6:30 am – crywank in the shower until I am sufficiently purged of all bodily fluids that will get in my way today. I am an unfeeling, unflappable, uncaring legal machine that won’t break down the minute I’m asked to fetch coffee for senior associates.
7: 15 am – peruse my selection of Van Heusen ties to decide which one will scream “I’m more important than you” when a court registry clerk refuses to accept my documents for filing because I once again filled them out wrong.
8:00 am – humour the basically skilled legal secretary by feigning interest in her life. This is a highlight of her day. A charity. I am a kind & benevolent god to her. I then email my friends so they can have a look at my email signature again. Restricted practitioner. Drink it up, plebs.
8:30 am – teeter on the edge of a full existential crisis after 5 Nespresso pods and an email from a senior associate demanding I come see her at once. I present to her office a clammy, shaking wreck. She passes me that coffee order I affirmed wouldn’t break me. It does.
11:30 am – spent the last 3 hours doing important legal research at the bequest of my supervisor – today’s topic is where she can legally obtain two Coldplay tickets. I present my findings only to be told my billable hours are down and this task should have only taken me 5 minutes.
12:30 pm – scramble to get to the kitchenette to feast on the leftovers from a meeting before the other graduates. This is the only sustenance I can afford if I hope to maintain my glass of red aesthetic after work at Print Hall.
12:45 pm – now the real magic starts. Hit the terrace with my leather document holder and make sure my entry-level Tissot is on display when I order a coffee. It’s a budget-breaking expenditure but the barista can barely restrain herself from sucking me as dry as a bachelor’s backup sponge.
1:30 pm – face a 3 associate grilling over missing a typo in a 300-page lease agreement I proofread for them. Told I am to check the document in its entirety and those billables will be written off. Get told I’m only good for photocopying and referred to by the wrong name.
2:30 pm – call a client to get instructions and spend the first 5 minutes explaining why they are talking to me and not the $ 400-an-hour lawyer they are paying for. I tell them I am a lawyer. They hang up at 5:59 seconds on the dot to avoid a second unit. Email me further abuse.
3:30 pm – spot a tradesman that has come to sort out some maintenance in the office. Decide to claw back some self-worth by champing him and asking him if he could keep the noise of the drill down as I’m about to be on a call to Tokyo. The call is to West Perth.
5:30 pm – watch every more important office personnel leave for the day. Not me. I am playing dedication-chicken with the other shiteaters. Last one standing wins. What prize? I really don’t know. This isn’t like the hit TV series Suits at all.
6:30 pm – having stayed back the latest doing sweet FA it’s time to reward myself. I get into a bottle of boardroom swill with some other ghouls to do a little pre-drinking before the fancy bar. Spend 5 minutes in the toilet mirror reciting Yul Brenner’s pep talk to Junior in Cool Runnings.
8:30 pm – have now spent a quarter of my weekly pay on drinks to numb the pain of the day. I am heavily intoxicated and have handed out 37 business cards to anything with a pulse. I suffer an ego-attack after seeing several discarded cards on the floor.
9:00 pm – a number of working-class seccys decide it’s time for me to leave. I take a contrary view and present my argument with legal poise and nuance. My counteroffer to them is simple, I don’t leave immediately and THEY don’t feel the full wrath of my legal fuckhammer! They tremble under my might!
9:01 pm – I am waiting for my Uber after yielding to my learned friend’s more persuasive argument.
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