A New Year, A New Me!

As I may have mentioned in my previous posts, Kris and I have been trying for a baby. Thus far, we have been met with little success.

When we are with friends who have children, I often see a fatherly longing in Kris' eyes, much like the same ache and longing I feel to have my own child.

After we were married, Kris and I started trying for a baby. However, after six months of trying with no success, I eventually sought advice from a doctor. As my menstruation cycle was highly irregular, she suggested that I lose weight to assist with regulating my menstruation cycle. Scornfully eyeing my "jiggly bits", I resolved to lose as much weight as I could.

Although I had good intentions to lose weight, I never actually did anything about it. Sure, for the first week I ate lots more salad than I normally did, but after that week I just fell back into my normal eating regime of quick, fast and unhealthy food.

Before I knew it, 2011 had whirled past and 2012 was upon me.

Waking up this morning, I realized that I wasn't getting any younger, and if I wanted to get pregnant, I needed to take drastic action to lose all my "jiggly bits" and give my body the best chance possible in order to conceive.

So this afternoon, I signed up to a local gym with Kris. I even managed to convince dad to sign up too.

Together, we will keep each other motivated to lose weight. That's the plan, anyway. Fingers crossed.

The first date

My first date with Kris was awkward, to put it gently.

After meeting Kris at the nightclub that fateful night, we arranged to meet in the city a few days later. It didn't occur to me that 1 July was a bad time to have a date. Turns out that one should never plan to go out on 30 June OR 1 July when working in the commercial sector. This is because every single client wants some last minute legal transaction completed just prior to the end of the financial year. Extremely uncool.

Anyway, we'd planned to watch a movie and have dinner, and agreed to meet at 6.00pm in front of Starbucks in the semi-quiet end of the city after work.

Waking up on the morning of "the date", I immediately felt anxious, excited, scared and happy all at the same time.

I had already decided on an outfit to wear so I quickly showered and changed into my clothes. As I had no time to go home before "the date", I had to dress appropriately for work as well as "the date". So I had chosen a "conservative" mini-skirt with a bright watermelon-coloured top. I also had special "instant suck-me-in" shiny stockings, to complement my outfit.

Staring at myself in the mirror, fully dressed in my outfit, I smiled.

I look awesome, I thought.

I headed off to work.

I had almost reached my office building when I noticed that my "instant suck-me-in" shiny-stockinged legs were a tad bit cold on one side. Looking down whilst briskly walking in my shiny high heels and juggling a massive file I had taken home with me the night before, I stifled a cry of dismay as I noticed a ladder on my shiny new stockings.

$#!%, I thought.

Checking my watch, I decided I had enough time to quickly duck into the nearest pharmacy to buy a new pair of (not-quite-as-nice) stockings.

I chose the nicest and shiniest pair of stockings that I could find in the pharmacy. Hard stuff to do, especially when the pharmacy stocked only a handful of them.

I quickly paid at the counter and rushed into my office building. I dumped my file I had been carrying earlier and made a beeline to the ladies' room to put on the newly-purchased stockings.

By lunchtime I had almost forgotten about "the date". Almost. I was kept on my toes the whole morning, trying to complete last minute jobs that our clients required before the end of the financial year, and I was too busy to think about anything else.

At around 1.00pm, my stomach started making angry grumbling noises, so I figured it was a good time to take my lunch break. I purchased a sandwich from a coffee shop downstairs and proceeded to eat my lunch at my desk.

I was happily munching away on the sandwich when I dropped some lettuce on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, I happened to glance at my legs and noticed that my second pair of stockings had a ladder on them.

$#!%, $#!%, $#!%!!!! I thought.

Dropping my sandwich, I made a quick dash to the nearest grocery store and bought my third pair of shiny stockings.

Kris better be worth it, I thought, as I shimmied out of the laddered stockings and put on my new ones.

At 4.30pm that day, Delia casually sauntered into my office and asked me (not-so-politely) to commence drafting a lease for one of our major clients. She told me that the client was expecting the lease by tomorrow morning.

Glancing at the clock on my computer, I groaned. I was due to meet Kris at 6.00pm, but with the lease to draft up, it looked like I was going to be late for "the date".

