【Chapter 44 – An Unexpected Reward】
A few days after Ms. Go Jaesuk was released, Attorney Duncan called me to his office. Then he held out a white envelope.
"What’s this?"
"Broadway show tickets."
Inside the envelope were four tickets to the musical *A Christmas Story*.
"And here, this too."
Inside the second paper bag he handed me was a bottle of champagne.
"Why all of this…?"
"For your hard work. Without you kids, someone who shouldn’t have gone to prison would have ended up there."
In the end, Attorney Denny Duncan had thought the same thing we had. He believed that if Ms. Go Jaesuk went to prison, it would have been an unjust result.
If he hadn’t believed that, Ms. Go Jaesuk could never have been released.
As he’d said, we were nothing more than students, not lawyers.
"Thank you."
"But whose idea was it?"
"Pardon?"
"The approach to the causation issue."
"It was an idea that came up while we were thinking it over together."
"Was it?"
"Yes."
"Then who wrote this legal memo?"
"We wrote that together too."
"Someone had to draft it. Was it you?"
"…Yes."
At my answer, Attorney Denny Duncan nodded, then brought up the matter he had mentioned over the phone.
"So, have you thought about it?"
"About what?"
"Working as a paralegal at my office."
A paralegal is an administrative assistant who works at a law firm or legal office—roughly equivalent to an office manager in Korea.
They assist attorneys by gathering materials necessary for litigation, conducting interviews, drafting documents, and so on; it is a position mainly filled by people with legal knowledge but no bar license.
"Were you serious? I thought you were joking."
"I’m serious. Thirty dollars an hour. Of course, you’d work part-time so you can balance it with school, and if you have an exam or urgent schoolwork, I’ll let you off anytime. You won’t need to come into the office much; the work I give you can be done at school or home. You only need to come in when I call. How about it? Not bad, right?"
"Regardless of whether it’s good or not, I’m on an F-1 student visa, so I can’t work off-campus."
"Ah, that. That’s no problem."
"What? No problem?"
"I’ll talk to the school’s pro bono office and work something out."
As he spoke, Denny Duncan wiggled his nose.
It sounded like there was some kind of loophole.
It wasn’t actually a bad offer. Even setting aside the money, opportunities for law students to learn practical work like this were rare.
But…
"Thank you for the offer, but I must decline."
"Why? Is it the pay? Thirty an hour isn’t bad. Or is it because you’re worried about balancing it with your studies? Don’t worry about that. I really will let you off for anything. And the visa issue can be solved if I register the office as an affiliated site with NYU’s pro bono program. Think it over. It’s a good opportunity."
"No. I’m already working as a research assistant, and I need to prepare for the Moot Court Competition early next year, so I think it’s right to decline."
"Is that so? Hmm… then I can’t help it. Ah, by the way, have you found a summer internship?"
***
The next day, at school.
I took the show tickets and champagne Attorney Duncan had given me.
"He gave you show tickets? Ah, by the way, have you guys tried the kimchi Ms. Go Hyeongyeong gave us? It’s crazy good. Seriously unbelievable. It’s hard to find kimchi this good even in Korea. I don’t know what she put in it, but there’s a slight kick, almost like Gat-kimchi. Go Eun loved it too—we each had two bowls of rice with it yesterday and even boiled ramyeon at night."
"Really? Her daughter said she lives in New Jersey and was thinking of opening a side-dish shop soon. So the kimchi really is good. I’m in the dorm, so I was worried about my roommate and haven’t opened it yet."
"Yeah, try it, Sein. It’s really good. When I was in Korea, kimchi was just kimchi. But once you’re out here, you realize how precious it is."
Donguk and his wife had completely fallen for the kimchi Ms. Go Jaesuk’s daughter had given them. They had even called separately to ask about the ingredients.
"But, Duncan offered you a part-time paralegal position?"
"Hey, isn’t that a bit much? That office doesn’t even have paralegal positions. It’s full of nothing but ambulance chasers."
Michael frowned and shook his head.
"He didn’t seem like that kind of lawyer. He actually seems to do a lot of pro bono work."
"What, Heon? You didn’t say yes, did you?"
"No. I turned him down."
"Of course. We didn’t bust our asses to get in here just to work at an office like that."
"What’s wrong with that office?"
"Ugh. Are you seriously asking that? You saw it too. They share a secretary and a printer."
"It’s the same at a big law firm."
"That’s only when you’re junior. Once you’re senior, you get your own secretary. And at a big law firm, the printer doesn’t need coins."
Honestly, Attorney Duncan’s office really was run-down. I’d only defended it because Michael was talking about it like some Brooklyn back alley.
"So, Heon, don’t tell me your dream is to become a lawyer like Duncan?"
"As if."
"Right! I mean no. It better not. I’m going to commute to my Wall Street law office wearing a power suit so tight it looks like it could burst, with black coffee in one hand and a Tumi ballistic briefcase in the other."
"Why do you need a ballistic briefcase?"
"Just because. It looks cool."
Since I couldn’t say I knew what kind of lawyer Duncan was, I couldn’t definitively say I wanted to become a lawyer like him—or not.
Still, judging by outward appearances alone, he wasn’t a lawyer I wanted to emulate.
Even so, I was a little curious. Why would an elite lawyer—a magna cum laude graduate of Harvard Law, who had been on the Camille case team at Hopkins & Sutherland—be in a shabby shared office like that?
