We’ve reached late May; our winter discontent has passed, the temperature has risen (presumably anyway), law schools have emptied, and every luxury summer sublet in Murray Hill has been remarkably snatched from Craigs List, all leading to one simple conclusion: Summer Associate Season is officially open. No other industry in the country dumps such staggering amounts of cash and labor into one continuous three-month gong show aimed at convincing a group of blue blooded 24 year olds that a career with a law firm is the lifetime equivalent of winning this month’s lotto jackpot. Beginning back in September, firms began shuttling their more attractive and personable attorneys to each of the “top 10″ law schools to handpick the necessary bunch of eager young legal talent, all toting crippling student loans and appropriately stunning transcripts and resumes (the interview process alone will receive its own post in the future). Full preparations for “the arrival of the Summers” has been in full swing since March, with so much to plan and organize for the elite chosen few. There are of course the lunches, those daily sojourns to the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan with a small group of associates and a virtually unlimited budget. Then you have the lavish social events, providing boundless opportunities to both hobnob with your potential future coworkers and cultivate a chronic alcohol problem. Sailboat booze cruises on the Hudson, rented out nightclubs in Midtown with unrestricted open bar, the inevitable miserable Broadway show made semi-tolerable by the 6-course pre-theater Italian feast and the post-show open tab at Ruby Foos, infused vodka and chocolate strawberry buffets on Friday afternoons. See for yourselves, young impressionable recruits, those big scary law firms of which you heard horror stories detailing brutal hours and heartless treatment are in fact nothing but bacchanalian temples of free-flowing top shelf scotch, with Cuban cigars offered on the deck at sunset. My firm actually placed glass candy dishes touting the firm’s name on each of our desks, and required our “secretaries” (in title only, to add to the illusion of importance) to fill them with the specific candy of our choice once a week. Of course such treatment is part and parcel of the daily life at a firm! How silly of you to have thought otherwise. Did we mention that a special staffmember is assigned to sprinkle rose petals in each associate’s path every morning as he or she emerges from the elevator bank?

But be not fooled, eager young Summers, for imbedded in this afternoon’s expensed $50 foie gras burger is the inevitable catch. Summer associates are generally fresh faced, unbroken, and still clinging to idealism about the brilliant possibilities for a fulfilling (and lucrative) legal career with a law firm. Be mindful that the associates around you have endured at least a year of ceaseless soul-crushing toil, likely spending the past two Thanksgivings holed up in a subzero warehouse scrutinizing 3,000-page documents for typos. They are tired, embittered, and ripe with envy of those not sharing their malcontent. They may be grateful for your presence, since it means a desultory expensed lunch at Cafe Gray and the occasional sparing of a verbal assault because a partner had too many Johnny Blue Labels on the rocks at the Summer Associate Whiskey Tasting the night before. But do not underestimate the power of schadenfreude. These people are not necessarily your friends, and ultimately they may find delight in your humiliation. I have witnessed associates goad summers into reaching staggering levels of inebriation, then manipulating them into revealing highly personal secrets that were later conveniently broadcast to the firm’s masses (and lest we forget the woeful tale of our Indiscreet Email Offender, see previous post). Of course you’re repeating the mantra, “That won’t be a problem for me, I know better, I just won’t get that drunk at firm events.” Extremely easy to say while sitting at your computer reading this, much harder at 1:30 A.M. in the back room of China Club after 4 straight hours of sucking down free Sauza shots. And note to all female summers: be wary - your behavior at social functions will be more closely scrutinized than your male counterparts, and any infractions or indiscretions are far less forgivable, thanks to the tenacity of that wonderful social convention, the double standard. Do not mention that you were beer pong champion of your sorority, wear a decolletage-revealing designer blouse to a dinner, or share a cab home from an event with a male associate without the full awareness that, beginning almost immediately, your activities will be subject to the full gamut of gossip, judgment and conventional moral castigation reserved for women who step outside the bounds of traditional white-shoe custom.

But aside from the possibility of minor reputation smears, you have a much larger problem this summer: if you are among the vast majority of rising third year law students, you are planning on cashing in your gluttonous drunken summer for a shiny Company Letterhead offer letter inviting you to commit the remainder of your youth and joie de vie to a place that considers you stupid enough to actually fall for this summer’s dog & pony show. Accept any offer with the knowledge that your entire worth as a human being has already been carefully calculated and spent by this firm on open bar tabs and Brazilian meat buffets. When you return as a first year associate, you will then be expected to slowly pay back every four star lunch and front row Broadway ticket tenfold with sheer hours of your life.

I write all this with the full realization that the chances of this post leading a single summer associate to forego the six figure salary with gorgeous benefits package, potential five figure bonus and bar exam stipend for a government or public service job paying a third of the money are slim to none. But as you read this, likely while chugging Pepto after a 4th consecutive lunch at Le Bernardin or before heading to an evening of firm-sponsored champagne and box seats at the Yankee game and/or Tony Awards, take a moment to ponder the greater forces at work in this scheme. Regardless of your current financial status/career aspirations/life dreams, there are other options besides white collar indentured servitude. And when you figure out what they are, be sure to let me know.