No Planning Involved

Some of you may remember one of my first posts about a "grand plan" to move back to the city.

Since that post, I decided that there was no need for such a plan, because "if it's meant to be, it's meant to be".

A few weeks ago, my best mate Rai told me that a big city firm was looking for a junior solicitor. Rai studied law and business at university - we actually met in a property law tutorial. When we graduated, he decided that he didn't want to become a solicitor, and made use of his business degree instead. A wise decision, it appears, since he is now raking in an impressive 6-digit annual salary with top-notch bonuses.

Rai is actually a few years older than me. He is also, surprisingly enough, quite a popular guy. So it didn't come as a surprise when he informed me that his friend, a senior associate at the city firm, was looking for a junior solicitor to help share the burden of work:

"Tia, this is an awesome opportunity. Besides, you need to move back to the city soon, otherwise you'll be a permanent country bumpkin!" was Rai's persuasive comment.

What the hell, why not? I thought.

So I sent Rai my resume, and he forwarded it on to his friend, Delia.

A few days later, Delia e-mailed me and told me that she had forwarded my resume to the HR department of her firm. She apologized for not contacting me sooner but said that she couldn't wait to meet me.

I was actually quite surprised because I didn't think I needed to go through the whole HR process, given that I had been "referred" by Rai.

Oh well, I guess it's better than nothing, I said to myself. At least I've got my foot in the door.. somewhat.

A few days after Delia's initial e-mail to me, the firm's HR representative, Marie, called me. We arranged for a phone interview to be conducted and, a few weeks after that, I was asked to travel to the city for a face-to-face interview with Delia and Marie.

I took a day off work so I could attend the interview.

On the day of the interview, I was a bundle of nerves. I was almost an hour early, so I said a quick prayer at the city cathedral before I made my way to the firm. As I walked in to the reception area of the firm, my mind was screaming - Holy cow! This place looks like a cross between a hospital and a museum!

There were paintings and sculptures everywhere, and the reception area had marble white floors and glass doors. It looked so cool but weird at the same time. I spoke to the receptionist for a few minutes and I was told to sit on a funky-looking white chair until Marie and Delia were ready to interview me.

The intervew went well, I thought. Marie and Delia asked the usual 20 questions, all neatly summarized by the one over-arching (but rarely asked) question - "why would we want to employ you?".

I was offered the job a week or so later.

When I resigned from my job, I cried because I felt so guilty and sad at the same time. No matter what, my bosses had been good to me the whole time I was there.

Time sped quickly by. My file numbers quickly diminished, and I stopped taking instructions to open new files. On my last day at work, I still had about twenty or so unfinished files, but I didn't really think much about it. I handed them over to my good friend and trusted colleague, Kelly.

We all celebrated my last day at work by going to the local pub for lunch. Afterwards, the girls at work organised a little "ceremony" for me, by getting my boss to do a speech (about how great I was, of course!) and giving me two farewell presents.

One present was from the partners of the firm - they gave me a pearl necklace and matching earrings.

The other present was from the rest of the staff. They gave me a solid silver bangle and earrings.

I was so overwhelmed, I started to cry.

My boss then started to tell everyone how I loved shoes, and how every time he saw me, he swore that he couldn't remember me wearing the same pair of shoes twice. He also said that, even though it was a sad time for him to see me leave, he was happy that I would move back to the big city where I could "indulge" in my shoe-loving ways.

Five o'clock came and went. There were many tears, I could tell you. One of my good friends and fellow colleague, Kelly, gave me a photo frame with a picture of both of us inside. She then handed me an envelope, and gave me strict instructions not to open it until I'd left town.

The next day, I finished packing up my things and said goodbye to the small country town that I'd called "home" for the past two years.

The drive back to the city would have been long and boring, if not for my dad who had volunteered to help me move and keep me company on the seven hour drive to the city.

After two hours of driving, dad and I stopped at a service station for a short break. Remembering Kelly's envelope, I grabbed it from my bag and ripped it open. I wish I hadn't. Inside was a card with the following message:

Dear Tia,

You have been such a good friend to me.

You had always told me that you would move back to the city, but I never thought the time would actually arrive when I would have to say goodbye to you.

I will miss our weekend get-togethers, and our 'crying' sessions when our files were too much to handle. I am so lucky to have met you.

I still can't believe how lucky it was that we started work in the same week, and that we ended up living one block away from each other! God surely blessed us by letting us meet each other.

I will always cherish the good times we shared. I'll miss you so much.

