Cats in a flap

'Cat herder required' would, according to many observers of our profession, be an appropriate advertisement for the post of managing partner at a modern day law firm (Herding Cats by Gerald Riskin and Patrick J McKenna,1995). It seems that the authors of textbooks in this area categorise us as difficult individuals who prove tricky to manage and relish independence to the extent that teamwork can prove problematic. How rude.

It is, however, pleasing to know that some consider the topic of man management within law firms of sufficient import and interest to dedicate entire books to it, as in my experience this vital issue is far too often overlooked. Managing people can be pooh-poohed by lawyers as a soft skill which is not worth training and investment, but as firms make money from the work carried out by their staff surely it should be at the very top of any partners' summit agenda?

I have worked at four different firms to date; all of them were large national practices. The vibe at each was different but I found the majority to be enjoyable places of work. My heads of team were all divergent personalities but I found a comfortable way of working with each one.

Unfortunately, I can think of at least one horribly clanging example of appalling man management from each of my former firms. In one instance, my head of team rather shamefacedly handed me a 'Private & Confidential' envelope one evening before scurrying off on a week's holiday as fast as his little legs would carry him. Unsurprisingly, the pay increase outlined inside was small (but at least it was an increase) but my disappointment was containable... or it was until one of the legal weeklies chose my birthday of all days to publish the starting salaries of newly qualifieds in a number of Manchester firms, mine included, and I learned that each of my post-qualification years was apparently valued by my employer at under £700. It was not the best birthday present.

The last straw

I heard that one solicitor's salary was in fact lower than the published NQ rate, which presumably worked just fine as hush hush HR arrangements go until said solicitor read in black and white their employer's view of their true worth. How could the firm have approved publication of this explosive material? A virtual riot ensued and the add-on pay rises which were issued to those who shouted the loudest probably cost them rather a lot '“ not to mention the much more painful loss of resigning staff for whom this was the last straw.

The most memorable faux pas has to be the decision of one firm to issue, hot on the heels of another lacklustre pay rise, a pack of bright pink playing cards to every employee. Mine was waiting on my chair when I arrived. It had been designed (at no doubt significant expense) to be eye-catching, which its lurid colour ensured that it was, and like most other recipients of this curiosity I opened it up to find that it contained only three cards. Each featured a photo of one of the senior partners with a nice little summary of their interests and the like. I believe the idea was to smash down any perceived ivory tower and allow the staff to view the firm's leaders as real human beings. However, a sensitivity glitch arose as the cards also stated where the partners lived, and one of them listed various homes around Europe. Talk about rubbing salt into a wound. The plan to issue another 49 cards (I don't think there were to be any Jokers!) was hastily scrapped. I still wonder how much of that year's budget was squandered on this internal marketing initiative, and how well it would have worked had the timing not been so off. My boss at the time says that he still recalls my very audible reaction annually as he approaches his team's pay rise task with foreboding.