When I retired from the practice of law in 2020, I could not have told you what NCA stands for. I am willing to bet that the majority of home-grown Canadian lawyers in private law firms are just as ignorant about this as I was.
On the other hand, I have never met an internationally trained lawyer who did not know what NCA stands for.
I recently went for a ‘preventative health examination,’ which is code for ‘private healthcare,’ which is something that is in fact available in Canada – to those who are willing and able to pay for it.
I was given a stress test which involved having me walk on a treadmill while hooked-up to a computer. Being me, I quipped to the technician that I was counting on her to make sure that I did not have a heart attack during the test. She reassured me that if I did, I would be in good hands, because ‘back home’ she was a cardiologist.
It is not a very well-kept secret that in Canada we make it difficult for immigrants to qualify to practice their professions.
So let’s talk about lawyers.
By now everyone on LinkedIn has heard about Jon, a Cleveland lawyer who wrote a rather nasty email to a recently departed colleague who, having returned from her maternity leave, gave notice that she was leaving for another firm. The backlash was furious. Jon lost his job rather quickly.
From the flood of comments on social media, the idea surfaced that it is likely that Jon’s behaviour was not an aberration, which got me thinking about some of the people who I ran across while practicing law.
As an Anglo born and raised in Montreal and living in Ontario for many years, I consider myself to be a political refugee from Quebec. (Some would say that I overstate my immigrant credentials somewhat.)
I moved from Montreal to Toronto in 1979 at twenty-four years of age with my brand-new law degree in hand to article for a mid-sized Toronto firm. It was my third trip to Toronto. I had been in the city for a weekend when I was eight years old and again for a few days for articling interviews.
I like orange popsicles. The cherry flavoured ones are also okay. The grape flavour is terrible. This is one of the few topics upon which everyone in my household agrees.
It is really hard to find a box of only orange popsicles. Trust me, I have looked. So, we always end up buying a box which contains all three flavours. Eventually our freezer becomes full of grape popsicles that nobody wants and we throw them away to make room. It is a waste of money and not that great for the environment.
“There is a time for departure even when there’s no certain place to go.”
Tennessee Williams
On the day that the love of my life and I first told each other that we loved each other, we were, unfortunately, both married to other people. It was a pretty rough journey from then to now (together seventeen years, married for twelve.) Along the way a number of people were hurt, only a few of whom deserved it. I love the result but would not wish the journey on anyone, and deeply regret the hurt caused to the innocent parties.
We live in a hierarchical world. In a law firm, the levels are pretty clear. From top to bottom it goes something like this: Managing Partner, Other Partners (ranked in order of billings and client originating credits), Senior Associates, Professional Managers, Junior Associates, Law Clerks, Legal Assistants, Clerical Staff, Articling Students, and Cleaners.
Everyone in a law firm has a pretty good notion about what the hierarchy is, although Articling Students have sometimes found out to their shock and horror that they do in fact rank under the Law Clerks, Legal Assistants, and Clerical Staff.
Back in the day, there was a law firm in which the partners were – how do I say it sort of nicely – not ‘culturally aligned.’
Sam was the Managing Partner. He was charming and charismatic, and nice to everybody, at least most of the time. Aligned with him were enough partners to vote with him on everything that mattered, sometimes more out of personal loyalty or ignorance than conviction.
Gordon was the other high billing partner with a huge client base, which qualified him to lead a group of dissidents. He and Sam tended to be competitive about things such as compensation.
When I was a teenager, my buddy Bill took me waterskiing. For those of you who do not water ski, you learn to ski on two skis which is easy, then to ‘drop a ski’ which is harder, and finally to start on one ski. That was what I was trying to do.
Bill said that I was the only person who he ever saw who was still holding onto the rope ten feet under water. An exaggeration perhaps, but sometimes I really do not know when to give up.
You may be familiar with the expression, “Culture Eats Strategy for Breakfast,” a quote from Peter Drucker. As the title of this post implies, I not only agree with that sentiment, but I believe that it is drastically understated.