(As I write this, the results of the 2008 Bar are just hours away from release, and thousands of aspiring lawyers will, for better or worse, soon have a "How Did You Find Out?" story to tell. I thought I'd finally put pen to paper...er...keyboard to cyberspace and share my own such story. As Simon Cowell would say, it's all a bit self-indulgent, but screw it, it still gets a laugh whenever I tell it, and it's actually a testament to my lameness.)
*************************************
It’s the ‘90’s. The Battle for Bar Supremacy in the post EDSA-era rages on between U.P. Law and Ateneo Law. For eternal glory and all that.
The two schools fought to a standstill over the last five or so bar examinations held in the de
cade, almost alternating at the top every year. The year I take the exam, U.P. is the reigning champion (albeit by split decision), giving hope for a rare back-to-back win over our arch-rival. Our own faculty, however, doesn’t think highly of our batch, basically writes off the year to Ateneo, and openly looks to our underclass for future salvation (kind of like Rick Moranis in "Parenthood" when he tells Steve Martin to give up on his older kid and just work on the youngest).
These are also the dark ages of communications, where PLDT is still hyping “Zero Backlog”, cell phones are despised status symbols of social climbers, and not many people know of “that internet thing.” So to get news of the Bar, you have to either brave the crowds and go to the Supreme Court personally, or hang around a phone and agonize over every ring (and non-ring).
When word spreads that our bar results are about to come out, I decide to wait someplace by myself where no one can find or contact me; I don't want to be like other examinees who deliberately gather in large numbers on result night. My thinking: well and good if everyone in a group passes, but what if even just one person in the room fails? Awwwwwwkkkwwwaaaaaarrrddd.
So on the night of the release of the Bar results, I find myself in Glorietta, eating by myself in Delifrance, and catching the last full show of "Sabrina" to kill time. I plan to head over the Supreme Court after the movie, when the crowds at the court have thinned, and take the results like a man: alone and in the dark.
I get to the Supreme Court. There are still a lot of people around, but I have a clear path to the bulletin board where the names of all those who passed are posted. I see several clusters of strangers nearby: some happy, some sobbing, some happy and sobbing. I feel vindicated by my “go solo” strategy already.
On the bulletin board is something like 20 sheets of paper, posted two high and maybe ten wide. The first sheet on the upper left portion of the board lists the topnotchers - the examinees with the ten highest scores. The rest of the sheets contain a long alphabetical printout (dot matrix!) of all those who passed the Bar, about a thousand names total.
I immediately look for my name in the alphabetical listing. I see it. My full name is right there: “Mr. Lame Lawyer” (editor's note: not my real full name). I give myself a silent “Yes!” and fist pump.
Next, I check which law school topped the Bar. I look at the uppermost (and only the uppermost) portion of the topnotchers’ list, and immediately see the name of our class valedictorian at No. 1. Alright, U.P. Law! Another silent “Yes!” and fist pump.
After finding out who placed first, I immediately go back to the general alphabetical listing of those who passed the exam and proceed to look for the names of my friends, classmates and batchmates. “Hey!”, I say to no one in particular, “almost every name I can think of from U.P. Law is on this list!” (I learn later we had a near 100% passing rate). Because so many passed, it takes me a good 20 minutes to find all the names from U.P. on the list.
Satisfied, I finally turn back to the sheet of paper with the listing of the topnotchers. I smile as I read the name of our valedictorian again at the top. Then, as I go further down the topnotchers' list, I read something . . .
“Mr. Lame Lawyer”.
I take a sharp step back and cover my mouth with both hands.
Putanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputangina…
Oh my God. I mean, holy…OH MY GOD!!!
I stand there, stunned, for I don’t know how long. Is this for real? Yes! Yes it is! My name is RIGHT THERE! IN DOT MATRIX!
I go further down the topnotchers’ list. A classmate! A batchmate! Another classmate! Another batchmate! And another, and another! Good Lord, U.P. has practically swept the top ten! We've handed Ateneo it's ass! “Yes!” and fist pumps all around!
I can’t really remember - much less describe - all the emotions running through me. All I know is, after a while, it dawns on me . . .
I’m all alone.
I mean literally, I don’t know or recognize anyone around the Supreme Court. There are examinees everywhere, of course, but I don't know anyone. I look frantically around for a familiar face, but THERE IS NO ONE THERE FROM U.P.!
Maybe I can call someone. Oh wait, THERE ARE NO CELLPHONES AND LANDLINES YET!
To recap, it’s one of the happiest moments of my life, and one of the proudest moments of my school, and I can’t find anyone to share the moment with! Not a "Hi", not a hug, not a handshake.
So I’m in a bind of sorts. It’s the scene of my greatest triumph, but no one in the vicinity knows about it. Do I just leave and go home with nary a victory lap? Do I go up to the clusters of happy/sobbing strangers and introduce myself as…ahem…a topnotcher? Do I just shout it out in public crazy person-like?
Now I really regret going solo.