"But it’s surprising. Giving show tickets and alcohol. He didn’t seem like the considerate type."
Donguk said.
"Exactly. He didn’t seem like he had a bad temper, but it felt like he might blow up in anger if you somehow got on his wrong side over the slightest thing. Ah, but these are for this Saturday. Wow, great. We’re all going, right?"
"Sorry. I have plans."
"Ah, really?"
"Hyung, you take my ticket."
"Why?"
"You gave me basketball game tickets before. You and my sister-in-law should go."
"Ah, I’d love that, but… are you sure it’s okay to give it to me?"
"Yes, I have plans that day anyway."
"What plans? It’d be more fun if we all went."
I have plans.
"But I haven’t seen Eleanor around lately. Is she sick? Heon, do you know? You’re close with her."
"Hey, Michael, you seem unnecessarily interested in Eleanor."
"Yep. That’s correct."
"Why are you like that?"
"It’s not just me. Every guy at school probably is."
"Don’t drag all the male students down to your level."
"The guy most interested is probably Thomas, whom you like."
"Hey, when did I say I liked Thomas?"
"Fine, deny it. Why are you getting mad? You must really like him."
"This is…"
"Ah! Sein, put that down. That’s Assault in the Third Degree."
"No, if I succeed, it’s First-Degree Murder. I have intent to kill. Come here. Hey, come here."
"Heon, stop him."
Eleanor was in Paris right now.
---*---
"No. I’m already working as a research assistant, and I need to prepare for the Moot Court Competition early next year, so I think it’s right to decline."
"Is that so? Hmm… then I can’t help it. Ah, have you found a summer internship?"
"Not yet."
"If I asked if you’d intern at my office?"
"……."
"Hahaha. I’m joking. You probably want to do it somewhere like Skadden or Kirkland. Have you applied anywhere?"
"DMBG."
After dinner, Denny returned to his office and recalled his conversation with Jeheon.
"Hmm, what a shame."
Denny looked around his office.
He had no idea how so many documents could be piled up in a windowless room.
Even he could see it wasn’t an office that a talented student at a top school like NYU Law School would want to work in.
"DMBG…"
DMBG was an acronym for Davis, Miller, VanHill & Garland, and those in the legal world called the firm by those initials.
The law firm where Obama had worked.
"It’s a shame, but maybe that place suits him better…."
Muttering out of habit, Denny Duncan took out his cell phone.
And he dialed an old friend’s number.
Ring, ring.
"Hey, what’s the occasion? You calling me first? Is this DC?"
"No."
"Then why are you calling? Was it to answer that offer I made you?"
"No, I told you, I’m not interested."
"Then why?"
"Let me ask you something. Do you know if there’s a student named Jeheon from NYU among your summer internship applicants?"
"Who? Jeheon? I don’t know. I’m not the recruiting partner. Why do you ask?"
"Then tell your recruiting partner, ‘He’s a capable kid. Have him in for an interview.’"
All I want for Christmas is…
"Heon, want to play tennis?"
Saturday morning, as I came out to the kitchen for coffee, Mia asked me.
"Tennis? With it snowing this much?"
"Didn’t I tell you? Mark has a membership at the Sutton Indoor Tennis Club on 60th Street. Jen is coming later too, so with you, the four of us could play doubles. It’d be perfect."
"Jen plays tennis too?"
"Yeah."
What a multi-talented woman. The more I peeled back, the more there was.
Ah, but how did Mia know I played tennis?
"If you’re interested, let’s go together this afternoon."
"I am interested, but… I have somewhere to go this afternoon, so I’ll have to pass."
"Oh, really?"
"That’s too bad. Will you ask me again next time?"
"Okay."
"Ah, by the way, Mia, how did you know I played tennis?"
"You wrote it on your resume."
Aha, right. I had.
I’d included it on the resume I submitted for the research assistant position under Professor James Madison.
Resumes used in America are a bit different from those used in Korea.
Should I say they’re more narrative in both format and content than Korean resumes?
Unlike Korean resumes, which from the start require education and qualifications to be listed in short-answer form, American resumes begin with descriptions of the applicant’s experience and career.
Of course, you still have to list your education, and while they are descriptive, they shouldn’t be verbose—they’re free-form enough that you can write in hobbies and interests.
"Did I write that?"
"Yeah."
I must have been desperate. To think I even wrote things like that.
At twenty-seven, there wasn’t much to put on a resume.
In fact, I’d only played tennis briefly in high school.
I’d been pretty good at it, but it had been more of an extracurricular for college applications than something I enjoyed. Naturally, I lost interest after entering university.
I started playing seriously after my father’s liver transplant.
I’d started again to find some exercise for my health, but it was surprisingly fun.
I think I played almost three times a week.
"But where are you going with all this snow? Surely not school?"
"No. To the airport."
"JFK?"
"Yeah."
"Why? Who’s coming?"
"Yeah."
"Who?"
"Someone."
"Must be someone special. Alright, then. Have a safe trip."
"I will."
2012 had been exceptional in many ways. In the fall, Hurricane Sandy caused a massive blackout, and in winter, the heavy snow had been enough to paralyze the streets.
On a Saturday afternoon before Christmas, I took the subway toward JFK International Airport, where Eleanor was arriving.