Remember to keep in touch.

Lots of hugs (and tears),

Kelly

As dad and I drove away from the service station, I clutched at Kelly's card and shed a few tears. But nothing could contain my excitement at moving back to the city. As hard as it was to say my goodbyes, I knew I would never regret leaving.

Let me set the record straight...

I recently read an article about the high suicide rate amongst young lawyers. A good mate of mine forwarded me the article via e-mail, and the contents of the article intrigued me.

A few days later, I "googled" the topic and my search query received a lot of hits.

This got me thinking about my life as a young lawyer. Although I do not agree with the idea of taking one's life, I can appreciate how all the stress, pressure, anxiety and pushy clients can drive a young lawyer absolutely nuts. Add to this a lack of regular social activity (more or less leading to feelings of loneliness and depression), long work hours and having to constantly battle with office politics - and there you have the life of a young lawyer.

Nothing annoys me more than when a non-lawyer makes insensitive and often unjustified comments about the legal profession. For example, some of the articles that I "googled" contained statements such as:

"It is no secret that they will be obliged to abandon any thought of a reasonable social and family life - though I do not accept the exaggerated claims that young lawyers are having to work 16 hours a day, seven days a week... Much of what they do, many of the sleepless nights spent preparing mountains of paperwork, are unnecessary, though the hours, of course, attract large fees. Contracts and other documents have grown in length and complexity not as result of legal necessity but because the new technology makes it so easy to copy, expand and multiply - at a price."

1. It is not an "unreasonable claim" to say that young lawyers work up to 16 hours a day, seven days a week. I myself have done this on several occassions - obviously not by choice, but out of necessity. I doubt the author of this article has ever come across a pushy major client who wants everything done yesterday - if the work isn't done immediately then you can kiss your job goodbye.
2. "Preparing mountains of paperwork" that are "unnecessary" - obviously the author of the article doesn't understand that the "paperwork", in most instances, is required by legislation to be prepared or if not, the "paperwork" must be generated to keep the client better protected against future legal risks.
3. "Contracts and other documents have grown in length and complexity not as a result of legal necessity but because the new technology makes it so easy to copy". A good contract should ALWAYS take into consideration ALL possible risks associated with a transaction so as to determine what can or cannot be done in the event that the transaction gets out of hand. At the risk of generalising, though in most instances, contracts are lengthy because all possible risks are taken into account and documented, NOT because technology "makes it so easy to copy". Surely this author doesn't think that all lawyers play trigger-happy with the photocopying machine?

And another example:

"In addition to money, lawyers crave the status and importance they place upon themselves and their profession."

This may be true for some young lawyers. But certainly for me, and for a lot of my lawyer mates, this is not the case. I have previously mentioned that young lawyers, contrary to popular belief, do not receive massive pay-packets at the end of each week. Further, there is little status or importance placed upon young lawyers amongst other legal professionals and especially by senior members of the legal fraternity. What must be understood is that a law degree, like every other degree, takes 4 to 5 years to complete. It is NOT easy to start from scratch - to go back to university and study for another 4 or 5 years to obtain a degree completely unrelated to one's original degree - all the while receiving little or no income. Hence the reason why young lawyers simply do not just "quit" the profession.

Non-lawyers often have misconceptions about the lives of young lawyers, and I do not blame them. TV shows, movies, newspaper articles - these mediums highlight a different side of the legal profession. Often it does not portray the difficulties and pressures that come hand-to-hand with being a lawyer. When I was studying law at university, I sported many misconceptions about the profession myself. But once I started practising law, I quickly learned otherwise.

I think the following quote brilliantly captures how I feel about being a young lawyer:

"The long hours... the responsibility of telling people the correct answer...If I miss something there is a tremendous cost to being wrong".

Nothing sums it up better than that.

Goodbye Lunch Buddy

When I first started working at the firm, I became good friends with Libby. I met her during my first week at work, whilst I was sitting outside the local motel.

You see, when I first moved to the country, I couldn't find appropriate rental accommodation, so I was forced to stay at a motel for 3 weeks until I found a permanent place to live. During my first week at the country, my parents visited me to help me find a place to live. They lived with me in my motel room for the duration of their visit.

Whilst they were staying with me, they scouted the town for rental accommodation during the day, and then they would pick me up after work when I finished. However, the day that I met Libby, my parents were running late to pick me up from work, so I walked to the motel and sat outside to wait for them (my parents had the key to the room). Fortunately for me, the 3-floor motel sported a pub on its ground floor, which was Libby's favourite place to hang out every Friday afternoon.