But wait. Who’s that at the street corner getting out of a car? Why, it’s my U.P. Law batchmate “T.A.”! We don’t really know each other that well, but we do exchange "Pinoy eyebrow nod" greetings in the school hallways. He’ll have to do.
But I have to be careful. I don’t think “T.A.” knows if he passed yet, so I can’t just run up to him and rant “Pare, guess what! I topped the Bar! You?”
No, I gotta play this cool.
I stand next to the bulletin board, wait for "T.A.", and give him a plastic “Hey, you’re here too?”. We exchange some pleasantries, but I let him get to the main alphabetical list right away. Better he see my name up there than me tell him about it. I mean, I don’t want to be too much of a douchebag.
“T.A” goes up to the alphabetical list, and immediately sees his name. Yehey “T.A.”! He then looks at the topnotchers’ list and quickly sees our valedictorian’s name at number one. Yehey again! After reading the valedictorian’s name, "T.A." then does me the great pleasure of immediately. . . leaving the topnotchers' list and going back to the main alphabetical list and looking for all of his friends and classmates.
For another 20 minutes.
Dammit. So close.
Now, I can’t play it cool forever, and I am already BURSTING with emotion at this point (I can only liken it to really needing to pee while the gas station attendant looks for the key to the men's room). And as far as “T.A.” is concerned, there’s really no need for me to keep hanging around next to him while he looks for all the names of his friends and classmates. In fact, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m kind of creepy by now. I even try to speed things up by "accidentally" blurting out the names of our batchmates who I know passed. If he’d only get back to the topnotchers’ list already!
Finally, it looks like he's done with the main list. He inches over to the topnotchers' list again. I stand right next to him. He reads our valedictorian's name again. He goes further down the list. I am ready to explode.
He reads my name out loud.
"Mr. Lame Lawyer".
He then turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes, and says to me point blank in total sincerity...
"Who?"
*************************************
It’s the ‘90’s. The Battle for Bar Supremacy in the post EDSA-era rages on between U.P. Law and Ateneo Law. For eternal glory and all that.
The two schools fought to a standstill over the last five or so bar examinations held in the de
cade, almost alternating at the top every year. The year I take the exam, U.P. is the reigning champion (albeit by split decision), giving hope for a rare back-to-back win over our arch-rival. Our own faculty, however, doesn’t think highly of our batch, basically writes off the year to Ateneo, and openly looks to our underclass for future salvation (kind of like Rick Moranis in "Parenthood" when he tells Steve Martin to give up on his older kid and just work on the youngest).These are also the dark ages of communications, where PLDT is still hyping “Zero Backlog”, cell phones are despised status symbols of social climbers, and not many people know of “that internet thing.” So to get news of the Bar, you have to either brave the crowds and go to the Supreme Court personally, or hang around a phone and agonize over every ring (and non-ring).
When word spreads that our bar results are about to come out, I decide to wait someplace by myself where no one can find or contact me; I don't want to be like other examinees who deliberately gather in large numbers on result night. My thinking: well and good if everyone in a group passes, but what if even just one person in the room fails? Awwwwwwkkkwwwaaaaaarrrddd.
So on the night of the release of the Bar results, I find myself in Glorietta, eating by myself in Delifrance, and catching the last full show of "Sabrina" to kill time. I plan to head over the Supreme Court after the movie, when the crowds at the court have thinned, and take the results like a man: alone and in the dark.
I get to the Supreme Court. There are still a lot of people around, but I have a clear path to the bulletin board where the names of all those who passed are posted. I see several clusters of strangers nearby: some happy, some sobbing, some happy and sobbing. I feel vindicated by my “go solo” strategy already.
On the bulletin board is something like 20 sheets of paper, posted two high and maybe ten wide. The first sheet on the upper left portion of the board lists the topnotchers - the examinees with the ten highest scores. The rest of the sheets contain a long alphabetical printout (dot matrix!) of all those who passed the Bar, about a thousand names total.
I immediately look for my name in the alphabetical listing. I see it. My full name is right there: “Mr. Lame Lawyer” (editor's note: not my real full name). I give myself a silent “Yes!” and fist pump.
Next, I check which law school topped the Bar. I look at the uppermost (and only the uppermost) portion of the topnotchers’ list, and immediately see the name of our class valedictorian at No. 1. Alright, U.P. Law! Another silent “Yes!” and fist pump.
After finding out who placed first, I immediately go back to the general alphabetical listing of those who passed the exam and proceed to look for the names of my friends, classmates and batchmates. “Hey!”, I say to no one in particular, “almost every name I can think of from U.P. Law is on this list!” (I learn later we had a near 100% passing rate). Because so many passed, it takes me a good 20 minutes to find all the names from U.P. on the list.
Satisfied, I finally turn back to the sheet of paper with the listing of the topnotchers. I smile as I read the name of our valedictorian again at the top. Then, as I go further down the topnotchers' list, I read something . . .
“Mr. Lame Lawyer”.
I take a sharp step back and cover my mouth with both hands.
Putanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputanginaputangina…
Oh my God. I mean, holy…OH MY GOD!!!
