Back in the day when giant mastodons roamed the courtrooms, I applied for admission to the Connecticut bar. This involved completing a simple questionnaire, with approximately 4,796 pointed enquiries, not including subparts. The Examining Committee wished to know everything about me, such as whether I had ever served detention in elementary school.
Before taking on the questionnaire, I was warned. The single impediment to admission which would afford me no recourse, I learned, was to omit any salient information, or worse, lie about it. Fear of these repercussions caused me to confess everything: even the fact that I was fired from Baskin Robbins in 1973 over the catastrophic assembly of a banana split.