Libby walked up to the front of the motel and asked me if I wanted to join her for a drink. I must admit, I'd met so many people during my first week that I couldn't even remember who she was. If not for the uniform that she wore, I wouldn't even have known that she worked at the same place that I worked! Shyness overcame me and I declined her polite offer, and she walked inside the motel in to the pub to buy herself a drink whilst I stayed outside. My parents arrived almost 30 minutes later.

After that, I often looked out for Libby at work. I was so grateful that someone had attempted to become my friend in such a foreign place.

Libby soon became my "lunch buddy", and we would spend our lunch hour gossiping or bitching about stupid clients.

Libby was employed as the firm's estates clerk - she wasn't a solicitor because she didn't have a law degree, but she had the same responsibilities and client duties as would any other solicitor. She had been working in the estates area for several years, so she was a guru when it came to writing special clauses in Wills and Powers of Attorneys.

Everyone in the firm absolutely adored Libby because she was so good-natured and sociable, and all the partners spoke highly of her abilities to understand, cope and sufficiently meet the responsibilities of a solicitor despite having no legal qualifications at all.

During lunch one day, I told Libby of my plans to move back to the city. She was very supportive and offered many helpful suggestions. A few weeks later, Libby mentioned that she had been thinking about moving to the city too. She said that she had been wanting to move for a long time, but something always came up, preventing her from executing her plans. She never talked about it after that, so I was quite surprised when she handed in her resignation in early March this year.

On the day that she resigned, she ran into my office at around 9.00am and declared - "I have goss for you, Tia. I've quit my job."

I don't think my brain immediately registered what she said, so my expression must've been blank for a few minutes. Then my jaw dropped, I leapt out of my chair and wailed for what seemed like the longest 60 seconds of my life.

"What?! You're leaving?! Why? When? WHAT?! You're LEAVING?"

I was absolutely shocked.

I'd always thought that I'd be the first to resign out of the two of us.

Libby's face was streaked with tears, and her face was red. She sniffled a few times, and we both collected ourselves.

"I'm moving to the coast, about 2 hours away from the city. I think it's time for me to start a new life."

It took all my willpower not to cry on the spot. My lunch buddy was leaving!

Once the office staff found out about Libby's resignation, everyone started moping around. Even the partners looked a little down.

Libby took it hard. After all, she'd worked at the firm for a long time.

The partners helped her find a new job at the coast. Libby was hired almost instantly upon the combined recommendation of all the partners.

Her last day at work was on Friday, April 13. I don't think she got any work done that day, and neither did I.

The office staff asked me to select Libby's present on behalf of the firm, so I bought her some funky silver jewellery that I knew she'd like. I was also asked to give a speech in front of the whole staff about how much we were all going to miss her. Again, the exercise almost drained my willpower not to cry.

After all the speeches were done, and Libby was presented with the staff present, Libby went back to her office for the last time. I walked up behind her while she was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"Hey. I made this for you" I said with a shakey voice, and handed her a scrapbook full of our photos. Pictures of our escapades during work socials and every other outing that we embarked upon. I'd spent 8 hours the night before, scrapbooking all the photos so that it looked funky on each page. I also wrote her a "farewell" poem and I wrote it out on the front page of the book.

"Oh my gosh, Tia. You didn't have to.." and her voice trailed off as we both started crying.

We both knew that things were never going to be the same.

Goodbye, lunch buddy.

Nice No More

I've had enough.

I'm so sick of being nice.

I can no longer cope with the fact that the office support staff can take their 15 minute morning tea breaks, their full lunch hour and 15 minute afternoon tea breaks EVERY DAY, whilst I barely have time to blink my eyes for fear of losing one precious minute. I will no longer tolerate slack-arsed workers who think they're too busy if they can't check their hotmail account every 45 minutes. And "Can I do that later?" will no longer be an acceptable response.

That's right folks, I'm going to put my foot down. Starting Monday.

Actually, I've slowly started working my way to becoming assertive. Firm, but assertive.

Even Gary, the managing partner, has noticed a change in the last couple of days. When I was talking to Gary a couple of days ago, he briefly commented that lately, he has "noticed a certain air of confidence" about me. I didn't want to correct him, but the "air of confidence" is actually a shot of "I don't have time for 'no'. Just do what I say". Which is the attitude that I've started to adopt in the most recent of days.

