotiation in most other contexts.
2) Talk constantly about how you “can’t bid against yourself.” Legal custom apparently requires that lawyers mention, at least once, but maybe as many as three-dozen times, “how I can’t be expected to bid against myself, your honor!” In New York, this is usually (and most effectively) done in an obnoxious, mid-Atlantic accent. It also doesn’t matter that the phrase doesn’t actually mean anything at all, or that I can’t stand hearing it. It’s just understood that it’s going to be used in every negotiation context, by every lawyer, until the end of time.
When I finally got my chance to put what I've learned to the test, I'm sorry to say that I failed to follow either rule.
My opening offer to the Judge was that I would continue to work until Friday, March 25th. Since FSO training starts on Monday, March 28th, I basically said that the only thing I wasn’t willing to do was work both jobs simultaneously. Unsurprisingly, the Judge accepted my proposal, so I now have only half-a-weekend to relocate from New York to Washington - hopefully in time to attend a Sunday afternoon welcome party with my new colleagues. What this means in practice is that poor Mrs. Chadha will probably have to shoulder more of the pack-out burden than is probably fair, but I suppose that’s just a consequence of her own cosmic negotiating blunder - agreeing to marry me. I guess law schools in New Zealand don’t prohibit bidding against oneself the same way we do - and thank God for that.
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