I Want My Fucking Margarita (or, Why I’m Leaving the Legal Industry for Deep Tech)
That’s fucking enough.
It shouldn’t surprise you that I’m starting today’s essay with a story. This one however is decidedly more boring than jumping off jungle cliffs, falling into shit-filled swamps, or blackmailing superior officers.
Today’s story takes place on LinkedIn, and lasts about 7 seconds from start to finish.
In Singapore to be a qualified advocate and solicitor i.e. an attorney called to the Bar, you need to pass the Bar exams and complete a mandatory period of supervised legal practice called ‘training’ (in the past also known as pupilage).
Some months back, I saw a post on LinkedIn from a senior lawyer in Singapore who was congratulating 2 of his trainees on getting called to the Bar. He said, “welcome to what was once known as an ‘honourable profession’”.
Think about that for a second - what was once known. Lawyers are not frequently known for confusing their vocabularies, so I am inclined to believe that the word choice was not unintentional.
See, I decided to go to law school nearly 10 years ago. My decision then was based on one simple premise: if I was smart enough, and hardworking enough, and good at thinking on my feet, then there would be a clear path to a future that was full of margaritas on the beach.
I had a specific vision: Fine sand between my toes, a wicker chair holding me up and sagging a little around my ass, and a cabana roof made of palm fronds keeping out the worst of the sun. Beside me on a little wooden table would be a tall margarita, with little beads of condensation that would run down my fingers every time I picked up the glass to take a sip.
And don’t forget the little straw umbrella.
I was never under the illusion that my margarita fantasy would come easily, but what I’ve found after a great deal of effort is that I’m about twenty years too late.
It’s not news that a decreasing number of lawyers at the top are hogging increasing amounts of money. This is because, in my humble opinion, the legal industry has become an inherently exploitative system which baits young people with a juicy carrot, burns them out, and chucks them aside leaving the ones already at the top to reap the benefits.
I hate the legal industry so much
This post wasn’t meant to be an acerbic indictment of the legal industry, but midway through writing it I blacked out and ended up with the following rant. You can skip it and move straight to the next section where I talk about what I’m doing about it (really, I’m saying it’s okay), but it’s here if you want a little extra info.
There is a general trend, in my experience, toward hiring young lawyers at junior positions for piss-poor pay with the promise that if they work hard and keep at it consistently, they will eventually climb to the lofty positions that the big boys currently enjoy. These young lawyers are subsequently worked to death, and immediately replaced by more fresh blood.
An associate I once worked with (and I hope they won’t mind me quoting them here) told me that they felt like if they collapsed at their desk from exhaustion, someone else would just climb over their corpse to claw greedily at their files. They quit a few months after that.
It is a perpetual cycle. Young lawyers feel as if they have to keep pushing, because if not, someone else will take their spot. And so they do, pulling all-nighters 6 days a week and working 16-hour days, until their bodies literally give out and they fucking break. The worst part is that they aren’t mistaken - someone is gunning for their spots, but only because they too are under the same illusion that there is a bright light at the end of this tunnel of overwork and stale coffee.
And so it goes. Lawyers collapse, new ones come in to take their spots until they too break.
A patent leather oxford, stamping on a misguided human face - forever.
All while the lawyers already at the top continually reap the profits of those they exploit. And junior lawyers don’t even get paid that well, certainly not in proportion to how much work we do. Is it any wonder the legal industry is called the burnout profession?
If you’ve ever had to pay legal fees, you’re probably rolling your eyes. If it’ll appeal to your sense of empathy, take comfort in the fact that people like me won’t ever get to see most of the money you cough up. I once saw a statistic in Singapore that 90% of lawyers quit the profession within the first decade. That number probably isn’t far off in other jurisdictions.
I should caveat that I didn’t even have it that bad at my firm, but it wasn’t great. It felt a lot like being back in the Army, except without any weekends. It was a learning experience sure, but what price would you put on knowledge? Probably not your health. I don’t even have a gripe with the individual lawyers in the system - I’d say the ones I worked with were decent and honourable - but the entire structure of legal practice subsumes that individuality and co-opts everyone into being a participant that perpetuates its unfairness.
I was practically skipping on my way out when I finally left.