For example, I told Delia to post a real estate agent's commission cheque to the agent's office via registered post at the beginning of the week. Surprise surprise - the cheque wasn't posted off until Thursday. Whilst I thought she had attended to the task, I received a rather nasty phone call from the agent asking where his commission cheque was. When I checked the file, I found out the truth, and I had to profusely apologize to the agent for what happened. The agent was extremely unhappy and wrote me a very rude fax outlining his inner-most hatred for the situation. (Note the use of the word "hatred" - you should've seriously heard the agent's sarcastic remarks whilst I was trying to explain what happened. He then ranted on for ten minutes about how he was going to have to explain why he wouldn't be able to pay his staff for another week).

Once I received the agent's fax, I put it on Delia's desk with the following note:

"This is what happens when you don't deal with cheques quickly."

Short and sweet. When I got back from lunch, the fax was on my desk with a new post-it note and the word "sorry" scribbled on the paper.

I marched straight up to Delia and told her that whenever I give her something to do with money, it must be done straight away. I explained that when it comes to money, people get "antsy".

I seriously didn't think she took it all in, until I gave her another agent's cheque to deliver that afternoon. In ten minutes, the cheque was sent off for delivery.

Actually, I'm quite surprised that Delia hasn't quit work yet. In my previous post, I expressed great concern over her ability to cope with her workload (ahem, workload?). Yet she is still working at the firm, and to my astonishment, she is actually trying harder to manage her tasks.

A fairy clap for Delia.

Hopefully the rest of the support staff will respond in the same way to my assertive-ness.

Only time will tell.

Need some Assistants over here...!

After five weeks of working as a conveyancer, my fellow office-mate Cathy decided that conveyancing was too stressful for her. Without even batting an eyelid, Cathy marched up to the firm's managing partner and the office manager, and she told them that she didn't want to be a conveyancer anymore.

Lucky for Cathy, the managing partner and the office manager were quite understanding, so they didn't fire her on the spot. Unlucky for me because, until the firm found a suitable replacement conveyancer, I got dumped with half of Cathy's workload. Another 2 solicitors shared the rest of Cathy's work.

Cathy still works in the firm but in a general administrative capacity. She now has time to make her coffee at 9.00am and 3.30pm, and still get home to her fiance by 5.15pm every day. I, on the other hand, barely have time to scratch my arse, let alone make coffee or take a five-minute breather.

Whilst I am happy that Cathy can "relax" and relish the fact that she is no longer "stressed" at work, I am equally annoyed that her inconsiderate actions and her inability to try to cope with the conveyancing workload has turned the firm into a complete chaotic madhouse, doubling everybody's workload in the space of 24 hours.

We were actually told that a new conveyancer would be hired quickly, and that the distribution of conveyancing work was only "temporary". Three weeks later, and I am still running conveyancing files. Aggh.

During the first week that Cathy "quit" the conveyancing cell, one new contract was dumped on my desk every 5 hours (or so it seemed). In that first week alone, I opened at least 16 new files. I nearly went insane trying to keep up with the work.

The second week was even worse. I came home crying from all the stress, and even tennis, computer games and smoking didn't help. There just wasn't enough time to finish all the work that needed to be done. During the second week, I worked 14-hour days without taking any coffee or arse-scratching breaks - a harsh contrast to the less-stressful life that Cathy leads now.

And my assistant was no help at all. Being a young lass of 19 years, Delia would rather gossip with other support staff, rather than help me out. I understand that she is young and gets paid pittance, however I don't think this is an excuse for her attitude problem that she occassionally displays towards others, including me.

I don't care if Delia gossips about the guy who works down the road and who eats his hair with honey, so long as she finishes all the work I give her. Unfortunately, my work never seems to get done and in more instances than I care to remember, I end up having to do the delegated work myself.

This week (the third week after Cathy "quit"), Delia decided that I was giving her too much work (even after I'd explained to her that EVERYBODY (excluding Cathy) was also feeling the same way). Delia cried twice this week because she said the workload was "a bit overwhelming". After her second sob, I was on the verge of screaming at her - "What the HELL do you know about stress, you lazy fool?! Just because you can't gossip as much anymore, doesn't mean you have an 'overwhelming' workload! You don't work 14-hour days and come home starving because you don't get to eat during work hours, do you? So shut up and DO THE WORK I'VE GIVEN YOU!" - Of course, I didn't say this, but, like I said, I was on the verge. Very close to.

