Five days after my Call to the Bar, I found myself in a law firm’s interior office, devoid of windows, staring at a blank notepad and wondering whether anyone could see how utterly lost I felt.
They assigned me to commercial real estate, a field I barely knew aside from a few articles I read for the Bar and one title search with an associate at the local Land Registry Office.
I was starting to get settled in when one of the firm's founding partners entered my office. He welcomed me warmly, told me that I would be reporting directly to him, and gave me my first job. A large commercial client had recently purchased a large piece of land—a former air base—and discovered that local zoning regulations were involved. He had barely signed the contract when he decided it was the right case for me to handle. And though I tried to explain how inexperienced I was in this domain, he smiled, congratulated me, and promised to be there for me if I encountered any "major" problems. Sleep did not come to me that evening.
By morning, my anxiety was at fever pitch; I waited in the firm’s reception area so that I could get to him when he arrived. I walked behind him into his office and sat down, and his surprise at me was clear. I attempted to convey that this kind of case was well beyond me as an attorney at this level and suggested that some other junior lawyers could provide more guidance than I could. He gazed at me with an inscrutable expression which sank my heart deeper. Job security seemed to be slipping out of my grasp on the second day only. After breaking the silence, he said, at last, “Did you go to law school?” “Yes, sir.” “Well then. You know as much as I do. Get to work.” That ended our conversation.
When I got back to my office, I half-expected security would escort me out at any moment. Where was I supposed to start? Maybe Mary, the receptionist, who had pointed me to a notepad, some carbon paper, and a bottle of White-Out[1], could have something to offer. How to research too much? Or maybe I should quietly decide to hide the sheer magnitude of how deeply overwhelmed I was? Sitting at my desk, getting ready to take those first uncertain steps as a lawyer, released an intensity of nerves that I hadn’t felt during the whole experience. Despite my nerves I “got to work” and figured it out and many years later I am still enjoying learning and welcoming new challenges. My advice to all new lawyers would be to acknowledge your nerves but be confident in trying to do the best you can with the knowledge you obtained from law school.
[1] Before computers were standard in law offices, work was done on paper: carbon paper created duplicate copies on a typewriter, and White‑Out was used to correct typing errors.
About the Author
Lou Milrad is a retired technology lawyer, formerly with a national law firm, and was, in parallel, the former Board Chair and CEO of the Greater Toronto Marketing Alliance, the regional economic development agency for the Greater Toronto Area. As editor of Thomson Reuters’ O’Brien’s Computers and Information Technology series, Lou now focuses on legal content development, selective consulting, and volunteer coaching for lawyers.
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