Diary of a law graduate

Barely Legal joins Justinian's team of bloggers ... A sense of failure sets in early ... Fluffing her way through VITs ... The cruelty of senior associates 

Ahh February - the month when clients decide they'd better do some work and fresh graduates march into the office in their shiny suits.

You've probably heard a graduate talk about their first year at a law firm. Typically it goes like this:

On day one, I was so very nervous about starting work. Thankfully, everyone was super friendly, mega approachable and I even get to have my own office!

I got to do meaningful work researching a section of corporations law for a partner.

Speaking of partners, I find them all so approachable. They take a real interest in you and your work!

Also we did half day of pro bono work with Community First legal centre. 

I also love the work-life balance in this firm. 

They say the same thing, I'm beginning to wonder if all of them are written by Edelman.

My graduate year was was entirely different.

Maybe it's because I graduated from law school at the worst time in living history to be a law graduate. 

My rotation started with a major litigation where we represented Deep Pocket Co.

On my first day a senior associate gave me a Very Important Task (VIT).

"Can you pick up an affidavit from Deep Pocket Co on Market Street and then file it with the Supreme Court?"

Senior Associates are like the middle child in a family. Wedged in between the over enthusiastic, but pretty useless, junior lawyers and demanding partners who are too busy doing BD, they are neglected and invariably become bitter and cynical.

Frequently, SAs deal with their self-esteem issues by giving juniors menial, impossible and sometimes bizarre tasks, and taking delight in watching us fail.

At least that's what I think they are doing when I have to pick-up a document and file it on the other side of town in 30 minutes.

By the time I leave it's already 4pm. Determined to do my VIT well, I sprint to Deep Pocket Co and jump into an elevator, but there is no button for level 12.

It turns out I'm in one of those fancy buildings where there are separate elevators for different levels. 

When finally I arrive at reception, there is no affidavit to be picked up.

"Sorry, the HR manager isn't in today," a receptionist advises, while looking me up-and-down.

To be fair, I look like a homeless person who got made redundant during the GFC and has been wearing the same suit ever since.

The second VIT allocated to me was to pick-up boxes of documents from the barrister's chambers.

The junior barrister is charismatic, incredibly clever and an OCD person's nightmare. 

He managed to deconstruct the brief we provided, with beautiful tabs and indexes, and pile them into his cupboard in no particular order.

It's a good thing he's a barrister for he wouldn't survive a day as a solicitor. He would use three different fonts when the firm typeface is Arial 11 and then leave the draft watermark on the final advice.

While pushing the trolley full of loose paper, one of the boxes cracked open and I ran around Martin Place trying to pick it all up. I think I may have lost a page or two. 

Week one: I cried twice (once at work and once while watching The Devil Wears Prada) and blasphemously talked back to the senior associate who gave me the impossible VIT. One thought stays in my head ... 

Would it be too bad if I quit now?