My Ideal Office

I have my own room  at the office where I am currently practicing at but it is more of a storage area. I’d have my books and files in the room, my desktop computer if I need to do my work. Most of the administrative related work would be done there but not actual legal work. Most of the time I did my thinking and drafting and non-admin work elsewhere out of the office. But if I am particularly tired and still need access to my books, I would lug the books that I need from my room to one of the meeting room where there are windows. I would open one just to listen to the hustle and bustle of the road next to my building while I work and to let the cigarette smoke out. Occasionally I would peer out of them to the City outside. Watch people go about their business while I try to coax my brains into thinking. Them old grey matter would take a bit of time to warm up. When I really need to think without any interruptions, I would do my work out of the office entirely.

 

Before the Boycott and pre Covid I would work out of a Starbucks at the Curve. Sit at a secluded table with a hot chocolate and just get down to work for hours. I could work out of PJ’s historic A&W, a random mamak, a neighbourhood surau, Palace of Justice’s library, the Bar room at court complexes. Whether hours long sessions or in snatches. Anywhere but the office so long it has roof and power socket. I feel boxed in both physically and mentally at the office. I would be like a horse chomping at the bits. Restless for wide open space for me to stretch my legs. The ambient noise of an office is too distracting for me. The hum of the air conditioning,  phones ringing, the sound a photocopier, the clackety clack of the lawyer next door typing furiously on the keyboard, footsteps of people going to and fro outside my room. Too loud. Too distracting. 

 

Right now there are renovations going on in the unit above me beginning sometime before 5pm (sometimes earlier) until 10pm. With all the drilling and hammering of God knows what upstairs it is impossible to concentrate let alone hold a thought. I told myself at least I know it is actual proper human being making the noise and not some supernatural entity moving furniture around or pounding something in their mortar and pestle (probably the makings of some otherworldly sambal belacan).

 

For me there must be a right balance between ambient noise and silence to allow me to be productive with my work. Too silent and it is an invitation to nap. Too loud and it is a major distraction. I find that of all the places I have worked out of eateries would have the balance of noise and silence just right. Hence my preference for them.

What about professionalism you ask? What about it?  So long as I produce cause papers to be filed in court, could appear in court properly attired and prepared for my case why does it matter where I do my work? Most of lawyer’s work are done behind the scenes anyway. Away from the eyes of the clients. The oral submissions and trials are the only ones that the client would really see.  Besides, when I work outside of the office I don’t have a plaque on the table saying: Lawyer at work do not disturb. I don’t lug the whole case file around, I don’t have to. Everything is online. I want to do my work not make a Tik-Tok video out of it. All an observer would see would be me typing away on my laptop or staring into nothing ruminating on something. I would be one of many people typing something up on their laptops. Besides, if I am thirsty or particularly peckish the ane is but one wave away or the drinks counter would not be too far away. If confidentiality is a concern, I work at a cubicle or table that gives me optimum privacy or in a corner with my back to the wall and use my own internet connection. That ought to be enough to safeguard confidentiality.

 

When situation calls for it, usually when I am co-counseling for a friend, I would do my work at their office. A few years ago I was like doctors making house calls. I would rotate between two to three offices, all my friends who are in constant need of a counsel. Most of the time their offices would be a smoker friendly premise where one could and would light up at will. Just like the olden days I suppose. When hungry we ate. Take outs or at the restaurant nearby. When tired we would take a break. Breaks would consist of throwing ideas in between small talks while cigarette smoke would hang above and around us like thought bubbles. No such thing as being stock still when I work with friends. I would walk around, peer at windows, stare at walls. All to get the juices flowing and fingers typing later on. But whether it is out of office or at friend’s the idea remains the same. Variety, not familiarity that aids my thinking process.

 

That is the usual set up for me. It works for me but not my dream working environment I have in mind.

 

The ideal office for me would have two important characteristics. It would need to have wheels and ought to be self-propelled. A touring bus is for rock artistes and football clubs, a car is too small. The ideal size would be an MPV or a cargo van converted into a mobile office. A Ford or a Maxus side panel van would be best. Man, a Maxus side panel van is just sexy. In my eyes at least. Inside would be my office. Doesn’t have to be a moving castle. Just enough for me to function as human being and legal practitioner. There would be a foldable work station flush against one side and chair also foldable when not in use, a bookshelf overhead for all my reference books within easy reach, stationery and stamps, an All-in-One printer and copier/scanner running on batteries (Canon or HP. With HP’s ink based buggery, I lean more towards Canon). Change of clothes, toiletries, an extra suit or two. Mini fridge if you are pushing it and most importantly, hooks. One behind the driver’s seat and another on either rear corner of the van or MPV for me to sling my hammock whenever I need to sleep or need to power down for a while.

