As is usual at the start of the year, I strip to my underwear, smoke some Vick’s Vap-o-Rub, fast-chant “Owa Tajer Kayam”, and go on a mind-bending introspective journey about life. This year, I asked myself that eternal existential question: what kicks more ass, being a Lame Lawyer or a Dorky Diplomat?
My mind trip breaks it down thusly:
Getting There
Case for Lame Lawyer (LL): You’ve seen “The Paper Chase”. You’ve read “One-L.” Being a law student is supposed to be a living hell. And it is. But it’s a well-defined hell, with a clear path to redemption. You basically follow a straight line: law school, bar review, bar exams, some waiting, and - if you pass - oath taking and powdered wig fitting. In the meantime, for four years after college, you get to ogle co-eds, live with your parents and put off finding a real job.
Intervention for Dorky Diplomat (DD): If law school’s hell, preparing to be a DD is purgatory: nobody knows where they are, where to go, or how best to get the frack out of there. There are Philippine colleges that offer courses in international relations, but graduates often don’t end up in the foreign service. Conversely, there are those who have made it as diplomats here w
ho come from such far-off backgrounds as accounting, engineering and – why the hell not? - architecture. Heck, my own preparation for the foreign service exam was just reading every local newspaper and issue of “Time” since grade school, plus all the Al Franken books I could get my hands on.
Deliberations: For whatever reason, law school has developed a mystique no undergraduate course can match (well, unless you’re a pre-molecular brain rocketology major; in which case, everyone hates you). On the other hand, you can be in, say, bartending school and still legitimately claim that you can go on and become a diplomat.
Resolved in favor of: LL. Try telling your future mother-in-law that you’re a law student. Now tell her, just kidding, you’re actually studying to be a bartender, but still hope to be a diplomat someday. Aaaaaaaaah….
Qualifying Exam
Case for LL: The Philippine Bar exam. The end all and be all. Either you become a lawyer or you don’t. Fail this, and the free ride comes to a screeching halt. Sure, you can take it again, but you’ll always come across some smack-talking jerk who managed to pass on his first try. You can also skip taking the exam again altogether, but then you’ll have to sit through some pretty uncomfortable job interviews and family reunions. So…what’ve you been doing these past four years? Really? How’d that go?
The exam itself is spread out over one long, nerve-wracking September, but at least you know what you’re in for, and you know what needs to be done.
This is what we trained for, people! (cue “Danger Zone”). All the answers can be found in the four-year course and six-month review
you put yourself through, if you can only keep your head clear and your heart rate steady enough to write any of it down. Of course, you can just as easily go all Cougar in “Top Gun” and freak out from the pressure (and many, in fact, do; poor, poor Cougar).
Intervention for DD: The Philippine Foreign Service Officer (FSO) exams. Not as well known, but gaining a reputation as even tougher than the Bar exam (the numbers seem to back this up: only about 2% of those who start the exam process every year go on to become full-fledged foreign service officers, while about 15-30% of bar examinees pass and become lawyers). The FSO exams are actually a series of tests of attrition held over the course of a year, starting with one-day SAT-like qualifying exams, followed by grueling three-day written exams, and ending with oral exams that are part “Bb. Pilipinas” interview, part “The Apprentice” boardroom and part “Queer Eye” makeover.
Oh, and a good portion of the exam is in a foreign language.
The high mortality rate of the FSO exams may seem merciless, but you’re actually better off afterwards than if you failed the Bar. You didn’t have to go through an intense pre-exam review course (at least I didn’t). You didn’t need to spend four years of your life in a specialized school specifically preparing for it. Most likely, no one even knew you took the exams, so there’s not much fallout for failing. And after everything else, your career options are still very much wide open (yes, including bartending).
Deliberations: If they were cities, the Bar would be dense New York and the FSO exams sprawling L.A. The Bar questions are no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point, you-know-it-or-you-don’
t deals. The FSO exams are open ended invitations to unload and wax eloquent. The Bar is neatly compartmentalized into the different fields of law (Criminal, Civil, Labor etc.), so you at least have an idea what’s coming next. The written portion of the FSO exams is divided into broad categories that, well, don’t really help you focus on anything. World History? Gee, thanks.
