Just do the best you can ....
Much of the previous evening was spent in silent contemplation, staring up through darkness towards three softly glowing stars on my bedroom ceiling. A male adolescent who had just barely reached his teens had placed them there some fifteen years prior. In all frankness, I recall very little of this fellow, aside from his fondness for the night sky which had constantly proved an unparalleled source of mystery. Were the two of us to meet in the present day, it is unlikely that either person would hold the other in high regard.
In reflecting upon the BlueCollarLawyer of years past, the image brought to light is that of a young man with a penchant for contemporary English literature, short fiction and amateur astronomy. This person knew very little of law the law, aside from a few relatively mundane regulations relating to traffic infringements. Though ambitious, he was imbued with a humility that led him to learn patiently from those perceived as being possessed of greater wisdom, or life experience if you will.
Fifteen years on, it is remarkable how much has changed. Though the night sky continues to be source of mystery, it appears to hold little in the sense of inspiration. Questions remain as to the source of the universe and man’s purpose in life, but there is no real desire to see them answered. To some extent, a part of me has been afflicted with a horrendous condition – apathy. Despite this grave concern, I remain thankful for still retaining sufficient curiosity and zeal to ask one very simple question:
Out with the old ….
A few short weeks ago, I happened to chance across the post of a fellow blogger, a witty penultimate year law student with the University of New South Wales. In reading the article in question, I was led back to a rather tumultuous period in my life. Somewhat predictably, I am referring to the short months immediately preceding graduation from law school. Like most of my peers, I found myself afflicted with a disease that riddled the mind with ‘conviction’, as defined in the concept of ‘absolutes’. Put simply, I was ‘absolutely’ certain that a clerkship and/or graduate position with a top-tier law firm would prove the be-all and end-all of my career; I was ‘absolutely’ certain that failure would lead to a mundane existence in the suburbs, as exemplified in the image of a poorly dressed Legal Aid lawyer eating lunch out of a sardine can in front of the Family Law Court prior to making an appearance for a wife beater; I was ‘absolutely’ certain that a rejection letter would eventuate in mockery, derision, ridicule and humiliation from peers.
In drafting my numerous job applications, I slogged, slaved and sweated to put together beautifully worded resumes and cover letters. Preparation took place months in advance, with countless hours spent pouring over firm websites. Glossy brochures from big city law firms littered my desk, each graced with the heavenly image of an aspiring female lawyer in a skin-tight Armani skirt. A few happened to smile mysteriously from behind steel-rimmed spectacles, as if protecting coveted treasures that lay hidden behind the faded covers of the Commonwealth Law Review volumes clutched to their bosoms.
Yes, it wasn’t to be. The realisation was swift and unforgiving, as is to be expected when reading the words “We regret to inform you ..”. Not “I”, but “We”. In my mind’s eye, I pictured several esteemed members of the legal profession huddled together around my resume, their beady eyes glittering with contempt as they tossed my hopes and dreams into a wastepaper basket. “Public school trash”, one would sneer … with several stunningly beautiful female HR managers nodding ferociously in unison.
In with the new …
Some five years after having completed my undergraduate studies in law, I look back upon the BlueCollarLawyer of years past and consider him to be quite the ‘tool’. It beggars belief that a person of even remote intelligence would allow law students, of ALL people, to dictate the measure of a person’s worth. Let’s simply say that the answer does not reside in employment with a top-tier law firm. Although your document shredding skills may improve substantially, your general ability to think ‘outside the square’ will arguably drop down several notches.
Having hailed from a family of over-achievers, my mindset during those final months of law school may be understandable. However, it is by no means forgivable. It upsets me tremendously that I was once so narrow-minded as to make the collective ambitions of a homogenous mob (i.e. the broader law student community) my own. If asked about my life’s aspirations, I no longer parrot the phrases “mergers and acquisitions”, “intellectual property” or “commercial transactions”. No longer am I naïve enough to believe that a particular discipline is automatically rendered “sexy” on account of being lucrative. If in doubt, ask an actuary or, better yet, a well-heeled plumber.
Most importantly, I have developed a sense of confidence and accomplishment which was sorely missing in my university persona. In answering the question of whether I am successful, I would be loathe to look towards my peers for the purpose of seeking a benchmark. Money is important in providing financial security and well-being, but little else. The targets which I consider worthwhile are of my own making, and not that of an equity partner whose personal wealth is dictated by the level of blood, sweat and tears discharged by underlings. This is not to say that I do not approach my work seriously. Rather, I do not consider it to be a means to and end. In the words of one wise friend, no intelligent person judges another on the basis of their chargeability, realisation rate, area of commercial discipline, income, ability to earn large bonuses etc. My most cherished possessions are trusted friends and family, not ‘letters of promotion’ marking my rise up the corporate ladder.
Several years ago, I jokingly asked a neighbour’s child - a toddler no less - whether she could explain, in her words, what she believed to be man’s purpose in life. After regarding me with a look of curiosity and suspicion in equal measure, she responded with “I dunno. Maybe you just do the best you can. Umm .. make sure you have good friends too.”.
I know for a fact that I’ll go my grave without anyone else having put it better.
Much of the previous evening was spent in silent contemplation, staring up through darkness towards three softly glowing stars on my bedroom ceiling. A male adolescent who had just barely reached his teens had placed them there some fifteen years prior. In all frankness, I recall very little of this fellow, aside from his fondness for the night sky which had constantly proved an unparalleled source of mystery. Were the two of us to meet in the present day, it is unlikely that either person would hold the other in high regard.
