Badge of honour

I tend to hide in a corner, nursing whatever drinks and nibbles are available, at most work-based social situations. So I accept that my recent networking training, with ideas on how to work a room and ‘meet and greet’ effectively, was necessary.

One early pointer was coming up with a snappy and memorable introduction about who I am and what I do. Something to make them want to look me up on Google, connect on LinkedIn and follow me on Twitter. It turns out that “private client solicitor” doesn’t cut it. It isn’t memorable and to those outside the legal world it doesn’t mean a great deal.

Then “I’m a solicitor who deals with will, probates and powers of attorney, and I’m on the Office of the Public Guardian’s deputyship panel, so I manage the financial affairs of people who can’t make those decisions for themselves any more” is a too long winded.

“Hi, I’m Sofia and I deal with death and madness” is apparently too flippant, so I tend to fall back on “Hello, I’m Sofia, I head the care and capacity team at Lodders”, which doesn’t really describe what I do, but it’s a starting point.

Social scene

So, I can just about get a conversation up and running at networking events, but what about social occasions outside work? I have a slightly irrational fear of telling people what I do, and there are two reasons for this.

First, solicitors don’t seem to be too popular. In my experience, admitting that I am one has provoked tutting, an “oh, that’s nice” remark then myriad tales of people’s dreadful experiences with the legal profession.

Second, death, or at least planning for it, doesn’t seem to be too popular either – especially at a party, and definitely not at a kid’s party. There is no place for death or mental incapacity talk at a soft play centre.

I accept that most people are polite enough to feign an interest and not share their dislike of my profession, but there have been a couple of negative experiences that make me cautious. I can deflect this question now with a handy “I do wills and stuff” comment, which seems to work.

Of course, there can also be ‘the GP effect’. I imagine that doctors get asked all sorts of questions about people’s health when they’re out and about, and every so often someone actually wants me to give them advice about something related to what I do. This is a minefield, and can often go like this:

Them: My Grandpa died last year, ?and only two months later the bank wrote to my Nan asking for his credit card to be paid back. I complained. It’s disgusting. How can they chase a dead person for payment?

Me: Err…

Child’s mind

This issue of what I do raised its head again the other week. My eight-year-old son asked so he could write something for school. It didn’t need to be too detailed. I had recently come back from a hospital visit with a large paper bag containing a cushion, a shoe, a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a false leg – as well as the medical certificate of death that I had gone to collect – so I can’t blame him for being curious.

I thought that what I do as a deputy might be more interesting to him than focusing on the legal process when people die. I explained about how we understand things, how illness and injury can mean that people lose that ability and how in those circumstances someone has to be able to make sure bills are paid.

He listened politely and I asked what he thought. “Sounds OK,” he said. “Do you get a badge like a sheriff?”

Sofia Tayton is an associate at Lodders Solicitors

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