 

With wheels this mobile office would have the freedom to roam the courts and allow me work at will. Kuantan today, Klang tomorrow. Roam the courts from Perlis to Johor. Maybe stop by a river or lake for a picnic or a quiet hour or two of fishing or of just plain enjoying the scenery. Inhale the clear out of town air. Go to rest area or petrol station for calls (the other kind) and stuff. Just keep driving and attending court whenever and wherever. That kind of thing.

 

It is not an original idea I admit, but I warmed up to the idea after having to travel here and there back when my MOB gig was still going on and I discovered that I enjoyed the long drives. There is something about being in between places that appeals to me. I probably had a Mongol ancestor way back. The need to be constantly on the move is in my blood. What I lack in horses I made up with horsepower. No horse blood for me, sirap ais will slake my thirst. No yurt for me, a hammock will do just fine. So long as I am on the move (that is, if I am not stuck in a traffic jam) I am free. Being on the road means freedom and I value freedom above all else.

 

Maybe I’ll put idea to practice once my boys are finally done with school and awaiting tertiary stage and get them to drive me around for a while. It’ll be a road trip for the boys.

 

That’s my idea of an ideal office.

Who are you?

 

and what do you do is often the lead up question to the primary question that could be what is your name or anak/cucu sapa ni? Usually the latter is only asked during kenduris and family functions by a very senior member of the extended family. As it is, both are just the normal questions we ask to define and categorize people we meet into neat little boxes and we all just play along. One of those all too human trait I guess.

 

The lone wolf types are an anomaly. Not the general rule. We are meant to be social animals. Hence, the need to belong, the yearning to be part of a tribe to define yourself and your place in society. I guess we go through that at every stage of our lives. From kindergarten until the day we die. Oh the things we do to just to be a part of something bigger.

 

I was not spared the same. During secondary school it was the time of a heady mix of subcultures. Skaters, Hip-Hoppers, Punks and Skinheads. You name it. I was not into overly baggy pants and I was too lazy to find myself a decent skateboard and learn to skate. While I do enjoy a bit of Rancid (even today) the Mohawk hairdo was simply too outlandish for me and it would probably would give my dear old Grandmaster a heart attack. What I do have was a hand me down safety boots from me dad (Not Doc Marten), the desire to find a backbreaking work post SPM to be part of the working class and a cheap crew cut. The suspenders would only come years and years later.  But as it was then I became a half-baked skinhead, that was until I finished reading the Skinhead’s Bible. When I finally did, I could answer proudly answer yes to the question; kau ada knowledge tak?

 

Man, the things I do just to fit in. But I never did. I still stuck out like a sore thumb. I am the proverbial square peg. At least I think so. That is my lot in life. To be an outsider looking in. I don’t mind it anymore.

 

There is no reason for me to dwell on the gender aspect of identity. Suffice to say that I am comfortable with the gender I was born into. Somethings you have a say in, somethings you do not. I guess there is a reason for Men to have fragile things hanging down there. They are meant to be both a reminder of the heavy responsibilities of a Man and of how low a Man can go if he were to do his thinking with them. To be rid of them for whatever reason or to deny their existence is to reject those responsibilities the universe has entrusted to you. But if that defines you, hey. You go, you.

  

Call it a mother’s foresight or what you will but it was my mother, not me who started me on my path towards the Law. ‘’Suka membaca kan? Pi buat Law’’ she more or less said a long time ago. So I went to law school and graduated. With hopes of at most being a drafter at the Attorney General Chambers dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s of statutes. A safe role. Punch in, do my job, punch out. Repeat until retirement, or so I thought at that time. If left to myself I would rather be a brown Indiana Jones, robbing tombs and booby trapped caves for museums. Either that or do something to do with books or writing. I can be accused of lacking in ambition. I don’t mind. I’d rather be left alone in my corner of the world to do what I like to do. Then I found general litigation.

I began my first year of practice doing debt recovery work. Attending court to obtain JID’s and such at court before E-Review was implemented. All mundane work. Contested debt recovery files were rare. Even when I was a pupil my pupil master was a practitioner in the banking and debt recovery section. I used to be asked to serve Notice of Demands and take pictures of the property I had served the NOD at, for Feasibility Studies purposes I was told. After office hours I would be going through drafts of Proclamation of Sale all the while the General Litigation team would have their brain storming session in my De Jure Master’s room just across from my cubicle. I remembered thinking; that looks fun. It is.

