Meeting your junior lawyer’s mind

How a trip down memory lane might make you a better lawyer

If you read my last post, you’re familiar with a difficult realisation I came to not long ago.

Five years of handling probate matters gave me a stack of competence and confidence. But it took something from me, too. What drew me to probate law in the first place was the human element; the chance to be there for people when they most need to be understood.

I discovered that while that experience undoubtedly made me better at my job in a whole host of ways, all those hours spent overseeing wills and estates hadn’t at all helped me to communicate with my clients. In fact, it had got in the way.

Moving Parts

Before law, I worked at a financial technology start-up. I’ve got a degree in mechatronic engineering and have always enjoyed taking things apart to figure out how they work, what happens when they don’t, and what I can do about it.

While I wouldn’t say I enjoyed being called a “f***wit”, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also get a kick out of trying to solve for that accusation. (You’re reading the results.)

I think it makes sense why I love wills and estates. Drafting a will is like putting a machine together and administering an estate is like operating the final product.

Wills that aren’t drafted properly are much like any poorly designed or manufactured product in that they can end up causing a whole host of consequences for both clients and lawyers alike.

But while probate law might attract a technically minded person, the job demands far more than mechanical thinking. Our clients are grieving. They're confused. Even on a good day, they struggle to understand us.

This is our responsibility to cater to. But in probate law, we have a responsibility to be more than merely a manufacturing line for wills and estates — we have a responsibility to be human, first and foremost because we’re so often dealing with humans experiencing profoundly human needs.

Remember what you… forgot?

In my last post, I promised to think more deeply about how experience, empathy, and that inner ‘junior lawyer’ are related. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Why? Because junior lawyers have something we don’t. Something we forgot.

I think we lose something that we once had as we accrue experience. We forget what it’s like to know nothing about probate. We take for granted how much our clients understand.

In other words, experience can become a wall between you and your client.

So the lawyer in me sees the problem. But I’m leaving it to the engineer in me to solve for it:

1. Over-communicate Everything

Would you rather risk being patronising or confusing?

Think back to when you were starting out. You needed everything explained to you. Your clients are in the same position:

• They don’t know what probate is.

• They don’t know why the Supreme Court is involved.

• They don’t know what a requisition or an affidavit is.

• Some don’t even know who their siblings are!

They’re coming to you because your name is on their dead relative’s will. That’s it.

Everything they don’t know is your responsibility. Not just to act on, but to explain.

In my opinion, we need to ask ourselves (as impractical as it might sound): if cost and time weren’t factors, how would I make this all clear?

We know how long these matters can take. We understand the delays. We know how sketchy some family dynamics can get. Sitting on that information isn’t helping anyone though, is it?

If you want to avoid being called a f---wit (again), communicate. Over-communicate if you have to. Not to protect yourself, but because good communication requires empathy, and empathy makes us better lawyers.

Think about how you communicate, too. I no longer assume the letters I write will be read, let alone understood.

If your clients are on WhatsApp, meet them there. If a quick video explains something better than three paragraphs, record the video.

Don’t make a virtue out of formality. Make a virtue out of being understood.

If you want to bridge the gap between you and your clients, start by remembering what it felt like to know sweet F-A.

And for every question a client asks, assume ten more are sitting silently in their head.

For tips on client communication, subscribe here. I’ll be writing more about this soon.

2. Clarify Your Role

In most cases, if it hadn’t been written on their deceased relative’s will, they wouldn’t even know your name. The chances are that they might not know precisely what a probate lawyer does. They know your name was on a will. That’s about it.

Early in my career, a client asked me to review a building report for a property she wanted to buy with her inheritance. I walked her through the issues — nothing catastrophic — and she looked up and asked:

“So… do you think I should buy it?”

I had thoughts. But that wasn’t the job.

So I replied, with all the junior lawyer awkwardness in the world: “That’s a matter for you.” Helpful? Not really.

Our clients don’t need us to be decisive. We’re there to help them make decisions for themselves. We empower them. We provide agency. This starts with explaining what our role is and what it isn’t, and helping steer them towards those capable of attending to needs of theirs not under our purview.

What might this look like? In broad brushstrokes, clients often don’t know what questions they need to ask, or who to turn to for guidance on, say, what to do with a building report. We’re uniquely positioned to point our clients in the right direction. For example, we understand that our clients might have trouble understanding building reports. Why would we then not steer them towards someone who might be able to take them through the report and explain its implications? Or have a network of experts to whom we can refer the client in these kinds of situations, where we aren’t able to provide clarity. There is always scope for us to aid our clients in pursuing clarity.

Here’s a thought experiment:

For a month, write down every time a client asks for advice that isn’t strictly legal.

Those moments show where your role needs clearer framing. These gaps are going to provide you with an incredibly useful insight into how you might better clarify your role from the get-go next time.

3. Trust me, I’m a lawyer…

Trust doesn’t come with the job title anymore. It’s earned.

Clients are sceptical. They’ve read too much online. They’ve been burned before. They’ve heard about “cheaper,” “faster,” and “easier.”

I think people don’t trust lawyers because they don’t understand what lawyers do. That lack of understanding creates a power imbalance. We’re trained to argue, speak in legalese, take meticulous notes, and stay ten steps ahead. And to a client, that can feel like a power imbalance, maybe even like we’re working in the shadows and strategically keeping ourselves beyond reproach.

Trust vibes, I think not.

As the elders in our community say, trust used to be a given. Key phrase: used to be.

There are other factors at play too. Access to information, scandals, social media, TV legal dramas... Clients think they know more. They have access to more information than ever before, and as a result bring all of these hang-ups into their dealings with lawyers like a hangover at a late lunch.

What we know is that the world is full of foodies who can’t cook and car enthusiasts who can’t change a tyre. Theoretical comprehension and the practising of a craft produce wildly different results. And so, we’re relied upon by our clients.

Being relied upon is however not the same as being trusted, and so we have to take trust seriously.

As lawyers, we sell risk mitigation. And our most important tool — or maybe it's not a tool, maybe it’s three-quarters of the shop — is in that trust.

Trust is our currency. It’s not a luxury. It’s a prerequisite for a successful career.

Clients who trust us are easier to help, easier to work with, and far more likely to refer others.

So how do you earn it?

• Communicate clearly

• Be transparent about pricing

• Speak in plain English

• Be efficient

In all honesty, we’re in this together, and I’d love to hear your thoughts. But I’ll say this: saying “trust me” and then speaking in legalese probably isn’t going to cut it.

Some Things I’ve Come Back To

When I think back to that first year, I remember being overwhelmed. But I also remember something useful. Hope. Corny. Lame. But so, so true. I believed the system could be improved. That we could be better.

I still believe that.

More so, actually — because now I’ve seen where and how we fail. And I’m still taking things apart and putting them back together.

The trick is not to harden. Not to default to “it’s always been like this.” Not to forget what it felt like to be new. To not know.

That’s where empathy begins.

And in probate law, that’s where real value lives too.