That narrows it down! (btw, as the photo on the right shows, some examinees think it’s not enough of a challenge to simply answer the World History portion of the exam; you have to look the part and rock the musketeer uniform as well)
The FSO exams may have lower passing rates, but it’s still the Bar that captures the imagination of the Philippine public. The Bar comes with the pageantry of a town fiesta, the logistics of a royal wedding and the sports/stadium patriotism of Pacquiao-Morales II. You got marching bands greeting you if you pass, your name gets printed in the papers, there’s even TV cov
erage of results night. Really, the whole thing is treated not so much a government qualifying exam as the social event of the season.
There’s also tremendous hype and adulation generated by schools, families and entire communities during the Bar. From the start to the end of the exams, you can get free food, be fetched from your home by a driver, even be put up in a hotel if you want. Then, as you finally enter the exam venue, you’re cheered on like the 54th before the final battle in “Glory” and - best of all - underclassmen give you longing gazes as if you were a shirtless Justin Timberlake gyrating to “This I promise You.”
I swear, if you really didn’t care about passing the exam and just wanted to score, this would be the time.
Resolved in favor of: LL. You cannot overstate the profound significance of groupies. You just can’t.
Titles
Case for LL: Stick “Atty.” to the front of your name, and you’re good to go.
Intervention for DD: A lot trickier. When you’re asked what you are/what you do for a living, you can’t simply answer “diplomat” without people thinking you’re pompous or just watch way too much James Bond. You’re better off giving your official designation, and depending on your rank and where you’re assigned, that can be anything from Special Assistant (that’s me right now) to Vice Consul to Second Secretary to Executive Director to Consul to Minister Counselor to Undersecretary to Consul General to Ambassador, or acronyms/contractions (e.g. VC, ExDir) of the foregoing.
Or, you can be a real Pinoy and just be called “p're”.
Deliberations: In the Philippines, you’re more likely to be affectionately called by your title than by your real name, so this category matters. If I walk down the street, it’s very possible someone I know will shout Ah-TORR-neee!. On the flipside, no one has yet yelled out Hey, Special Ass! to me, although I remain hopeful.
Resolved in favor of: DD. Get to the top of the law profession, and you’re still called “Atty.” Get to the top of the diplomacy chain, and you get to be called “Your Excellency.” And that, my friends, is just freakin’ awesome.
Take Home Pay
Case for LL: Law firm salary.
Intervention for DD: Government employee pay scale.
Deliberations: Haaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahaha….that’s great.
Resolved in favor of: LL (but if you’re a DD, you’re rich inside; I keep telling myself this).
Privileges
Case for LL: Well, traffic cops seem to get jittery when they find out you’re a lawyer, and people you hardly know ask you to be ninong to their children, but otherwise there’s no written code of perks or anything.
Intervention for DD: Two words. Diplomatic. Immunity.
Deliberations: Let’s put it this way: All the countries in the world decided to give each ot
her’s diplomats tax exemptions, express lanes at airports, and a whole bunch of “Get Out of Jail Free” cards.
Resolved in favor of: DD. 200 sovereign nations can’t be wrong.
Travel
Case for LL: Whoa, whoa, whoa…It’s lawyering versus the foreign service, and the category is travel? What kind of fracking set-up is this?
Actually, some of my fondest travel memories are from when I was sent by my old law firm to dull courthouses
Intervention for DD: Diplomatic Passport. Chicks dig the Diplomatic Passport.
Deliberations: There’s some strong irony at work here. I’m glad I saw so much of my own country during my LL days, but some of the local good ole’ boy lawyers could make someone from Manila feel, well, alien. On the other hand, sometimes when diplomats gather at a multilateral event, they get so caught up in the tasks at hand that they can momentarily forget what city they're in. Every hotel, meeting room and convention center begins to look just as good as the last one.
Resolved in favor of: Let’s just call this a draw. I earn frequent flyer miles either way.
Jokes
Case for LL: Are you kidding me? There’s a whole cottage industry of
lame lawyer jokes out there. Most involve greed, hell, or a place where you can stick a gavel.
Intervention DD: Not many that I know of, although my bro-in-law insists there's an SNL sketch of diplomats saying “Please pass the shrimp cocktail."
Deliberation: Honestly, even with Google I can’t find anything for diplomats beyond “
definition of …” one-liners, and pretty much all of those suck. With lawyers, you can run wild. In fact, the meaner the joke, the louder everyone laughs (well, except the lawyers themselves; we cry ourselves to sleep).