I wouldn't be surprised if Delia quit work next week, following Cathy's footsteps.

Cowards.

I guess some people just don't know how to take it for the team.

Life as a Young Lawyer

Life as young lawyer definitely has its negative aspects.

I'll give you an example. It's a common misconception (by anyone not employed in the legal profession), that young lawyers "roll in dough" and are "rich". The way that some of my (non-lawyer) friends expect me to shout rounds of drinks at the pub, for example, puts the misconception into play. My friends think that I'm made of money, or that money grows out of my armpits/ bellybutton/ arse crack.

I used to think the same way when I was still in college studying law. I was so excited to graduate and start my job as a lawyer, naively thinking that my days of being a penniless student were going to be far behind me.

Oh how wrong I was.

Let me set the record straight. Young laywers are not rich. Far from it.

Considering the hefty college debt that I owe the government for studying law in the first place, coupled with reasonable daily living expenses, payment of weekly income tax and my seemingly endless list of debts that I owe my parents, I am, what you would call in layman's terms, broke.

That's right. Penniless, Lacking Dollar, Monetarily Challenged. However you want to put it.

I am actually staying home tonight - a Friday night! - because I currently have 74c to my name. (I suppose it doesn't help that the town that I live in only has a grand total of 3 night clubs/ pubs either).

My friends find it hard to believe that I can't afford to drink cocktails every night and that I can't indulge in whimsical purchases whenver I want. If I had a dollar for every time I've had to explain WHY I can't afford to do something, I'd be giving Donald Trump a run for his money by now.

Make no mistake, though. I like being broke. Reminiscent of my college student days, I'm always finding cheap yet creative ways to pass my time. For example - I now know of all the restaurants/ take-aways around town that sell $4.00 meals (not counting the happy meal!). And cheap Tuesdays - tried and tested by yours truly.

Not that I have much time to spend bucketloads of money anyway. Working 12 to 14 hour days, 5 days a week - I'd be lucky if I made it home with enough energy to cook dinner.

As a young lawyer, I'm constantly learning new things, and experiencing unique situations every day.

Having practised as a lawyer for almost 2 years now, I am getting better at assessing situations and sensing clients' unspoken instructions. I am also getting better at bullcrapping my way out of a "stickler" - so I guess some myths about lawyers are true.

I find that there are two kinds of clients: those that believe everything you say, and those that refuse to listen to anything at all. The latter kind of clients - the "Know-Its", as I fondly refer to them - can then be broken down to two further categories: 1. "Know-It's-True-But-I-Won't-Listen-To You"; and 2. "Know-I'm-Right-So-I-Won't-Listen-To-You".

Most "sticklers" occur when I see a "Know-It" client, however I have been known to bullcrap with the other sort of client too. Practice makes perfect, I say.

Don't get me wrong - I will only bullcrap if it is absolutely necessary. That is, when a client asks me a question that I don't know the answer to, and where I feel that the client will hit me with a club/ baton/ ironing board if I don't give them an answer straight away.

Speaking of clients, I might've mentioned before that I find it difficult to handle sensitive clients. I guess I failed to mention that I also find it awkward to deal with clients who are at least 40 years my senior. It kinda feels like telling your mom, dad, grandma or grandpa that you know better than them on how to handle certain situations - it's a really odd feeling.

I'm sure at one stage of our lives, we all thought that we knew the answers to life. Certainly, I thought the same in my younger days. I was adamant that I knew what to do with my life and how to go about living my life, that I barely heard the whispered cries of my parents telling me to slow down.

Now that I'm a little bit older, I can appreciate the wisdom of my elders.

And now that I can appreciate the wisdom of my elders, I find it ironically weird to tell my older clients what to do.

The ONLY up-side to being a young lawyer is that I sometimes get free lunches/ dinners/ drinks. Note the deliberate use of the word "sometimes".

Contrary to popular belief, lawyers don't always have 5-hour lunches and go interstate/ overseas/ across the border to stay in 5-star hotels at the cost of their clients. Well, not young lawyers anyway.

Hopefully, in 10 years' time I will be able to report that my work has taken me to Shangri-La Hotel in Hawai'i or the Flamingo Sheraton in Las Vegas. But I won't hold my breath.

Valentines Day Agony

I hate Valentines Day.

Or, more precisely, I hate being single on Valentines Day.

