My inner Doc-Marten-clad undergrad is so disappointed that I am writing this column.
I’ve been incarcerated full-time on a new megacase as the gopher-slash-punchbag for two womyn partners, a female silk and a wicked witch of a client.
It’s no Spice Girls. They are awful.
It is my fault when one of them doesn’t answer another’s email, or if I fail to inform one of them of what another has failed to inform me.
Where are all the communitarian consultative carers that three years of Gender Studies tutes set me up to expect of women in power?
All the senior women involved in this case are veritable Jetstars of emotional reliability and as affectionate as a revved up Gordon Ramsay.
The same can be said for most at the Firm, bar the token part-timers who are some of the most efficient, composed and genuine individuals I have come across in the law.
I know the argument goes that women “climbing the ladder” need to overcompensate with masculine behaviours to survive in a man’s world.
But surely this lot could be a bit more Bob Brown and a bit less Patrick Bateman?
Is there something about our profession that means only the most explosive and disingenuous women can survive, yet laidback larrikins can leisurely float up the corporate ladder like it’s a Provencale canal?
Are they born this way, does the law maketh them so or do they just hide their sociopathic tendencies until they’ve got the exxy wig, statutory appointment or plaque in the partners’ carpark?
The thing is, I fear I may be joining them. Emotionally, that is – there still ain’t no pay rises on the horizon around here.
When I began at the Firm, sometimes I would have a bad day and I would come home and tell Ned all about it, and he to me.
His bad day stories always derived from someone else’s incompetency, whereas my bad days were when I felt I wasn’t up to scratch.
These days, I regularly feel myself swallowing any hesitations I hold about myself or my opinions and charging forward like a rabid bush-pig.
If I’m wrong, it was because someone else prevented me from having the correct facts in the first place, dammit.
I’ve been at the Firm for almost two years now and my bravado levels are about three times that of the man on the 96 tram, which makes me about average for a corporate lawyer.
At this rate, I calculate I should reach the delusional heights of the womyn I’m currently working for sometime in my sixth year at the Firm.
Perhaps if I was a young male lawyer, I would have had an adequate level of self-confidence to begin with and there would have been no need to hurl myself down the slippery slope of self-aggrandisement to justify my existence?
Or would I be on it all the same, albeit in more comfortable shoes?