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{{a|people|}}Little basil fotherington-tomas before he is ''turned''.
{{a|people|{{image|trainee|jpg|[[Sullivan & Cromwell]]’s induction programme, yesterday. Looks a bit like [[Struwwelpeter|Augustus who wouldn’t eat his soup]], doesn’t he.}}}}{{dpn|/treɪˈniː/|n|}}{{nld}}


Every now and then an anguished howl will yammer across [[LinkedIn]] signalscape, as
Little [[Molesworth as role model|basil fotherington-tomas]] before he is ''turned''.
some well-meaning [[thought leader]] or other —  or sometimes an anonymous self -organising autonomous collective of juniors — lights touchpaper to the topic of the grisly working conditions for young commercial lawyers and a predictable dumpster fire woofs, explodes and quickly burns out when people connect their senses, or get distracted by the next bauble, or whatever motivates the herd these days on the [[Onworld]]
 
Every now and then an anguished howl will yammer across [[LinkedIn]] signalscape as some well-meaning [[thought leader]] or other —  sometimes, an anonymous self-organising autonomous collective of them — lights a touchpaper to the apparently grisly working conditions for young commercial lawyers.
 
It sets off a predictable dumpster fire, which woofs, explodes and quickly burns out as people move on, forget, come to their senses, or are distracted by the next bauble, or whatever motivates the [[onworld]] herd these days. But until then it plays out like so:


“It cannot be right,” they wail, “in our enlightened times, to torture out younglings so. Fourteen hours a day! Sometimes more! They are not up to it.  It will crush them. We must be humane.”  
“It cannot be right,” they wail, “in our enlightened times, to torture out younglings so. Fourteen hours a day! Sometimes more! They are not up to it.  It will crush them. We must be humane.”  


There will then follow a long and tiring diatribe about the fragile psychiatric disposition of the upcoming generation. It will culminate in robust accord that we must all, at every opportunity, speak loudly and at [[tedious]] length about our own astral vulnerabilities, end the stigma of being seen to gabble incessantly about our stigmas.
There will then follow a long and tiring diatribe about the fragile psychiatric disposition of the upcoming generation. It will culminate in robust accord that we must all, at every opportunity, speak loudly and [[tedious]]ly about our own vulnerabilities, thereby ending forever the stigma of airing our personal hang-ups.
 
Look, kids: keeping schtum about your frailties isn’t a ''travesty''. It’s ''common sense''. It’s ''personal branding 101''. ''It is what people do''.
 
[[JC]] will spare his usual [[Nietzsche|Nietzschean]] quotes about [[military life]], apposite though they are: suffice to say, there is nothing quite like a good “shoeing” at the bottom of a ruck every now and then to stouten a young attorney’s fibre. It builds a kind of [[Antifragile|resilience]] that whingeing about mental health on [[LinkedIn]] never will.
 
In any case, a better question is this: what sort of person regards ''any part'' of the [[Magic circle law firm|big law military industrial complex]] — even its front-line of callow inductees — with even a twinge of sympathy? The same sorts who would cuddle polar bears, that’s who. They don’t last long.
 
For, really: what do you think ''happens'' to those cute little Kirkland & Ellis cubs when they grow up? Have you not seen ''Stranger Things''?


The [[JC]] will spare you his usual Nietzschean quotes about [[military life]], apposite though they are: there is nothing quite like a good old “shoeing” at the bottom of the ruck every now and then to stouten a young attorney’s fibre. It builds a kind of resilience that moaning about your lot on [[LinkedIn]] never will.
The Harvard Law School careers fair is not the Western Front. These “poor little lambs” we hold in contemplation were not conscripted, press-ganged, nor frog-marched at gunpoint down to the Latham & Watkins barracks.  


A better question is this: what sort of person regards ''any part'' of the big law military industrial complex — even it's fluffy downy underbelly — with even the tiniest twinge of affection or sympathy? Would you cuddle a polar bear?
To the contrary, they spent years in law school climbing over each other ''specifically to get to where they now are''.


What do you think happens to those cute little Kirkland & Ellis associates when they grow up? Have you not seen ''Stranger Things''?
This was their one goal: their guiding, blinding light. ''These people are trained killers''. They eat the weak. They are ''motivated'' to this penury. They ''want'' it. Five years of trench warfare is ''part of their plan''.


This is not the Russian front. These poor little lambs were not conscripted, press-ganged, nor marched at gunpoint down to the recruitment office. They have spent some years clambering over each other to get that clerkship. They are motivated to this penury. It is part of their plan.
They understand, the way [[LinkedIn|LinkedIn grandees]] seem to have forgotten, that ''[[Military school of life|what does not kill you makes you stronger]]''. Whoops: we promised to spare the [[Nietzsche]] quotes, didn’t we?