I started work on the lease straight away.

At 5.45pm, I decided I had better call Kris and let him know that I was going to be late. I winced as I picked up my cellphone and dialled Kris' number.

"Oh hi Tia," said a feminine voice on the other line.

I was confused - did I dial the wrong number?

The feminine voice continued, "It's me! Leilani! Where are you? Kris is waiting for you right now. You should see his face - he's all red and sweaty. I think he's nervous to meet up with you."

WHAT? Leilani? What's she doing answering Kris' phone?! I thought.

"Ummm. Leilani? What are you doing on Kris' phone? I'm so confused", I managed to blurt out.

Leilani laughed. She said, "Oh, I was just walking past Starbucks after jujitsu training, and I ran into Kris. He said he's meeting up with you tonight. Then his phone rang and we saw it was you calling, so I told him I wanted to talk to you".

Still confused, I asked to speak with Kris. When he got on the phone, I told him that I was running late by fifteen minutes and that I'd see him soon. He was OK with it, and said that he would wait for me at the designated meeting spot.

After I got off the phone, I hurriedly put the finishing touches on the lease and scrambled out the door. Half-running and half-walking, dodging slow-walkers and trying to keep my stockings in check (phew! no ladders!), I managed to arrive in front of Starbucks at 6.15pm. I spotted Leilani talking with Kris and I approached them whilst trying to catch my breath.

Leilani wasn't joking when she said that Kris was nervous. His face was red, both of his hands were in his jeans pockets and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

As I greeted the both of them, I glanced over at Leilani thinking: geez, this moment is awkward enough without having my ex-boyfriend's sister witnessing it all!

Sensing her cue, Leilani gave me a sly wink and a knowing look as if to say "first dates are fun, aren't they?!", as she said her goodbyes and left me alone with Kris.

With a bit of shy chit-chat here and there, sprinkled with panicked silence, Kris and I managed to get through our first date disaster-free. We ended up watching a scary movie and then had dinner at a popular Chinese noodle restaurant.

After dinner, we awkwardly said our goodbyes and parted ways. Kris offered me a lift home, but I refused and told him I would find my own way home. After all, even though he seemed nice enough, I didn't want him to know where I lived until I knew he wasn't an axe-murderer or something worse.

As it turned out, it took five dates before I became comfortable around Kris and on the sixth date, I knew he was someone special.

The rest, as they say, is history.

The "meeting"

Looks like I've been M.I.A. again.

Not to worry, I will fill you in.

I'll start with the story of how I met Kris. I'd briefly summarised the story in my last post already, but the meeting had significantly changed my life and thus warrants its own blog entry.

It all started when my ex-boyfriend's sister, Leilani, called me on a Friday afternoon and asked me to hang out with her. I'd had a particularly bad day, with a crazy boss and all, so I didn't hesitate to accept Leilani's offer.

Leilani had just finished Jujitsu training and was keen to "wind down". She'd been doing Jujitsu for several years now, and had won several gold medals in various state and national competitions.

Leilani and I met up for dinner, and eventually ended up going to a south-side suburban night club to (as the young 'uns would say) "part-ay". We bought a few drinks and decided to start a game of pool.

Half-way through the game, a guy came up to us and asked us if we wanted to play pool with him and his two friends. His friends were nowhere to be seen, but he seemed friendly enough so Leilani and I agreed.

As the guy picked up a pool cue to start playing, he casually introduced himself as "Trevor". He took a shot (a bad one at that), and then his two friends magically appeared out of nowhere. Trevor's friends introduced themselves as "Phil" and "Kris".

It was obvious that all three of them were a bit on the drunk side, but they were quite funny and took it lightly when they lost the pool game (we trashed them, actually). They kept offering to buy us drinks and paying for extra pool games (all to no avail, of course, since Leilani and I possessed awesome pool skills).

Next door to the night club was another night club, which the boys wanted to go to. Initially, Leilani and I refused to go with them because, well, we didn't want to pay the entry fee.

If you must know, it's a stance Leilani and I had taken not too long ago - we believed that night clubs already obtained much revenue from the overpriced drinks they sold over the bar, and thus we refused to pay any sort of entry fee to get into a night club. That, and we were loathe to waste money on entry fees when we could be using that money on alcohol.