I walked into work this morning, hoping to avoid the "morning rush deliveries" of flowers/ candy/ chocolates/ love-heart pillows/ enormous cartoon-shaped love balloons. I'd only ever received one special delivery at work, and I think it was because my "secret admirer" (aka my ex-boyfriend from 5 years ago) felt sorry for me. Nevertheless, I still felt like a princess when I received the teddy bear and flowers that were delivered to me.

Anyway, I hadn't spoken to my "secret admirer" for at least 12 months, so I wasn't expecting any special deliveries this year.

As soon as I sat down in my office, I heard squeals of delight from outside my door. Curiousity piqued, I went to see what was going on, only to discover that a fellow office-mate had received some Valentines Day goodies from her "love-shnookem" of 5 months.

Oh geez, shoot me now. If it's going to be like this all day....

After all, there were another 39 other office girls who were waiting with bated breath for an "unexpected" delivery to come their way.

Ten minutes later, another office-mate started giggling hysterically when the florist delivery man arrived with a bunch of red roses for her table. Again, received with love from her (surprise, surprise) "hunny-bunny" of 8 months.

5.00pm - where are you?!

Don't get me wrong - I'm not against the idea of Valentines Day. I just don't like the feeling of being unloved (or un-flowered/ un-candied/ un-ballooned) while everyone else around me scored goodies. It must be girl thing.

I stayed away from the main office area as much as I could. As soon as the third set of flowers got delivered at 8.14am, I bundled up my laptop, an armful of files and my notepad and took refuge in an empty interviewing room upstairs from the main office.

Unfortunately, my laptop only had 2 hours' battery life, so at around 10.30am, I had to migrate back to my office. Even more unfortunate, I had to walk through the main office area to get back to my room. Which meant that I saw all the colourful flowers and deliciously wrapped candy/ chocolates that had been delivered so far.

What was even more depressing was the fact that Roland, the senior partner, received a delivery of yellow roses. From his lovely (and obviously very thoughtful) wife.

Seeing deliveries for the office girls was one thing. But witnessing the delivery of flowers for a male partner was something totally different altogether. Again, don't get me wrong - it was really cute that Roland got flowers for Valentines Day. It just meant that I felt more "unloved" (a guy? an OLD guy? getting flowers? and I haven't even got a whiff of a text message saying "Happy Valentines Day"?!) - I didn't think it was possible, but there you go.

I seriously don't know how I got through the morning - what with the squeals, giggling and unwrapping of candy.

By 3.00pm, I was on the verge of going nuts.

Just ignore them, Tia. Flowers and chocolates don't mean anything. Being single is cool! Remember that. Hurry up, 5.00pm!

The minutes ticked slowly by. Love notes started floating around the office. ("Oooh I wrote my hunny a letter of appreciation for the flowers he gave me today. I'm going to make him read it while we're having a romantic candlelit dinner tonight. You wanna read over it? You think it's too corny? Come on, tell me what you really think..")

Just when I thought I was going to lose my cool, my cell beeped.

I'd received a text message:

"Hey babe. Just wanted to wish you a happy valentines day. Hope you're having a great day. P.S. I miss having you around."

The love-of-my-life come ex-boyfriend from 2 years ago. We'd broken up when I first moved to the country, but we still kept in touch.

That one text message made my whole afternoon seemed a lot more bearable.

Lucky it was already 4.47pm.

One Down, Five To Go...

Gary wrote me an e-mail today, chasing the progress of the files that he so generously passed to me late last week.

Truth to tell, I had only looked over two of the files. I didn't have time to do much else (I mean, it's not like I don't already have 97 files to my name already, you know?).

But I don't think Gary understood that.

I went to Gary's office to explain the situation to him, but he wasn't around. So I buried myself in my work.

At 3.00pm, I received the following e-mail from Gary:

Tia, I asked you to see me about those files. I haven't heard from you. What's going on?

My first thought was - You've got to be joking, right? Followed immediately by - I tried to see you already, but you weren't around! You were probably off at the gym while I was looking for you.

I should explain. Gary is the managing partner of the firm. He's still technically a solicitor because his practising certificate is up to date. However, he hasn't practised law in almost 15 years. He can give very general legal advice, but his legal knowledge isn't crash hot. So you might be wondering why he's a partner? (Don't worry, I did too, for a while).

In actual fact, the firm benefits from his social and people skills & not his ability to practise the law - that is, he brings in a lot of clients (in other words, he's good at sucking up to people).

