When I entered law school, each year the most powerful law firm in Montreal would obtain from McGill Law School the names of the ten students with the highest grades in their first year of law school and write to them to offer them summer jobs. I received such a letter when I completed my first year of law school in 1976.
Had I gone to law school a few years earlier, I would not have received that letter, because the firm extending it had made it a practice to exclude Jews from the program.
You may have heard the story about the flight attendant who assisted an elderly gentleman by giving him a pillow and a blanket, and then asked him if he was comfortable. The man replied, “I make a living.”
When I was young, my parents were not comfortable, but they insisted that I obtain a university education. They expected me to earn whatever I could in the summer to fund my education, and they agreed to cover the balance. Luckily, this was back in the days when university and law school were affordable in Canada.
We have all heard the expression, “write about what you know,” usually attributed to Mark Twain, who knew a thing or two about writing.
I don’t do that.
Sometimes clients call lawyers and announce what their legal budget is for a proposed project. New lawyers sometimes struggle to handle the situation because the scope of the work is uncertain or the proposed budget is insufficient to do the job properly.
The other day, my friend Martin, who was recently involuntarily retired from his law firm, was waxing eloquently, albeit somewhat sadly, on the topic of engagement rings and portable client bases. According to Martin there is a connection. Bear with me and I will try to explain.
I am on a cruise. A few days ago I was doing the tourist thing in Kauai, by which I mean that I was on a bus being driven around to see the sites and the sights.
The driver was an older gentleman who invited us to call him “Uncle Willie.” Uncle Willie gave us a great tour. He was friendly and knowledgeable and we had an excellent day. Especially compared to a day spent practicing law, or worse, attending a partner’s retreat.
I spent most of my career at Pallett Valo LLP, a medium-sized law firm in Mississauga, Ontario.
On my first day at the office, I met Mindy Dodds, a young woman who was initially assigned to be my Legal Assistant, but who soon became my Corporate Clerk.
Once there was a lawyer named Mark who considered himself to be an ‘idea man.’ Mark had a whole bunch of non-billable projects on his list of things to do, and he was always adding items to it.
I keep reading about mental health issues in the legal profession. Too many lawyers are terminally unhappy. The problem appears to be impossible to fix. Even The Washington Post just ran an article titled, “Want to be happy? Then don’t be a lawyer.”
Warning
This article has three parts. Do not act on the suggestions in the first part until you consider the advice in the second part and the rebuttal in the third part.
Part One: Murray’s Recommendations
Murray strongly recommends that articling students ask these probing questions and many similar ones before accepting a position: