WHEREVER YOU ARE READING THIS FROM – If you are a candidate attorney today, I’m guessing my empathy and sympathy won’t make you feel better. Nothing can. Describing the life of a candidate attorney is almost impossible, but I will try.
First of all, the title “candidate attorney” sounds way more glamorous than the reality of being one. Generally, these people kick off their careers by answering to “clerk!”
If I can be completely honest, aspiring lawyers do not kick off their careers. They get kicked. Every day. Proverbially, of course.
The transition of a final year law student into an article clerk is like the beautiful process of a larvae becoming a butterfly. Except in this case things happen in reverse. Not so beautiful.
One moment you are a legal eagle preparing for take-off. You know all the theory that there is to know. You’ve practised Harvey Specter lines from Suits in the mirror. You get your degree with pomp and circumstance and life could not be better.
And then you get squashed. Like a bug.
On your first day, your principal or directors welcome you friendly. You sign a contract agreeing to being paid too little.
You smile and wave, thankful for the opportunity to learn the tricks of the trade during your two year clerkship.
The trade, you discover, is not what you thought it would be. You are basically a glorified typist, only your life is not nearly as glorious as Berrill’s. Because Berrill the Litigation Typist earns enough to buy the copious amounts of alcohol one needs to cope in this industry – be it in a box. Chardonnay the Conveyancing Typist earns even more. As in she can afford glittery manicures and gym fees. You, dear clerk, cannot afford your rent. Or your cell phone bill. Or healthy foods.
So you stuff your face with bread. On good Sundays, you treat yourself to a cheese bun.
Come Monday, you put on a friendly face and face your clients. Gina is getting divorced from her @sshole husband, Dave. “He is not getting a cent out of me. Not a single cent! And he ain’t seeing the kids either!”
#rolleyes: Oh snap, oh snap. Judge Gina is in the house.
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You wish yourself luck – the challenge of explaining the nature of divorce proceedings and the concept of a magistrate’s authority lies ahead.
Next up is come local business tycoon who is buying his umpteenth property. He wants the transaction to register TODAY. You are the lucky bugger who tries to explain that it will takes at least three weeks – if the Deeds Office’s system is not down. And the system is down regularly.
You feel as angry as a System of a Down song.
Your boss is having a bad day. He takes it out on you, because that’s what you are there for.
By the eighth month you have picked up ten kilograms if you are the emotional eater I am. You don’t have cash for decent office wear, so you keep acting as if it is winter until December. That enables you to wear clothes that cover up the fat.
If you are not an emotional eater, you’ve probably taken to drinking, smoking or some other unhealthy way of coping.
One thing keeps you going: the prospect of being admitted as an attorney. Only it is not as easy as it sounds. Preparing for the four admission exams drains you. Deceased Estates was my nemesis – the inescapable agent of my impending downfall.
And I fell.
Three times.
After attending that fabulous oom’s classes.
He was brilliant. I just did not get it. I passed by grace but wills and testaments still give me a spontaneous skin rash. At least I can afford Allergex in my post-admission existence.
If you are a 2018 edition article clerk, you’ve just written your admission exams only to find that you have to re-write it.
Why? Because some *&^%$# leaked the exam papers. And other horrible idiots probably distributed it. The law society is investigating the incident. I hope they find those responsible and bar them from the profession for life. Ideally, their degrees will be stripped as well.
Not that it would help you, because your dark tunnel period has just been extended.
Cue more months of living on a scandalously low income. Cue more months of being the office skivvy. Cue more months of not knowing whether you will have a job when your clerkship ends. If you have not realised this yet, you have no guarantee of being hired by the firm where you are selling your soul.
Oh wait, sorry, you are not really selling.
You are kind of giving it away mahala in hope of a better tomorrow.
My dearest colleague, I hope things get better for you soon. I hope the profession starts paying its candidate attorneys a more decent salary, because no young professional can afford the two year torture. The only guys who find clerkship a breeze are those whose parents, relatives or friends help them out with a blue note now and then.
I don’t know how the rest of us do it. But we survive somehow.
I know you don’t really indulge in complaining, because you do not have the time. But today, take all the time you need. Be furious. Be disappointed, be sad. Hit something if you must, but please refrain from assaulting your boss, Berrill or Chardonnay.
I DECLARE TODAY “HUG YOUR CANDIDATE ATTORNEY DAY”
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS AN OPINION PIECE AND DOES NOT REFLECT ANY SPECIFIC EXPERIENCES OF MY OWN. I SURVIVED CLERKSHIP, SO WE CAN CONFIRM THAT IT DOES NOT KILL. AND YES, IT DOES MAKE YOU STRONGER.
P.S. MY PRINCIPAL IS A REALLY NICE GUY.