Resolved in favor of: LL (sniff…sniff…)
What Hollywood thinks the Profession is Really Like
Case for LL: Several types. You have your folksy good-guy. You have your doucheba
g shark. You have your ambitious public prosecutor and your overworked public defender. You have Richard Gomez in “Your Honor”. In all cases (
har!), everything will be neatly resolved in a big courtroom scene without so much as a law book opened or a brief photocopied. Furtherheretomore, a witness will always break down on the stand, a trial lawyer will always have a sharper eye than a field investigator, and no weight of evidence will ever, EVER prevail over a kick-ass closing argument.
Intervention for DD: Fairly positive. As far as I can remember, Hollywood has always depicted diplomats as money-laden, cigar smoking, British-accent speaking intellectuals who manage to save the planet from World War III during dinner parties. More recent movies like “The Constant Gardener” and “Rendition” have shown a grittier side to diplomacy, but even then the diplomats came out as warm, fuzzy, idealist heroe...
...hm? What’s that? Check out “Lethal Weapon II”?
[Rudd fires at Riggs, hitting him several times. Riggs falls, writhing in pain. Arjen's gun clicks 
empty. Roger aims at him]
Roger Murtaugh: [shouting] DROP IT, ASSHOLE!
Martin Riggs: [weakly] Rog...
Arjen Rudd: [holds up his wallet] Diplomatic immunity!
[Roger slowly rolls his head on his neck, takes aim, and fires - his bullet goes through Rudd's wallet, and then his head]
Roger Murtaugh: It's just been revoked.
Deliberations: GodDAMMIT, Mel!!! The diplomats were about to lock up this category! You just had to blow your nose with the Vienna Convention, didn’t you?! Now even Jack Bauer is shooting up the Chinese Consul General and Bad Boy Will Smith is all, ooooh, let’s invade Cuba because we can’t wait for backchannelling. We have protocol, boys, protocol!
Resolved in favor of: DD. Just now realized, “Protocop” would be the most awesome summer blockbuster ever.
Recurring Appearance of Profession in a Marvel Comic
Case for LL: Matthew Murdoch. Lawyer. Blind man. Daredevil.
Case for DD: Hugo Kostas Natchios. Diplomat. Ambassador. Whipped husband who isn’t sure if he’s the real father of Elektra.
Deliberations: By all accounts, Natchios was the Doug Christie of the Marvel Universe. His wife did not hide a series of extramarital affairs, and diplomatic circles openly questioned
his ability to manage the world when he couldn't manage his own house. Plus his daughter was being doinked by Atty. Daredevil. Even Natchios’ entry in the Marvel Encyclopedia was pathetic:
Powers/Abilities: Hugo had no superhuman powers. He was wealthy and employed several bodyguards, and he had unspecified diplomatic skills.
Unspecified diplomatic skills?!? I’m sorry, I understand you’re just the father of the superhero and have no superpowers of your own, but if even at your real job no one knows what it is you bring to the table, you must flat out suck.
On the other hand, Daredevil was played by the guy who appeared in “Gigli.”
Resolved in favor of: LL. Whatever else you have to say about Benny boy, he was once married to Matt Damon.
Most Hilarious Use of the Profession in a Song Lyric
There's a doctor livin' in your town
There's a lawyer and an Indian, too
And neither doctor, lawyer nor Injun chief
Could love you any more than I do . . .
Tell the doc to stick to his practice
Tell the lawyer to settle his case
Send the Injun chief and his tommy-hawk
Back to little Rain-In-the-Face
'cause you
Know! Know! Know! it couldn't be true
That anyone else could love you like I do . . .
She used to be a diplomat,
But now’s she’s down the laundromat . . .
Deliberations: Basically, what Ol’ Blue Eyes is saying, not only can he love my woman better than I can, he’ll be totally politically incorrect while he’s at it.
Still, let me run that Spandau lyric by you again:
SHE USED TO BE A DIPLOMAT, BUT NOW SHE’S DOWN THE LAUNDROMAT.
I…I…don’t know what else to tell you.
Resolved in favor of: DD. Kemp and co. even had to add the following line “…they washed her mind and now she finds it hard…”. You know, in case the laundromat metaphor was too subtle for the 80’s.
SO AFTER ALL THAT, ONCE AND FOR ALL, WHAT WOULD YOU REALLY RATHER BE, A LAWYER OR A DIPLOMAT:
A Jedi.
