Ready, steady, conveyance - part 2 of my training contract adventure
So after that rather intriguing yet vaguely chastening experience at EWP and my other 13 rejections, I ended up having to revise for and take my finals exams for the next couple of months, which at the time were the most stressful thing I had ever had to deal with. Of course, at that point in my life, I’d not had to deal with disputes over Azerbaijani cement plant contracts badly translated into English, or relief from sanctions applications, or serving a break notice under a German lease, or other such wild and wacky legal adventures from my future career. But I digress.
The only thing I did by way of job searching during that period was sending off applications for summer paralegal work at local high-street firms in and around Oxford. The vague plan was to see if anyone would hire me so that I’d be able to put legal experience down on my CV. Out of about 40 firms I contacted in the whole of Oxfordshire, eventually one got in touch to say they were interested and might they interview me? The firm was based in the centre of Oxford in some second floor offices above a bookies and a dry cleaners, opposite an Irish pub. The offices were nice if slightly musty and dated and they came with perhaps?the world’s oldest and slowest lift that took about 3 minutes to ascend from ground to second floor, accompanied by endless creaks and groans that made you brace warily every few seconds in preparation for the rubber bands and plasters that presumably held up the lift to snap and send you hurtling down into oblivion.
Anyway, that interview ended up being a short chat with a nice man called Rob who was interviewing me in place of his colleague James who wanted to hire me but had been unavoidably detained. It was here that I finally worked out that the purpose of most interviews was primarily to work out if your future boss liked your face and the way you spoke and that the answers you gave were sort of secondary to that. I guess I made a decent impression because they ended up hiring me on the spot for that summer as a legal assistant/secretary/general dogsbody. I’d have to answer the phone, Rob said, with a slight shudder that I thought I imagined, but it would be a paid role and I’d be working 9 to 5.15pm Mondays to Fridays. It was a better offer than anything else on the table so naturally I accepted immediately.
Finals were over in late June and after an appropriate amount of relaxing (1.5 weeks) and securing accommodation for the summer that ended up eating up approximately 90% of my wages (my GOD Oxford is expensive) I presented myself in my best suit and tie on my first day, nice and early. I had been looking forward to meeting James, who had given me my big break, only to me told that he had recently left the firm in a bit of a hurry. I was told by a colleague in hushed whispers that there had recently been a bit of trouble with James backdating a few contracts over the past year or so to retrospectively comply with some tax deadlines. Quite a few contracts in fact. And also he had used tippex to make the amendments. Apparently this was not acceptable and sort of borderline bad. Anyway, James had left if not under a bit of a cloud then under a rather inauspicious circumstances. The matter was with the firm’s insurers apparently - the first time I had heard of this wonderful thing called professional indemnity insurance so apparently it was all “in hand” - but it might be best for me not to mention or ask about James for a while. I just nodded along, trying to soak up all this information in a way that was not so much a sponge as a flabby 2-ply supermarket-own-brand kitchen towel.
The next thing I was told was that I was responsible for manning the phones that day in reception because Debbie had gone part time and “the agency was useless”. This agency, I later learned, was a recruitment agency that made promises to supply competent temporary clerical and administrative staff at a princely sum of ￡14 an hour but in fact had a tendency to supply vaguely useless clerical and administrative staff at a princely sum of ￡14 an hour. Hence why they had decided to give me a go, and the bonus was that they would only need to pay me minimum wage which at that time is ￡6.50 an hour. Plus I’d have a degree. From Oxford!
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My induction training was simple and lasted about two minutes. First, I was to take all calls, and then route them through to lawyers in the office as necessary. It was very important that before I put people through, that I actually checked with the relevant lawyer wanted to speak to that person - otherwise I was to say that the lawyer was in meetings or on the other line or any other plausible excuse. And then I was to take a message if need be. And needed to take a name and number too otherwise how the hell was I meant to call back! Secondly if “Phil” the estate agent called then I was to put him through immediately. Phil is his real name and it transpired he was one of the few estate agents that the firm actually trusted not to chase about pointless queries or lie to clients. He was also a genuinely nice guy it seemed and I would instruct him now if I remembered his last name. Thirdly I was told that whenever asked for directions to the firm on the phone, I was always to say that we were “opposite the??Irish pub” and never “above the bookies and dry cleaners”. This was extremely important to ensure we got and retained "the right sort of client". Finally, if I sent any emails I was told I had to print them out and then file them in hard copy in the matter folder, and if I had any spare time I should be helping with filing away old deeds and matter folders in the cellar.
I shared secretarial and phone answering duties with Debbie and on the days I wasn’t sat in reception I was given a desk in the main part of the office which was open-plan and wonderfully spacious. Everyone would stack their files on the edges on their desks where they would teeter precariously in haphazard piles. I was mainly tasked with doing property sales and purchases but would be drafted in to help with the odd will or probate matter. I took calls from concerned people looking to sort of their parents’ estates, anxious couples looking to consummate their first steps into true adulthood by purchasing their first home and also seasoned buy to let landlords or serial house-flippers who would haggle and look to price-chip over fittings and furniture. I recall a ￡2m house purchase stalling over the buyers wanting a ￡300 discount as the sellers were taking their curtains with them. Then there were the pregnant women or recent mothers on maternity leave who sought to alleviate the boredom of being stuck at home with baby who wanted a chat about this, that or the other. We charged fixed fees for property sales and purchases, so it was much more economical than calling a therapist.
I gradually progressed from phone duties to being allowed to prepare land registry forms and standard sale contracts for the property team which now comprised Rob and Tristan. Rob who was about 40 and a truly lovely man who when picking up the phone would frequently exhort “Oh for fuck’s sake” in a wonderful way before unmuting himself and then answering “Hello, Rob speaking” in angelic, saccharine sweet tones of patience and understanding. He had been working in property for god knows how many years and seemed truly unflappable. Tristan on the other hand was young and had just joined from a City firm where he had trained. He was very left wing, had a love of music and did reviews of classical performances in his spare time. Both Rob and Tristan were rather posh and had coincidentally attended the same Oxbridge college and studied the same degree. It truly was a small world.
Once I took a call on behalf of the family practice from a man who asked for details about childcare arrangements on a matter of ours. He was lovely and charming at first but grew increasingly impatient when I said I had to check the file details before divulging any information, and when I worked out that we in fact acted for the mum in contentious divorce proceedings and told him that we would have to seek instructions, he became downright abusive. It was from then on that I decided family law probably wasn’t for me.?
All in all, it was a surprisingly fun summer, I thought.