For some reason, Kris was really adamant that we come with them to the night club, and offered to pay for our entry fee. We refused, of course. But he was so damn insistent that we caved in after 2 minutes.

We walked over to the new night club and, as promised, Kris paid for our entry fee.

Once inside the night club, Trevor and Phil disappeared for a few minutes to "scope out" the place. Kris stayed back with Leilani and I, and we started talking.

Kris asked me what I did for a living. I told him I was a lawyer. He had a blank look on his face for a few seconds, then he said, "What? A liar?".

I laughed. He genuinely didn't hear my response properly, I could tell. I repeated my response and luckily, it registered the second time around.

"Well, I wasn't far off the mark the first time, was I?" he laughed.

I then asked Kris what kind of work he did.

Kris told me he was a printer machinist.

Now it was my turn to have a blank expression.

"Huh? What kind of work does a 'printer machinist' do?" I asked. In my head, I imagined Kris in front of a giant computer pressing the "print" button and him walking over to a gigantic Canon printer to collect his print-out.

He explained that he ran a printing press that could print anything from letterheads to business cards to cheque books. He said that he'd undertaken a four-year apprenticeship to obtain his tradesman qualification as a printer machinist.

I asked, "So you can print newspapers and magazines as well?"

He replied, "Yes, but only if I were using the right machine. Usually, to print a newspaper or magazine you would need a bigger printing press". It made sense, of course. But up until that point, I had never really thought about how newspapers, magazines or cheque books were even printed.

Kris seemed like a really great guy, and he wasn't sleazy or "overtly friendly", so I quickly warmed to him.

He said that he had moved from the country about 2 years ago, and that he was a "country boy" at heart. It wasn't long before we discovered that we'd both lived in the same country town (that I'd just moved from), and not only that, but he completed his apprenticeship a few doors down from my old work!

What a small world! I thought.

We somehow got to talking about great parties, and I mentioned that I'd never been to a party at a prominent night club in the city fringe called "The Wiki". The Wiki was famous for throwing legendary parties every quarter. However, with such a great reputation, only invited guests were allowed to attend the parties at The Wiki. Needless to say, I'd never been invited to a party there.

At this, Kris' voice perked up and he said, "My friend has a lot of contacts at The Wiki. She's invited me to attend the next party, but I wasn't really keen to go because I didn't think I would enjoy myself. Maybe if you came with me, it might be a different story?"

Was he asking me out?!

No wait, was he asking me out to go to a party at The Wiki?!?!?!?!

Playing coy, I replied, "Sure. Why not?".

I gave him my phone number and he promised to text me details about the next Wiki party.

By 3.00am, Leilani and I were getting tired, so we decided to bid the boys farewell.

I had sobered up quite nicely whilst talking with Kris inside the night club, so I was prepared to drive home. As I started the engine, the boys appeared next to my car. Without asking me, Leilani offered the boys a ride home. They all eagerly accepted.

I figured, What the hell? They say they just live down the road anyway. If try anything funny, Leilani can whoop their butts.

So Trevor, Phil and Kris all hopped into the backseat of my mini four-wheel drive, and I drove them home. They really did only live down the road.

When Kris got out of my car, he stopped by my window and leaned inside. He said, "Can I have your cell number?"

"Ummmm. I gave it to you already", I replied.

"But I can't remember where I put your cell number in my phone!" he wailed. At that, he whipped out his cell and started going through his contact list, to see which one was my cell number.

Sighing, I gave him my cell number again.

"You better take good care of that phone number, because I'm not giving it to you again!" I warned.

When I got home an hour later, Kris texted me to say that he was glad we met, and that he had taken good care of my cell number. I was too tired to text back.

When I woke up a few hours later, I checked my phone to find another text message from Kris.

It read:

I know we've just met, but I was wondering if you'd like to come out on a date with me sometime? I really like you and I really enjoyed meeting you last night.

Awwww how cute, I thought.

I texted him back, saying:

Of course! Aren't we going to the Wiki party? We could catch up then?