Remember, these babes-in-arms are charged out, from the moment they put down their joss-sticks and hacky-sacks and throw on a suit, at ''five hundred bucks an hour''. And they know nothing. Their work is thus triple checked by some slightly older cherub who is paid nine-hundred bucks an hour and knows barely any more. You are paying an effective rate of sixteen hundred bucks an hour a kid you wouldn't trust to wash your car if he lived on your street.
And remember, these babes-in-arms — armed babies, at any rate — are [[Charge-out rate|charged out]], from the moment they trade their joss-sticks & hacky-sacks for power-suits, at ''seven hundred bucks an hour''. And they know ''nothing''. Their work is then triple-checked by some slightly older cherub who is paid ''nine'' hundred bucks an hour and knows barely any more. You are paying an effective rate of sixteen hundred bucks an hour for a kid you’d think twice about letting walk your dog.


And do these people not remember their own tutelage
It was, as we old lags are prone to say, ever ''thus''. Our [[Libtard|liberal metropolitan mores]] may wax and wane, but “ever thus” will it ''remain''. The career path of commercial lawyering is not, never has been, and never will be, for [[Die Schweizer Heulsuse|milksop]]<nowiki/>s. Those who have clambered over enough scuffling bodies to earn a [[big law]] training contract has, we presume, a deliberative faculty, and options, even in a tight labour market.


If you don’t like hard work, young sir or madam, ''find something else to do''. You’ll cope.


{{sa}}
{{sa}}
*[[Molesworth]]
*[[Molesworth]]
*[[Law firm]]
*[[Law firm]]
*[[Friedrich Nietzsche|Nietzsche]]
*[[Antifragile]]

Latest revision as of 22:52, 11 August 2024

People Anatomy™
A spotter’s guide to the men and women of finance.
Sullivan & Cromwell’s induction programme, yesterday. Looks a bit like Augustus who wouldn’t eat his soup, doesn’t he.
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Trainee
/treɪˈniː/ (n.)

Little basil fotherington-tomas before he is turned.

Every now and then an anguished howl will yammer across LinkedIn signalscape as some well-meaning thought leader or other — sometimes, an anonymous self-organising autonomous collective of them — lights a touchpaper to the apparently grisly working conditions for young commercial lawyers.

It sets off a predictable dumpster fire, which woofs, explodes and quickly burns out as people move on, forget, come to their senses, or are distracted by the next bauble, or whatever motivates the onworld herd these days. But until then it plays out like so:

“It cannot be right,” they wail, “in our enlightened times, to torture out younglings so. Fourteen hours a day! Sometimes more! They are not up to it. It will crush them. We must be humane.”

There will then follow a long and tiring diatribe about the fragile psychiatric disposition of the upcoming generation. It will culminate in robust accord that we must all, at every opportunity, speak loudly and tediously about our own vulnerabilities, thereby ending forever the stigma of airing our personal hang-ups.

Look, kids: keeping schtum about your frailties isn’t a travesty. It’s common sense. It’s personal branding 101. It is what people do.

JC will spare his usual Nietzschean quotes about military life, apposite though they are: suffice to say, there is nothing quite like a good “shoeing” at the bottom of a ruck every now and then to stouten a young attorney’s fibre. It builds a kind of resilience that whingeing about mental health on LinkedIn never will.

In any case, a better question is this: what sort of person regards any part of the big law military industrial complex — even its front-line of callow inductees — with even a twinge of sympathy? The same sorts who would cuddle polar bears, that’s who. They don’t last long.

For, really: what do you think happens to those cute little Kirkland & Ellis cubs when they grow up? Have you not seen Stranger Things?

The Harvard Law School careers fair is not the Western Front. These “poor little lambs” we hold in contemplation were not conscripted, press-ganged, nor frog-marched at gunpoint down to the Latham & Watkins barracks.

To the contrary, they spent years in law school climbing over each other specifically to get to where they now are.

This was their one goal: their guiding, blinding light. These people are trained killers. They eat the weak. They are motivated to this penury. They want it. Five years of trench warfare is part of their plan.

They understand, the way LinkedIn grandees seem to have forgotten, that what does not kill you makes you stronger. Whoops: we promised to spare the Nietzsche quotes, didn’t we?

And remember, these babes-in-arms — armed babies, at any rate — are charged out, from the moment they trade their joss-sticks & hacky-sacks for power-suits, at seven hundred bucks an hour. And they know nothing. Their work is then triple-checked by some slightly older cherub who is paid nine hundred bucks an hour and knows barely any more. You are paying an effective rate of sixteen hundred bucks an hour for a kid you’d think twice about letting walk your dog.

It was, as we old lags are prone to say, ever thus. Our liberal metropolitan mores may wax and wane, but “ever thus” will it remain. The career path of commercial lawyering is not, never has been, and never will be, for milksops. Those who have clambered over enough scuffling bodies to earn a big law training contract has, we presume, a deliberative faculty, and options, even in a tight labour market.

If you don’t like hard work, young sir or madam, find something else to do. You’ll cope.

See also