I went to high school so long ago that personal computers were not yet a thing. All of the students were required to take typing, which did not sit well with Gerry. He announced on the first day of class that since, as a man, he was never going to be a secretary, he did not need to learn how to type. He then skipped all of the typing classes for the entire semester.
So, here is the situation. I am closing a deal with a senior partner from one of Canada’s largest law firms. Let’s call him “Big Law Guy.”
I am a senior partner myself, but with a medium-sized suburban law firm. By definition, he is supposed to be smarter than I am and his junior is supposed to be fortunate to be working for him instead of working with me.
It is an incontrovertible fact that young lawyers destined for private practice arrive at law firms without much clue as to how to practice law.
A lucky few are welcomed into a structured environment where good quality training, mentoring, and resources are provided to teach them their craft and to maintain quality control and client service while they learn.
I am on a fifty-five day segment of a one hundred and eleven day geriatric world cruise. That is not the official title – the cruise line just calls it a ‘world cruise.’ But if you think about who can afford the time and money to be on vacation for that length of time, you can see why the average age of the cruisers is high enough to make me, at 68 years old, one of the youngsters.
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.