But I do love the Law (with a capital ‘L’)
After joining the legal industry, it occurred to me that my margarita dream was more pipe-shaped and fever-induced than it had first appeared to be, because I no longer saw a clear path there. Instead, what I saw was that if I was smart and I worked hard, nothing good would come of it. I would get milked more, and more, and more, until I either died or the people milking me retired.
And you know what they say: lawyers never retire.
Now I figure that I’ve just about fucking had it. I refuse to waste my life fighting a system that is geared toward wearing me down. Not that I don’t like a good fight, but what will have been the point of it? So that I can maybe one day replace one elderly partner at one firm and vote in futility against the other partners who will inevitably also be dicks trying to perpetuate the same system, because “if we suffered through it then everyone else should have to too”?
Great. That and a dollar will get me a candy bar.
So, I am transitioning to Tech. Make no mistake about it, I am fucking mad that I have to. I am angry at having been sold a ticket to a train that last departed years ago. But the worst fucking part is that I love the Law, because it is one of the most beautiful things humanity has ever produced.
It is the most concrete expression of our highest and most noble beliefs. This is a passage I wrote in my first-ever published book chapter:
“The law is not intended to be an exercise in futility. It should guide conduct, and in so doing, provide reasons that we as rational beings can comprehend, internalise, and thus be better off for it.
Lastly, as the embodiment of our proudest values, the Rule of Law should confer an integrity … that necessitates ... interpretation according to their best possible light. Whenever there are doubts, the fairer and more just interpretation should prevail. “The end of law is not to abolish or restrain but to preserve and enlarge freedom.” The attitude adopted towards adjudication and governance should thus reflect the very highest and most honourable of our legal traditions.”
I don’t know if that passage expresses my deep and enduring love for the Law clearly enough, but I can tell you that my eyes watered when I wrote those words. Bit melodramatic? Sure. But I don’t care.
I love all the things that the Law stands for. I love its history, its deep storied path from the ten tablets of Rome to our modern declarations of ‘self-evident truths,’ ‘simple and incontestable principles,’ and even the ‘highest aspirations of the common people’. And I love the hope that it inspires in people.
Great legal documents - judgements, treaties, and legislation - are like great poems. They make your chest swell with pride and your throat close up. Read the words of Lord Denning, Thurgood Marshall, or Learned Hand and tell me that they are not beautiful. Read Lord Hoffman’s dissent in A v Home Secretary [2004] regarding the Belmarsh 9 and tell me you are not filled with pride (I mean it, go read it - it’s at paras 95-97). Hell, even Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote some great stuff (although he was more prescient than he was poetic).
Make no mistake. I love the Law, even more than I hate the legal industry, and to a great extent my love of the former fuels my hate of the latter. I hate that the Law is reduced to merely laws, and I hate that the same lawyers who are meant to be its stewards are behind it.
I’m coming for my margarita
So, I am transitioning to Deep Tech, specifically Space. Am I just running away? Not quite. I have a plan.
See, the legal industry is a slave to other industries - they follow the money. 10 years ago, lawyers didn’t know anything about AI. 5 years ago, they still couldn’t give a shit about it. Now they’re all trying to style themselves as ‘experts’ on ML, data protection, and ‘Tech’. You will see the same thing happen with space.
As a space lawyer, I can tell you that virtually no one in the legal industry takes space law seriously today. Mark my fucking words, they will all be tripping over themselves to try and show how they’ve “always been interested in space” and “have been keeping up with the space industry since Falcon 9”.
Because the only way to drive innovation in the legal industry is to drive it elsewhere first. If I’m going to have any hope of returning Law to being ‘an honourable profession’, I have to leave.
I am building a space company today, because I know they will be trying to sell me their services tomorrow. And when they do, I will be sitting in their conference rooms, leaning back on their nice leather chairs, and I will say,
“Before we start, I’d like a margarita please.”
Because if I couldn’t get it by joining them, and beating them is pointless, then I’ll just have them serve it to me.
(End note: I might as well announce now (in a soft way) that I am building Charter, and we’re creating a platform for satellite operators that offers them a streamlined end-to-end collaborative mission planning pipeline to make it easier to launch satellite missions.
If you’re in the space industry working on anything satellite-related, I want to talk to you. Sign up on Charter’s waitlist and I will send you a guaranteed meeting invite, because I want to hear your perspective. Everyone matters on Charter.)