In reflecting upon the BlueCollarLawyer of years past, the image brought to light is that of a young man with a penchant for contemporary English literature, short fiction and amateur astronomy. This person knew very little of law the law, aside from a few relatively mundane regulations relating to traffic infringements. Though ambitious, he was imbued with a humility that led him to learn patiently from those perceived as being possessed of greater wisdom, or life experience if you will.
Fifteen years on, it is remarkable how much has changed. Though the night sky continues to be source of mystery, it appears to hold little in the sense of inspiration. Questions remain as to the source of the universe and man’s purpose in life, but there is no real desire to see them answered. To some extent, a part of me has been afflicted with a horrendous condition – apathy. Despite this grave concern, I remain thankful for still retaining sufficient curiosity and zeal to ask one very simple question:
“What is the damned point of it all?”
Out with the old ….
A few short weeks ago, I happened to chance across the post of a fellow blogger, a witty penultimate year law student with the University of New South Wales. In reading the article in question, I was led back to a rather tumultuous period in my life. Somewhat predictably, I am referring to the short months immediately preceding graduation from law school. Like most of my peers, I found myself afflicted with a disease that riddled the mind with ‘conviction’, as defined in the concept of ‘absolutes’. Put simply, I was ‘absolutely’ certain that a clerkship and/or graduate position with a top-tier law firm would prove the be-all and end-all of my career; I was ‘absolutely’ certain that failure would lead to a mundane existence in the suburbs, as exemplified in the image of a poorly dressed Legal Aid lawyer eating lunch out of a sardine can in front of the Family Law Court prior to making an appearance for a wife beater; I was ‘absolutely’ certain that a rejection letter would eventuate in mockery, derision, ridicule and humiliation from peers.
In drafting my numerous job applications, I slogged, slaved and sweated to put together beautifully worded resumes and cover letters. Preparation took place months in advance, with countless hours spent pouring over firm websites. Glossy brochures from big city law firms littered my desk, each graced with the heavenly image of an aspiring female lawyer in a skin-tight Armani skirt. A few happened to smile mysteriously from behind steel-rimmed spectacles, as if protecting coveted treasures that lay hidden behind the faded covers of the Commonwealth Law Review volumes clutched to their bosoms.
Following both the clerkship and graduate round for top-tier law firms, I was left desolate and dejected. Rejection letters from every conceivable firm littered my desk. The word spread ferociously, a quiet and conservative student assumed by all to possess “significant intelligence” had been left in the dirt. In contemplating the thoughts of our then Law Student Society (“LSS”) President, I knew that this perfectly proportioned Pymble princess of my penultimate year would forever remain outside my grasp. Never would the two of us inadvertently end up in a marble clad lift, plummeting upwards towards the heavens in the express lane for the sole purpose of finding a private meeting room in which to admire one another’s briefs.In the late evenings, I would hear them whispering in my dreams. “Come here and bill with us”, they would murmur seductively, “and together we’ll achieve 100% chargeability. If you show us your realisation rate, we’ll show you our utilisation figures”.
Yes, it wasn’t to be. The realisation was swift and unforgiving, as is to be expected when reading the words “We regret to inform you ..”. Not “I”, but “We”. In my mind’s eye, I pictured several esteemed members of the legal profession huddled together around my resume, their beady eyes glittering with contempt as they tossed my hopes and dreams into a wastepaper basket. “Public school trash”, one would sneer … with several stunningly beautiful female HR managers nodding ferociously in unison.
In with the new …
Some five years after having completed my undergraduate studies in law, I look back upon the BlueCollarLawyer of years past and consider him to be quite the ‘tool’. It beggars belief that a person of even remote intelligence would allow law students, of ALL people, to dictate the measure of a person’s worth. Let’s simply say that the answer does not reside in employment with a top-tier law firm. Although your document shredding skills may improve substantially, your general ability to think ‘outside the square’ will arguably drop down several notches.
Having hailed from a family of over-achievers, my mindset during those final months of law school may be understandable. However, it is by no means forgivable. It upsets me tremendously that I was once so narrow-minded as to make the collective ambitions of a homogenous mob (i.e. the broader law student community) my own. If asked about my life’s aspirations, I no longer parrot the phrases “mergers and acquisitions”, “intellectual property” or “commercial transactions”. No longer am I naïve enough to believe that a particular discipline is automatically rendered “sexy” on account of being lucrative. If in doubt, ask an actuary or, better yet, a well-heeled plumber.
Most importantly, I have developed a sense of confidence and accomplishment which was sorely missing in my university persona. In answering the question of whether I am successful, I would be loathe to look towards my peers for the purpose of seeking a benchmark. Money is important in providing financial security and well-being, but little else. The targets which I consider worthwhile are of my own making, and not that of an equity partner whose personal wealth is dictated by the level of blood, sweat and tears discharged by underlings. This is not to say that I do not approach my work seriously. Rather, I do not consider it to be a means to and end. In the words of one wise friend, no intelligent person judges another on the basis of their chargeability, realisation rate, area of commercial discipline, income, ability to earn large bonuses etc. My most cherished possessions are trusted friends and family, not ‘letters of promotion’ marking my rise up the corporate ladder.
Several years ago, I jokingly asked a neighbour’s child - a toddler no less - whether she could explain, in her words, what she believed to be man’s purpose in life. After regarding me with a look of curiosity and suspicion in equal measure, she responded with “I dunno. Maybe you just do the best you can. Umm .. make sure you have good friends too.”.
I know for a fact that I’ll go my grave without anyone else having put it better.