I haven't seen Gary do any work since I commenced employment at the firm. I mean, he sits at his desk all day and if he's not drawing pictures on his notepad, he's reading the newspaper looking for tide times (he's an avid fishing fan) or he's eating some kind of smelly sandwich. He is also known to take 2 hours of the working day to go to the gym or pick up a bucketload of shrimp from the fish shop located 40 minutes away.

Usually he's an easy-going kind of guy, but sometimes Gary can be a real pain in the arse.

Today was one of those days.

Because Gary hasn't been "in the game" for a long time, I think he finds it hard to sympathise with the workload that the young lawyers often have to wade through. When I try to tell him how busy I am, he would brush it off by saying, "No one's busy. It's all in the mind."

Anyway, as soon as I received Gary's e-mail, I marched straight over to his office. He was sitting comfortably in his padded chair, picking at a tuna sandwich. Not a hint of stress on his face.

As I walked into the room, the smell of the tuna overwhelmed me.

"I went to your office this morning but you weren't around. I've only looked over 2 of the files you gave me because I had other urgent stuff to do." I finished the sentence with my eyebrows raised, as if to say "You got a problem with that?!"

Gary looked up at me and leaned back in his chair, tuna sandwich in hand.

"I did say that some of those files were urgent, Tia. So you're telling me that you've only looked at 2 of them? Which ones?"

AGGGHHH you lazy prick! Maybe you could start running your own files, instead of palming work off to other people!

"Starn and Gavey. I know you said that Gavey was urgent, but I had other files that required more urgent attention. I've just finished Gavey today, and I'm due to see Jerry about the file before I send out my advice to the client."

Jerry is a commercial partner at the firm. Besides Roland, the senior partner, Jerry would have to be the most sought-after lawyer in town.

Both Roland and Jerry possessed the same analytical skills, sense of humour (although Roland, being the older partner, could come up with a few dry jokes at times - fondly known as "dad jokes" or "old people jokes") and they both knew how to handle clients.

Being a young lawyer, I find it hard to deal with extremely sensitive or irrational (ie, not-so-bright) clients. Sometimes I feel that clients don't take me seriously because I'm so young. (Well, if you consider 24 as being young).

But one word from Roland or Jerry, and even the most irrational of clients would just keep their mouth shut and abide by the advice given to them. I wish I could have the same impact with my clients.

The only difference between Roland and Jerry, is that Roland is an academic. He thinks and talks like an academic, throwing precise case names and sections of legislation into a normal conversation. An absolutely brilliant man, Roland knows the law back to front, inside and out. Whenever there's an issue that couldn't be solved, the person to call upon would be Roland. This is because he thinks on a theoretical as well as a practical level.

Even Jerry, with his vast intelligence, would seek Roland's advice before proceeding to run an "egg-shell" matter. [Terminology lesson 1: "Egg-shell matter" means a very complicated or extremely risky case. Usually, the firm only takes "egg-shell matters" if the client is a major client who has the money to pay the account at the end of the day].

The only downside, of course, is that because Roland knows so much about everything, he would take at least 3 hours to explain everything to you, if you asked him a question. Which is great, if you had the time. But from a practical point of view, if you wanted a question to be answered, and answered fast, you asked Jerry.

After explaining my reasons for wanting to speak to Jerry about the Gavey file, Gary lost interest. He gulped down the remains of his tuna sandwich and dismissed me by turning his attention to his notepad.

I left Gary's office and went straight to Jerry's. He was on the phone when I knocked on his door, so I waited patiently with the Gavey file tucked under my arm. Once Jerry had finished with the call, the phone immediately rang again. See what I mean by being one of the most sought-after lawyers in town?

After about 15 minutes, Jerry hung up the phone and deliberately kept the receiver off the hook.

"Hi Tia, what's up?"

Jerry's such a cool guy. He has dark brown hair with generous flecks of grey, and his deep but soft voice resonates throughout a room whenever he speaks.

"Hey Jerry. Gary wants me to action this Gavey file ASAP, but I know you wanted to see my letter of advice before it went out. Can you please look at my letter now so that I can send it off?"

Jerry motioned for me to take the seat opposite him, and he read over my advice letter carefully. Giving me the "ok" a few minutes later, I left Jerry's office to arrange for postage of the letter.

Gavey file finished. Only 5 others to go.

Can't wait til Friday. I'll definitely be hitting the pub after work.

"Faith"-ful Interview

DirectLink Dan had arranged for Ken, a partner of Starch & Rocher Solicitors, to call me at my lunch hour today. For an interview. Oooh.

