Last year, I took on a new job as a corporate lawyer for a private company. As general counsel, my work is quite unpredictable. Unlike in my previous job where work is a cycle of reading records, research, writing, and revising, my current job is much like my law firm job where I was required to do a little bit of everything (except court appearances. and personally filing documents with government agencies. Which I loathed. Hehe).
As part of my current work, I had the rare opportunity to interview a well-respected lawyer in his early eighties, together with a group of lawyers, for his deposition. We paid him a visit at his house - which is very cozy and beautiful, by the way - and positioned ourselves by the round breakfast table fronting a wide lawn. When he saw me, the only female in a group of five, he shook my hand and asked, "Oh, so you're a lady lawyer?" For the rest of the interview, he kept on referring me as the "lady lawyer". He must be used to dealing with dominantly male lawyers in practice. I think he has no inkling that 70% of students in the major law schools are now composed of women. At least in our school, that was the composition.
The interviewee talked about his life story, his closest friends in school-turned business partners-turned political allies. This seemed to be a common trend back in the day. It made me think how different things are now, when a lot of close friendships and relations are also borne out of a common interest or group, at whatever age you're at. The interviewee told stories, most of which had no relation to the case. But I found them interesting. It was like listening to a history lecture, with a twist. I was amazed at how sharp his memory is that he could remember the minutest details from more than 50 years ago. He also made it a point to recall each of our names. He asked us what law school we graduated from. I tried to hide the crack in my voice while I told him a little bit about himself. I still get jitters every time I'm placed in the spotlight, even if the stage is set in a brightly lit dining area with a small audience of five. It was supposed to be a morning meeting, but our interviewee was so engrossed in the topic that we extended until after lunch. I became aware of the time when I got distracted by Maya Dela Rosa's voice in the background. The maids were watching her show in the adjoining room. I was so tempted to look to the direction of the TV screen. I haven't seen the show in a week and I was wondering what happened to Maya's flight attendant training and Abby's new yaya. I started to feel hungry and I wondered why no one was getting any of the chocolates placed in front of us to eat. And I didn't want to eat until somebody else does because that's the normal, Pinoy thing to do.
In the middle of the talk, the interviewee suddenly thought it would be better if his answers were recorded. By instinct, he looked to my direction and asked if the "lady lawyer" brought a recorder. (I suppose the "lady lawyer" is the default secretary. Hehe) He didn't say it with condescension; in fact, he said it so nicely and sincerely and I didn't take offense in it, but it reminded me of one episode in Parks and Recreation when Leslie Knope (played by Amy Poehler) tried to address the issue of female bias in the workplace. I was about to bring out my iPhone to record when one of the lawyers took out his own phone and started recording the conversation.
I was distracted again when the interviewee called the attention of one of the maids by clapping his hands in the air twice. I tried to hide my laughter as it reminded of several times when my sister would pretend we're part of the old rich and do the exact same thing at home. I want to do that the next time I call my imaginary, all-around servant, Facundo.
We finished the interview at almost 1 pm. As we were wrapping up, the interviewee was beaming as he looked at all of us, and he said, "I look at you and I remember how I was as a young lawyer, decades ago." Before we left, the interviewee shook our hands firmly. In an effort to recall and memorize our names, he gave a short roll call. He pronounced everyone's full name clearly and articulately, but he failed to mention mine. After the other lawyers left, he turned to me and uttered my last name hesitantly. He interchanged the last two syllables by mistake so I politely corrected him.
We left the interviewee's house and went back to the office. I was worried about the interview at first for unknown reasons, but it didn't turn out so bad. I remember what the interviewee said about seeing himself in each of us. I wondered if he saw himself in me. It's been almost five years since I passed the bar and I still don't feel like a lawyer. I feel like a major chunk of the pay I receive every month goes to my talent fee for playing the part. Most of the time I'm just relieved that my well-pressed blazer and seemingly confident voice are enough to convince other people, especially myself, that I really am a lawyer.
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