Kris messaged back a few minutes later, saying he was keen to catch up before the Wiki party.

Hmmmm. Should I? I contemplated this question for hours.

In the end I decided, Why the hell not? It wouldn't hurt to go on one date, right?

I texted Kris back and said, "Yeah, sure. When and where? I'll leave it up to you".

An update

It's been a long time since I'd written my last post.

A lot has changed since then. So I'll start from where I left off.

I started work with Delia within two days of me moving from the country. On my first day at work, Delia asked me to stay back and finish some work on one of her files. Wanting to make a good impression, I (half-heartedly) said "yes". Had I known I would stay back until 8.30pm that night, I might have thrown the file at Delia and screamed, "hell no!".

My first day at work was a good indication of how the rest of my working life with Delia eventually panned out. I should have known that working with Delia would be extremely painful. Not only was I overworked on my first day at the job, but, as I found out shortly thereafter, Delia was:

1. a control freak;

2. a control freak; and

3. bossy.

After working with Delia for two months, I began to feel like I was morphing into a useless lump. She constantly degraded my work - not only in private, but also in front of other staff. In one particular instance, she started shouting at me in front of the other junior solicitors about the state of my files.

Annoyed and embarrassed by her display, I replied, "whatever". I then told Delia that the main office was not the place to discuss this issue, and said that I wanted to talk to her in her office.

So we both marched off to her office and started a shouting match.

So loud was our verbal exchange, that one of the senior associates closed Delia's office room door with us barely noticing.

Despite our shouting match, I left Delia's office feeling misunderstood and doubting myself.

Was it OK for Delia to shout at me in front of other staff?

Is this how other junior lawyers were treated at this firm?

After that incident, my working relationship with Delia deteriorated. I loathed her with a passion, as she relished in her "superiority" over me. If I gave Delia anything to sign off for, it would always come back with some sort of "correction". Nothing that I did was ever good enough for her.

I desperately wanted to resign, but I felt that I was morally obliged to Rai (for referring me to this job) to carry on. I felt like if I resigned, I would be disloyal to Rai and give Rai a bad name. That was the last thing I wanted to do, since Rai was such a good friend to me.

So I swallowed my distaste for the job and kept working with Delia.

It was a terrible time in my life, and the worst part was I didn't (no, couldn't) let Rai know how I was feeling.

It was not uncommon for me to work 14-hour days.

When one of our biggest clients purchased a commercial high-rise in another city, I was put to work to complete the transaction. One night during this period, I was forced to order pizza into the office at 10.00pm, just so I could eat my dinner.

As you can imagine, I quickly became depressed and moody, and my confidence plummeted to an all-time low.

It didn't help that, at the same time this was all happening, my ex-boyfriend (who I started to become friends with after moving back to the city) was acting like an insensitive brat.

It felt like my whole world was swiftly falling apart and I was too slow to pick up the pieces.

After a particularly busy and stressful Friday afternoon, my friend Leilani (who also happens to be my ex-boyfriend's sister - how's that for weird?) called me and asked me to come out with her. I didn't hesitate. After all, I figured I could use a drink (or ten!) after such a hard day.

I met up with Leilani for dinner, and then we headed out to a south-side suburban bar for drinks. We drank, danced and met new people. It was a great distraction for me. I even met a cute guy, Kris.

Around about my first year anniversary after starting work with Delia, Rai called me for a quick chat. He prattled on for a while, telling me about his next big business venture, and I dutifully listened to his grand plans whilst I imagined myself crawling into a big cave and weeping until there were no more tears left to cry.

As if sensing my despair, Rai asked me how I was going at work.

I don't know what made me do it, but I soon found myself confessing to him that I disliked working with Delia (amongst other expletives).

After a short pause, Rai replied, "Then why are you still working there?"

Relief flooded over me. Rai's not mad at me!

I told Rai everything. From being overworked on my first day at the job, to being constantly humiliated in front of other staff. Rai was sympathetic to it all and even confessed that he didn't like Delia much either.

In retrospect, I don't know why I didn't talk to Rai sooner about my hatred for the job (or, more specifically, Delia).

