There’s a disturbing malady that seems to strike our youngest, brightest and most glamorous. It’s known as Solicitors’ Stockholm Syndrome.
We’ve all heard about the sad cases of abducted victims, such as Natascha Kampusch, who empathise with their abductors and even fall in love with them.
Apparently it can happen to anyone, and young female solicitors are not immune.
Here’s an instance I know of:
A young female solicitor had been assigned to work on a major case and liaise with counsel for the preparation and settlement of all the evidence.
She arrived with her trolley of folders at chambers and was shown up into the antiquated office of one Mr X SC.
He is overweight and grey with a flaky balding scalp, ear hair, nose hair and bad breath.
His watery blue eyes and lined face decorated with broken capillaries indicate he has spent significant time celebrating his victories.
Mr X SC began to mentally remove her Armani suit and tall Loubotins. She tried not to let her revulsion show.
Nevertheless, she knuckled down and they worked from sun-up to sun-down sorting out the 300-plus page affidavits.
This went on for three or four days. Each night she arrived home so late her man was already asleep and she was up and gone almost before he woke.
Come the third or fourth day and a change began to occur. No longer was this lecherous old barrister quite so repulsive – he started to become endearing.
First, in a grandfatherly way. Then as it progressed, she thought that his festoons of grey ear hair made him look a little like a cute koala.
She even entertained the thought that he is attractive and secretly pondered whether older men are better lovers.
He ceased to be Jabba the Hut and morphed into Sean Connery.
Ultimately the work finished and he treated her to a vintage bottle of Veuve to celebrate. What girl would turn down the opportunity to drink Veuve Clicquot from her birth year?
She became a little tipsy and accepted that tomorrow she would go back to her office and no longer be graced with his presence day in and day out. She was a even little sad about this and wondered if, maybe, she should risk giving him a kiss.
After all, he had removed his wedding ring and all the photos of his grandchildren.
I will stop it right there before I throw up on my desk.
How could we let this happen??? Are our firms secretly pimping us out to these crumbling lotharios to ensure their work gets priority treatment?
No offense to those eminent members of the bar who are faithful to their wives and look like Harrison Ford. (Truth be told I haven’t met any, but the bar deserves the benefit of the doubt.)
As young female solicitors we need to protect ourselves from any tendency towards aberrant behaviour.
Ensure you always have some face time with normal people when you have been cooped-up all day with Don Juan Geriatric.
If you do begin to find that you are falling for one of these ancient creatures, immediately seek help from your girlfriends. They will open your eyes quick-smart to the reality of the crisis facing you.
Once the word is out maybe there’s hope of stopping this epidemic in it’s tracks.
I don’t know whether this difficulty confronts young male solicitors – although I suspect female members of the bar are focussed on higher things than trouser chasing.
I could be quite wrong about that.