My cell didn't ring until a quarter-past 12, though. Of course, it rang while I had just heated my lunch in the microwave and my fork poised above my dish in readiness to "dig in". Just my luck.

Despite the audible growling protests of my stomach, I answered my cell.

"Hello Tia. My name is Ken. I've had a quick glance over your very impressive CV, and was wondering if you had a couple of minutes to spare, to speak to me about the position that was advertised through DirectLink?"

Wow. He said my CV was very impressive. Not just impressive, mind you. VERY impressive. Double OoOoOo!!

I told Ken that I was free to speak to him, and he proceeded to ask me the usual "interview-y" questions.

Ten minutes into the interview, Ken cleared his throat and said, "Now umm. I don't know how to phrase this next question, so I'll just shoot. How do you think you would fit into our office environment, given that most of our clients are non-for-profit organisations, and particularly church organisations?"

Very nicely phrased. Not as much stuttering as Dan. Almost the same level of uncomfortableness, though.

I told Ken what I told Dan a few days ago. That I was raised as a Catholic, and had no problems working for faith-based organisations. That I go to church every Sunday.

Ken sounded impressed.

The questions petered out, and after another ten minutes, Ken told me that he was due to interview another candidate later in the week. I was told not to expect an answer about the position until early next week.

Oh well, I'm not fussy. As long as it doesn't take 2 months. *Ahem*.

After hanging up the phone with Ken, I bounded back to the lunchroom and eagerly picked up my fork to finish what I'd started 20 minutes ago.

Funny how hunger makes food taste 10 times better.

Over-worked & Over-stressed

I had to attend a work-related luncheon yesterday. The local lawyer's association held its annual general meeting and I, as a member of the association, was required to attend. Not only that, but three of my work colleagues were "tipped" to fill important positions within the association. So I couldn't really miss the luncheon. It also didn't hurt that the lunch was completely free (courtesy of the firm). Did I mention I loved free?

Two hours later, I went back to work. As soon as I walked through the door, the managing partner, Gary, ushered me into his office.

"Tia, I'm giving you a new file to work on. Umm. Actually, I'm going to give you six. But one's pretty urgent. It's urgent because the client is sitting outside in reception right now."

Oooh. A great time to have a mild heart attack.

Wait, I think I did have one.

WHAT THE HELL!?

"Ummm. Gary? Are you serious? I don't even know what the file is about!"

Gary's face said it all. He was damn serious. Not even a hint of humour in his expression.

"Tia, I want you to go out to reception and meet with this client. She is apparently very nice. By the sounds of it, she sounds like a paranoid old biddy. She wants to get out of a contract, and she wants to know how she can go about it."

Ok, calm down Tia. He's your boss, after all.

"Gary, I haven't even seen the contract. How am I supposed to advise her?"

Ohhhh my tone was crisp and even. Wonder if Gary caught on?

A pile of papers were pushed toward me.

Obviously, the contract.

OH FOR PETE'S SAKE! THERE'S MORE THAN 50 PAGES HERE! WHAT THE HELL??

"You should go meet with the client now, Tia. Come back and see me when you've spoken with her." And with that, Gary turned his back to me and started typing on his computer.

Fuming, I left his office and walked into mine. I stared in dismay at the bunch of papers clutched in my hand.

This is so unfair! I'm going to look like an idiot in front of the client!!

Usually I didn't mind meeting new clients. But I have never been unprepared for a meeting before. Most of the time, I knew what the problem or issue was, so I'd do a little bit of research or reading before I met the client.

Being unprepared at an initial meeting was definitely a big "no-no". It's unprofessional and it gives the client a license to think you're an idiot.

Hence the butterflies in my stomach when I walked into the reception area to meet "the old biddy".

It turned out that the old biddy, aka Mrs Starn, indeed was an old biddy. She was paranoid about a contract that she signed, and she wanted to know if she could "out" from the deal.

Don't people read what they sign these days??

After 45 minutes of listening to Mrs Starn's distressing tale, I told her I would have to read the contract before I could properly advise her of her rights.

I bid Mrs Starn goodbye and with a promise that I would contact her in the next couple of days.

Relieved that I had coped so well with the meeting, I walked back into my office for a breather. It was then that Gary walked into the room holding a stack of folders.

Oh no. What does he want now? I thought.

"Hey Tia, how did the meeting go? Good? That's excellent then. Ok listen, I've got a few more files to give to you..."

Five more files, to be exact.

As long as none of the clients were in reception, I guess I could live with it.