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.

Support Staff??!

At 9.00am today, I knew that my day wasn't going to get any better.

Don't get me wrong - I wasn't having a bad day because I had annoying clients calling me up every 10 minutes, but because the office "support staff" were annoying me. Even with my eyes glued to my computer screen at least 98% of the day, I could still tell that the support staff did jack-all around the office. Sweet FA, to be exact.

I was preparing a draft business contract for a major client, when two support staff casually walked into my office for a "chat". Not with me, of course. They wanted to chat to each other.

I should explain. My office is the farthest from the office manager's desk. It is also conveniently hidden away from all the partner's offices, and close to the toilets. With the secrecy afforded by the location of my office, the support staff often "wandered" into my room in pairs to offload their latest goss. This usually meant that I was "in" on the latest office affairs. Literally. But most of the time it was just very annoying.

Being a person who wants to get along with everybody, I usually let it go. Despite the fact that I was drowning in work, and the support staff weren't there for "support" (Hey can I get you to photocopy these please? *Disapproving glare*. Is it urgent? No? Then it'll have to wait.) I never once spoke of my frustration to management.

Until today.

I had a very urgent document that required delivery by 5.00pm. Failure to deliver the document by 5.00pm meant:

• the file would incur $250.00 worth of additional costs, which couldn't (rightly) be billed to the client;
• all relevant documents would have to be re-filed in the appropriate registry/ government office; and
• that I would be in a crappy mood for the whole week.

At 10.00am, I asked one of the support staff to type said document in preparation for delivery. Come 2.30pm, the document still hadn't been produced, so I typed it up myself (albeit in a very annoyed manner).

At 3.00pm, I then asked another support person (who didn't look overtly busy, by the way - unless you count "walking around mindlessly" as an activity) to deliver said document. I made it very clear that the document had to be delivered by close of business today. "Is it urgent?" was the response. Errrrrrrrrr. It's only urgent in the sense that if it doesn't get delivered, I'll kick your a*se from here to China - was my first thought. Lucky I didn't say it out loud. I'm too nice sometimes. I just nodded my head and walked away.

Assured that the document would be delivered in time, I lost myself in my workload.

4.55pm. The girl who was supposed to have delivered my document traipsed into my room and told me that the document didn't get delivered after all. She had something more urgent to do. "Plus," she added, "at 4.55pm, it'll be too late to try and deliver the document, because by the time I drive over there, the office would be closed." Oh too right. I guess it was a bit too late, huh? THEN WHY THE HELL WASN'T IT DONE EARLIER????!!

I was surprised at how calm I was. Don't get me wrong - I saw red. My eyes took on a murderous glint, and my facial muscles tensed and twitched. But I didn't shout, and, more importantly, I didn't kick that girl's arse all the way to China. I just sat on my chair, my mind working frantically to figure out how to solve the problem.

Oh Sh*t! I repeated over and over again.

While my brain was figuring out how what to do, the girl slowly inched away from my desk. Ever so slowly. I let her go. Like I said, I'm a very nice person.

My facial expression must've given away my innermost thoughts, when Stan (one of the commercial partners of the firm) walked into my room and asked if I was ok.

Taken by surprise, I replied: "Sure.. I'm fine. Why?"

Stan looked at me with eyes that said: Of course you're fine. You just look like you want to slit someone's throat. But yeah, ok. I believe that you're fine.

Stan cleared his throat and said, "Are you sure? You umm.. look.. upset."

Nice way to put it, I guess.

I told Stan how I was most likely going to unnecessarily incur costs on a file that couldn't be directly billed to the client. Despite me being absolutely pissed off, I just couldn't bring myself to "rat out" on the support staff.

Torn between loyalty to the girls, and my arse getting kicked by my bosses. Aggh!

Eventually, Stan coaxed it out of me. Unwillingly (and I stress this!), I told him what happened. Once I was finished with my story, he walked over to his computer (with me following - curiosity?) and he typed out a short e-mail to the office manager:

Tia needs to see you about some issues with the support staff & an urgent delivery that was never made.

I know the contents of the e-mail because he read it out to me one millisecond before he hit the "send" button.

Ahhh me and my big mouth. Shouldn't have said anything.

Where's the faith?

After almost 7 weeks of "Dan-drought", my phone rang at work.

"Hey Tia, it's Dan. I know it's been a while..."

Errrrr. Really? It's been 6 weeks and 3 days, to be exact. Not that I was counting. *Cough*.

"Hey you! Thought you'd dropped off the face of the planet. I'm guessing I didn't bag that job, hey?"

I just couldn't hide the dripping sarcasm in my voice.

"Oh. Yeah, the partners of that firm decided to hire someone with a little bit more experience. It dragged on for a while, didn't it?"

Not at all. Only 4 weeks and 5 days.

"Yeah, I sort of figured that I didn't get the job coz I haven't heard from you until now."

Blunt and straight to the point. Well done, Tia. Show him who's boss.

"Uhhmm. Yeah. Anyway, the reason for my call is because I've just been briefed on a new role that I think you would be interested in..."

Dan proceeded to tell me about a small suburban firm who was looking to employ a commercial property solicitor with the same kind of skills and experience that I possessed. It sounded great until he said there was a catch...

"Ok so.. this is kind of uncomfortable for me to ask.. but.. the partners of that firm require a person of.. umm.. how do I put it..? Someone with.. faith."

Faith? I've got faith. I believe in a lot of stuff.

"What do you mean, Dan?"

I could tell he was really uncomfortable. I could picture him squirming in his seat as he said:

"Well.. you know? Faith. Umm. Are you religious?"

I would've laughed out loud if I hadn't sensed how uncomfortable he was.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I go to church every Sunday, if that's what you're measuring by. And I pray every night. I'm a Catholic. Why?"

I heard him sigh with relief before he replied, "The firm does a lot of work for non-for-profit organisations. More particularly, a lot of church organisations. The partners want to hire someone who can empathise with their clients and their clients' beliefs."

Ok fair enough. Although I could understand why they would want to hire someone "of faith", it still struck as a little bit strange at the same time.

Oh well. I guess we'll see how I go this time around.