Today I had to go gulp some nasty orange drink a la 1980s McDonald's with triple the carbonation for some sort of glucose test to make sure baby and I don't have diabetes (or as husband likes to say, "live-abetes," because there's no need to use such negative language), and then I had to hang out for an hour, then have a couple needles poked in my arm to test my orange-drink-ridden blood.
Well, nice, clever Mr. Phlebotomist pretended he had the shakes when he was putting my tourniquet on and then proceeded to get all chatty with me. Our conversation proceeded as follows:
Phlebotomist: So, what do you do for a living?
Me: I'm a law student.
Phlebotomist: Cool. So you're like a lawyer's assistant or something?
Me: No, I'm in law school.
Phlebotomist: So you're going to be a paralegal? That's cool.
Me: No, I'm in school to be a lawyer.
Phlebotomist: Like, real lawyers will let you help them?
Do you think I'd be more successful at avoiding this problem if I started calling it "real lawyer school"?