Within a few weeks of my chat with Rai, I resigned. Interestingly enough, Delia asked me to withdraw my resignation twice. Confused by her reaction (I thought she would be happy to get rid of me!), I said I would think about it. But after speaking with my parents, Rai and Kris (my newfound boyfriend - more about this later), I decided to proceed with my resignation.

It didn't matter that I didn't have another job to go to, or a plan on what I would do with my time until I found another job. All I knew was that I didn't want to work with Delia anymore.

My last day working with Delia was absolute bliss. I knew that once I walked out the office doors, I would never have to put up with Delia's crap anymore.

Whilst I was packing away my things, Delia came into my office to give me a small parcel. Surprised, I opened the parcel and found an Oroton purse. I looked up at Delia, who looked sheepish as she said, "I know that you can never go wrong with Oroton". At that, she walked away.

I didn't actually leave the office until about 7.00pm on my last day. I wasn't expecting any different anyway.

However, walking out the office doors for the last time, I knew that my life would change.

Since then, I've never looked back.

Over the next couple of weeks, I half-heartedly applied for jobs. It didn't particularly bother me that I had no work because I had a comfortable amount of savings in my bank account - partly because I had no time to spend my money whilst I was working with Delia.

I refused to apply to private law firms, but I knew if my job-drought kept on long enough, I might be forced to do otherwise. But for the meantime, I was happy to apply for government jobs and in-house counsel jobs.

One of the jobs I applied for was at a community legal centre ("CLC") in the outer fringe of the city. The job advertisement specified that the CLC aimed to assist the disadvantaged members in the community.

How good would it be to work for an organisation like that? I thought, as I carefully answered the selection criteria and "tidied up" my CV. I submitted my application shortly thereafter.

It didn't take long for me to get a call-back and before I knew it, I was sitting on a big red couch in the CLC building, waiting to be interviewed.

Looking around the reception area, I took a mental note of the different atmosphere in the office, compared to the office where I previously worked. For starters, the CLC reception area had a big comfortable red couch to sit on, brightly coloured walls, and plenty of colourful pamphlets and fact sheets that screamed, "Read me!". It was completely different to my previous work, where everything was clinical white and almost museum-like.

The interview went well, I thought. I was interviewed by a panel of three - the co-ordinator of the CLC, a board member of the CLC and a well-respected CLC solicitor (who, as it turned out, didn't work for the particular CLC that I had applied for, but had been in the CLC industry for a while).

Walking out of the CLC building after the interview, I felt great. The organisation sounded like they treated their staff well, and everyone I saw in the CLC building seemed really friendly and happy.

Even though I was comfortable not working for another few weeks, I thought it would be great to bag this job, or work in a similar place.

Not long after the interview, the CLC co-ordinator called me on my cell and offered me the role as Principal Solicitor of the CLC. I was absolutely rapt and completely surprised.

Clearing my throat, I used my most "professional-acceptance-of-job-(OMG-did-I-just-get-the-job?!)" voice, and did a little victory dance on the spot.

I started work a week later.

It was completely mind-blowing how different the CLC environment was, compared to the two private law firms I'd previously worked for. I found that everyone was so laid-back but hard-working at the same time.

For one thing, there were only 15 people who worked at the CLC. There was only one other solicitor who worked there, and her name was Jane. She was in her mid-40's and had been practising law since 1998. However, she gave birth to her daughter not long after she started to practise, and had been working on and off ever since. As a result of her sporadic work history, Jane had yet to obtain an "unrestricted" practising certificate until she remains in continuous practice for two years.

I had only recently obtained my "unrestricted" practising certificate, but, as it turned out, I was more "senior" than Jane because I had been practising full-time for the last three years.

On my first day at work, Poppy, the CLC co-ordinator, explained that I had to "supervise" Jane's work until she obtained her "unrestricted" practising certificate. The first thing that came to my head was, "Me? Supervise?? REALLY??".

As if sensing my thoughts, Poppy said, "Don't worry, Tia. You'll be fine".

The rest of the day went by smoothly and, to my amazement, I left work at 5.00pm.

A stark contrast to my first day at work with Delia.

Leaving the CLC building that day, I knew I was going to love working there.

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.