First week at Hogwarts

Junior Junior's first days at the bar ... She smartly identified three types of barrister ... Does the bar attract weirdos or does the bar make them weird? ... The baby barrister blog 

Ah, the bar!

Having recently joined the secret society of the bewigged few I am still feeling rather like Harry Potter in his first week at Hogwarts.

Suddenly I'm elevated. My cape is a gown, my wand, a wig. I'm eager to experiment with my new status, but rather terrified of the consequences.

Here am I, plucked from the life at The Firm and thrust into the hallowed halls of chambers where I am promptly deposited into a cupboard under the stairs.

I was sure in Harry Potter it was the other way around.

I suppose I should be grateful. I actually have a door. Others are not so fortunate.

My first day in chambers was both thrilling and terrifying. On introducing myself to the characters with whom I now share space, I quickly realised that my confreres can be categorised into three types of barrister. 

The Homeless Man: He looks like he rolled off a park bench after sleeping in a suit that has not seen a dry-cleaner since the 80s. His chambers are in disarray and his assistants are usually pretty young French exchange students, whom he enjoys sexually harassing. I am yet to determine whether his style is a conscious choice or a result of mental disturbance or substance abuse.

The Classic Man: He is born in the wrong century. Dressing in suspenders and bow ties, drinking martinis and pondering the meaning of À la recherche du temps perdu. His chambers are choaked with antiques and he likes to go sailing on weekends. He is debonair and quite charming with the ladies.

The Modern Man: There are those barristers who have embraced the modern world. Their chambers sparkle in white and glass and they spend the downtime, created by their tech-filled lives, to order stuff online from Mr Porter. They drink posh wine and have always been to the latest hip restaurant before anyone else. Usually they are smug and annoying.

Strangely enough, women are not to be found in any of these categories.

There are women at the bar. A few. I doubt there are enough of them for any defined categories to have emerged at this point.

The striking thing is how comfortably most barristers fit into these stereotypes. It begs the question: does the bar attract weirdos or do they develop eccentricities because they are at the bar?

Regardless of their quirks, I find male barristers very friendly. Nine times out of ten they are not really trying to get into my pants.

I was very surprised by this considering the ratio was significantly different when I was a solicitor.

Having settled into my cupboard and "hung my shingle", I am now starting the rollercoaster ride that is my new job.

Title - barrister-at-law. Job description - waiting for work. 

Comments

[Wayne Cooper]

Junior Junior might get more work once the expression "begs the question" is properly used. JJ shoul perhaps practise with "invites the question" or "leads to the question" in the context used above and save begging the question to describe logical circularities, as it should be.