I stand there, stunned, for I don’t know how long. Is this for real? Yes! Yes it is! My name is RIGHT THERE! IN DOT MATRIX!
I go further down the topnotchers’ list. A classmate! A batchmate! Another classmate! Another batchmate! And another, and another! Good Lord, U.P. has practically swept the top ten! We've handed Ateneo it's ass! “Yes!” and fist pumps all around!
I can’t really remember - much less describe - all the emotions running through me. All I know is, after a while, it dawns on me . . .
I’m all alone.
I mean literally, I don’t know or recognize anyone around the Supreme Court. There are examinees everywhere, of course, but I don't know anyone. I look frantically around for a familiar face, but THERE IS NO ONE THERE FROM U.P.!
Maybe I can call someone. Oh wait, THERE ARE NO CELLPHONES AND LANDLINES YET!
To recap, it’s one of the happiest moments of my life, and one of the proudest moments of my school, and I can’t find anyone to share the moment with! Not a "Hi", not a hug, not a handshake.
So I’m in a bind of sorts. It’s the scene of my greatest triumph, but no one in the vicinity knows about it. Do I just leave and go home with nary a victory lap? Do I go up to the clusters of happy/sobbing strangers and introduce myself as…ahem…a topnotcher? Do I just shout it out in public crazy person-like?
Now I really regret going solo.
But wait. Who’s that at the street corner getting out of a car? Why, it’s my U.P. Law batchmate “T.A.”! We don’t really know each other that well, but we do exchange "Pinoy eyebrow nod" greetings in the school hallways. He’ll have to do.
But I have to be careful. I don’t think “T.A.” knows if he passed yet, so I can’t just run up to him and rant “Pare, guess what! I topped the Bar! You?”
No, I gotta play this cool.
I stand next to the bulletin board, wait for "T.A.", and give him a plastic “Hey, you’re here too?”. We exchange some pleasantries, but I let him get to the main alphabetical list right away. Better he see my name up there than me tell him about it. I mean, I don’t want to be too much of a douchebag.
“T.A” goes up to the alphabetical list, and immediately sees his name. Yehey “T.A.”! He then looks at the topnotchers’ list and quickly sees our valedictorian’s name at number one. Yehey again! After reading the valedictorian’s name, "T.A." then does me the great pleasure of immediately. . . leaving the topnotchers' list and going back to the main alphabetical list and looking for all of his friends and classmates.
For another 20 minutes.
Dammit. So close.
Now, I can’t play it cool forever, and I am already BURSTING with emotion at this point (I can only liken it to really needing to pee while the gas station attendant looks for the key to the men's room). And as far as “T.A.” is concerned, there’s really no need for me to keep hanging around next to him while he looks for all the names of his friends and classmates. In fact, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m kind of creepy by now. I even try to speed things up by "accidentally" blurting out the names of our batchmates who I know passed. If he’d only get back to the topnotchers’ list already!
Finally, it looks like he's done with the main list. He inches over to the topnotchers' list again. I stand right next to him. He reads our valedictorian's name again. He goes further down the list. I am ready to explode.
He reads my name out loud.
"Mr. Lame Lawyer".
He then turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes, and says to me point blank in total sincerity...
"Who?"
You know that thing they do in comedies where they build up the pretty music and then suddenly give that scratching needle-jumping-the-record sound effect to show the mood has come to a screeching halt? I'm pretty sure it was invented in my head that very moment.
I can't really blame "T.A.". He only recognizes me by my nickname ("Lame") and not by my full name ("Mr. Lame Lawyer"). And I'm not Big Man on Campus or anything, so not many know me or know of me. But, dammit, this is one of the happiest moments of my life, and I can't hold back my feelings any longer! I have to do something!
"Pare" I shout. "That's ME!"
I can't really blame "T.A.". He only recognizes me by my nickname ("Lame") and not by my full name ("Mr. Lame Lawyer"). And I'm not Big Man on Campus or anything, so not many know me or know of me. But, dammit, this is one of the happiest moments of my life, and I can't hold back my feelings any longer! I have to do something!
"Pare" I shout. "That's ME!"
And then I throw my arms around him and give him the tightest hug possible.
You know that thing they do in comedies where a character goes "Oohhhhh-kaaaaaayyy...." to show he really didn't need or want to know something in a particular way? I'm pretty sure it was invented in "T.A.'s" head that very moment ("Not that there's anything wrong with that..." would also have been an acceptable response).
I quietly left the Supreme Court shortly after that. I made my way home to the love of my family later that night, was actually honored by my school the next day, and milked the glory every day thereafter.
But that night at the Supreme Court with "T.A" forever taught me it's never too early in your career to be reminded how lame you really are.
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Epilogue: One of the cooler things about being among the topnotchers is having your picture appear in the papers the following day. However, depending on the size of the paper - and the skill of the layout editor - the pictures may crowd the front page with the week's big news. In our case, the bar results came the same day several city hall officials had expressed remorse over a fire that destroyed a popular club. So on the day of our ultimate scholastic triumph, one tabloid's cover - I kid you not - read:
sigh
