Time after time — why waiting before you jump is the right thing to do
Last fortnight, I wrote about the five key things to think about when you’re trying to work out what to do next. It’s undoubtedly the biggest part of career-changing and one that should receive most of your focus and energy. There is a lot to cover under each of the points so over the next few newsletters, I will be expanding on them to help you navigate the quagmire.
Can’t rush this (do do do dooo)
First up: taking as much time as you can before committing. If you’re anything like me and want things done at the speed of light (my mum blames it on me being a Sagittarius — hi mum), this is hard and can lead to that horrible feeling that nothing is changing fast — or even at all.
My first bout of discontentment with law happened, as some of you know, right after I qualified in 2013. Although it seems an odd point to get cold feet, I had been on the path to qualification since teaching myself Law A-Level at home in 2004 (nerd alert). Nine years later and the mismatch between reality and expectations began getting bigger, as did the questioning of my place within the industry and the redundancy I felt at not being able to make a wider impact on the world through it.
The disgruntlement went away in part, but each time it returned, it did so with a vengeance, meaning that at points I felt utterly trapped and somewhat paralysed. (It is worth noting however, that parts of this feeling were related solely to the specific job I was doing and could have been rectified with better firm management including support and resources).
When I handed in my first resignation letter, my boss made a valid point that if I quit then, I would find it very hard to come back. He was right, and at that moment, while I needed space to think about my future, I wasn’t ready to commit to a change and throw all my hard work away for nothing. So I carried on for another two-and-a-half years.
While a number of things that happened during that period weren’t great, staying at that firm was absolutely the right thing to do. Challenging personal circumstances on top of job dissatisfaction, meant I did not have the energy, confidence or time to make career-changing work in the way it has now. Staying put also gave me opportunities that, without realising, would put me in good stead for moving industries. Indeed during those post-qualification years, I started writing my first blog, which led to my boss asking me to write articles for the firm’s website, editing his and other partners’ pieces for a monthly magazine and setting up and running the department’s Twitter account.
When I eventually left law in 2016, although I had no plan for what I was going to do, I at least had some non-legal experience and digital skills that would be a significant help when I began putting myself out there.
Dust yourself off, and try again
Before quitting completely, I had thought about moving to other legal aid firms, but concluded that it was unlikely to be much different. I hadn’t thought about private practice at all until early 2015, when I got headhunted to go for a role at a renowned top tier private firm. Some people (myself included) wondered if it was a good move. For one, I was (am) a staunch socialist and helping Russian oligarchs hide money from their unsuspecting wives was not at the top of my ‘Things to achieve before I die’ list. Secondly, the firm had a reputation for iron hand leadership when I was used to autonomy, respect from seniors and a paralegal who was just as keen to take my fashion blog pictures as she was to file a petition for me.
In many ways, the move was nonsensical, but it was also strategic; the new firm attracted large and complex cases that would test my brain, I’d be given time and resources to learn and develop, and the salary would resolve some of the hardships created by living in London on a piss poor salary, repaying university / law school loans and continually opting for the second bottle of wine on the menu to show friends and suitors that I’d finally made it. (For those who think all lawyers are fat cats, let me tell you that this is wholly untrue of the publicly funded sector and actually a damaging rhetoric). So off I popped to see if all I needed was a change of family law scenery.
The grass was not greener, it was in fact concrete. While some of the cases were fascinating and I got to regularly attend senior courts, my anxiety went through the roof. I ended up with so many stress-related health problems, a doctor tried to sign me off more than once, and I developed an addiction to takeaway Mexican food that I’m still trying to kick (I’ll be honest, I’m not really trying).
Six months in, I had stopped writing, my drinking had increased and I genuinely feared going into work unless I was too hungover to care; grateful only that the meeting room fridges had enough full fat coke in to get me through the day. At night I couldn’t sleep (although during one severe bout of insomnia, I came up with the idea for Reasons Greetings — my mildly offensive greetings cards and homeware range that I went on to sell at Camden and Islington markets after I quit) and so I would be acting for clients not knowing whether I was coming or going. You can see how the negligence panic sets in.
I was nowhere near ready to have a family of my own, but I began to worry about the damage I was doing to my body. Being part of the rat race was okay at 24, but not at 30.
While I was unhappy, I was also resilient; I used this time to get my finances in order, put the feelers out for other jobs, including interviewing at several other firms (before concluding my heart was absolutely not in it anymore) and overhauled my online professional presence. I also booked trips away where I would either be active and therefore unable to be contacted by work, or in solitude so that I could be alone with my thoughts and get my creative juices flowing again.
And then, when everyone was out at the annual summer party (I had elected to stay behind and get my admin sorted knowing I was about to resign), I quit.
Yes I had nothing to go to, but after three years of sitting tight, I was able to remove some of the obstacles to ensure the jump was a little less steep. By taking that extra thinking space before committing, I knew that not only was leaving law the right choice, it was also the right time. And that validation my friends, is worth waiting for.
