In a profession filled to overflowing with pretension, posturing, insincerity and slobberous ass-kissing, it’s always startling to hear raw honesty come from someone’s mouth, even the unlikeliest of sources. This afternoon, as I sat at my desk returning emails, entering billables and wading through the paper mounds canopying my desk, all while inhaling a chicken parm hero, the phone rang.

“This is O Smith.”

“Hi, Ms. Smith? How are you, this is K Jones from Ultraconformist Executive Placement. How are you today?”

I swallow a massive chunk of mozzarella and marinara-drenched Italian bread. Yet another recruiter – I should start smearing lamb’s blood on my office door every night, maybe then they’ll pass me by. “Relatively miserable and existentially dissatisfied, just like every other associate you’ve cold called today.”

“Ha ha ha! How droll. The reason for my call is to find out whether you’re considering making a change at this point in your career. It’s never a bad time to start planning longterm for your future. I wanted to let you know about some excellent opportunities in –”

I can picture this woman in my head, 5′3″ and 105 pounds, clad in this-season Tahari and 3-inch heels, immaculately blowdried mane framing a gaunt, ferret-like face soaked with Creme de la Mer and Trish McEvoy foundation, holding the phone with her bony right hand out of habit to keep the left liberated for exaggerated gesturing (all the better to display the Harry Winston monstrosity set in platinum on her ring finger). Suddenly, it occurs to me that this legal ramora may actually be a good source of information.

“Wait, hold on a second, for once I’d actually like to talk to you further – can I call you right back?”

“Absolutely, feel free. My direct extension is XXXXX.”

In under 5 seconds I manage to hang up the phone, detangle myself from any melted cheese strands, jump from my chair to shut the office door, rummage around in my cavernous phone-swallowing purse for my cell (general rule: never conduct a conversation with the potential to reveal actual truth on a firm phone line) and dial the little vulture’s number.

“Hi, K? This is O Smith calling you back.”

“Ms. Smith, wonderful! Now the reason for my call–”

“Sorry to interrupt you, but I don’t want to waste too much of your time. I’ve heard of your group, you’re one of the major legal recruiters in the city, yes?”

“Absolutely. We have over x hundred placements a month in y number of practice groups and–”

“I’ll cut to the chase. I’m not looking for another law firm job right now, or perhaps ever. But I would like some honest advice. Would you mind if I asked you a few very blunt, off the record questions about firm job placement?”

“Of course, feel free.”

“I’ve heard that the legal market’s pretty good right now.”

“Absolutely. We have more spots than we can fill in certain areas like equity derivatives, asset management, securities litigation–”

“Um, yeah, ok. What if I want to follow a slightly less traditional path in my career?”

“What type of less traditional path?”

“Meaning, what if I take a few months off and do something else, then return to law.”

“What’s the ‘else’ we’re talking about exactly?”

“Doing something like, oh, say, I don’t know, write a book.”

“And then you want to come back and get another job at a firm?”

“Well, if my current firm won’t give me a leave of absence – and I’d say the chances of that are slim to none – then yes, let’s say I was vaguely contemplating the idea.”

“And you want the truth?”

“Hit me.”

“I hope you’re prepared to be poor for a while.”

“Whoah. Ok, that was honest. Why?”

“You’re saying you want to step back, exit the firm world and do something creative. You asked for bluntness, here it is. Law firms don’t want creative types. They don’t want aspiring authors or painters. They want cookie cutter people from top law schools who will follow orders and bill 2,000 a year, minimum, without straying from the line.”

“Yeah but I’ve been proving myself able to do that, loathsome as I find it. And it’s not like I’m taking 5 years to stalk bat-eared foxes in the Serengeti or serve hard time, we’re talking about a few months here.”

“If you leave, there will be a gap on your resume that you’ll have to explain away, period. Firms want lawyers who will not question their career choices, and are dying to spend the rest of their working lives billing hours. Six months may as well be a lifetime – it’s time spent not at a firm. Believe me, I know – I place people in firms every day.”

“People leave firms for a while and then come back, I’ve seen it happen all the time.”

“Sure, they go to hedge funds or do transactional work or go in-house for a while, then return to a firm for the money.”

“In other words, they don’t step anywhere near the edge of the corporate frying pan.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“So essentially, I can leave and come back, but if I spend those months doing anything that doesn’t require wearing Banana Republic every day and making pointless smalltalk in the hallway, I may as well walk into the interviews straight from an Amazonian leper colony, without bothering to shower.”

“Well, yes. The corporate world wants loyalty, you can’t always come back.”

“Wow, I’ve always known this, but I’ve never actually heard it stated so bluntly by an actual knowledgable person that exists outside my internal monologue.”

“I’d imagine you probably think that, because you went to X and Y schools and had no trouble getting summer offers, you’ll be able to walk right back into a hiring partner’s office and get hired.”

“Well no, I didn’t think it was that simple.”

“Good, because it isn’t. I suggest you try to take vacation and sick days or something.”

“You mean, write a book during a week-long vacation and a few personal days?”

“It would eliminate the resume gap.”

I start to crack up, then realize she wasn’t kidding. “Well, thank you for telling me this.”

“I hope I haven’t shocked you.”

“You haven’t said anything shocking. I’m just shocked to hear you actually say it.”

“You asked for honesty.”

“I very much appreciate it.”

“If you do decide to continue practicing, please feel free to call me anytime, we really do have some exciting opportunities right now–”

“Uh, I will, thanks.”

Ok, so I have my truth for the day, the “drop that whole idea and move to other career options” light is officially blinking. I could always try bouncing at clubs. Sure, there’s that minor drawback of being a 120-pound girl, but I could tell them I’ve learned from the best.