 

Then, when I was called to the Bar and joined my current firm a walk-in client related to the boss came in asking for someone to represent him to recover some payments and if necessary, to fight in the courts for it over some storyboards and ideas for a TV show. Being a debt recovery and conveyancing firm, nobody had the time to entertain a potential general litigation file, except for the new guy with no portfolio to manage (me). With permission from my Boss, I went in, researched the hell out of it, issued an NoD and negotiated a settlement in favour of the client. Client left a happy man, bought me fancy dinner but at the end of the negotiation when the Settlement Agreement was inked, that was my Eureka moment. I went: Syiok jugak General Lit ni. I never looked back ever since.

 

I am in my tenth year of practicing the arcane arts of lawyering this year and yet still I dare not associate myself with the title lawyer (yes, this again) or litigator. I am competent brawler in court but to call myself a lawyer or litigator, maybe not yet. In my mind I have a long way to go before I can earn the title litigator.

 

I have a practicing certificate (for this year), I dabble in legal disputes in the courts, attend the Annual General Meeting of the Malaysian Bar whenever I can remember it but still I dare not call myself a lawyer. I dare not give a judge a dressing down on social media. I dare not call myself a lawyer online. For me the exalted title of lawyer meant the utmost dedication to the practice of the Law, to have the willingness to give all that you have in service of the Law, to have your every act and every word uttered in line with that end. Me? I have not reached that stage yet. Don’t know when or if I ever will. I am a practitioner of the Law but still I am an outsider looking in and that is fine.

 

Not to say that I am not dedicated to improve myself in my craft. I take every case that came my way seriously, attend to any prospective client the best I can even if I think theirs is a no-hope case (especially when it is a no-hope case. A lost cause are the only ones worth fighting for) while trying to fulfill the need for money. Maybe it is crass to talk about practicing Law and money in the same sentence but the reality is every law firm is a business and every lawyer provides a paid service unless stated otherwise. A business with higher ethical standard but a business nonetheless. Sometimes I wonder how Big Firms do it, that balancing act. No, I lie. I wonder it all the time.

 

In a conversation with a friend and fellow practitioner some time back about the nature of legal practice he said that in the olden days in merry olde England most legal practitioners came from the nobility stock. That might be the reason for calling the Law a noble profession. It means just that, a profession for the nobility whose lands and possessions would allow him to practice the Law free from worries of bills to pay and creditors to appease. Allowing him to fully immerse himself in the Law and to put the interest of the Client and not his own interest first. It’s easy if you are a nobleman I think. It is all that or the idea that the practice of Law is for the nobility might just be a harmless fib from that said friend. A consolation to our precarious existence as small time nobodies. But whatever it is, in a land of Datuks aplenty it does not matter in the end if you bleed blue or red or fluorescent green, we all have bills to pay. Hell, you might have to pay for your Datukship. It is the question of what you are willing to do to pay those bills. Will you cross that line between putting your interest before your client’s? Move the line a few feet? Or pretend the line does not exist?

 

In an ideal world where money and time is no object I would do cases for the heck of it, buy and read the whole lot of law books and attend as many trainings and courses as I can cram and consult as many senior practitioners that I can consult, all to improve my practice and myself, like a hypothetical noble. Alas, I am but a commoner and I do not live in an ideal world. The world I am in right now revolves around bills and debts to be paid and a little family all of which are clamoring for my attention and time is ever fleeting. So to hold myself to the likes of lawyers who lives on principle (I still need my nasik) and have the Law seeping out of their pores, is simply a big ask. There is always a price to pay. I have heard stories of lawyers coming home to an empty house, a shattered marriage, a family in turmoil, abuse substances. That is not a price I am willing to pay. I do however try my best to live up to the ideals of the Bar, to emulate the ones I look up to and adopt their convictions as mine whenever I can. I fail most of the time but not for lack of trying.

 

I once told my wife that she has my permission to slap me with her full might should I ever forget that I am a father to a two boys and a husband to a wife because when I first realized how much I enjoyed doing contested matters I know that work and life balance will be out of whack most of the time and I will need a constant reminder. A mighty slap will do. My wife and not the Law, is the pillar of my practice. Without my wife, I would not have the opportunity to hunt for opportunities to perform in court, to fight a fair and honest fight. Without my wife and her understanding and patient nature, I could have not done what I have done so far in my practice. I owe it to my wife and kids to be the best at what I do. It is my two boys and not the Law that kept me on the straight and narrow path (may it be so for ever). I know that despite their age, they know and they listen and they see every single thing that I say and do. They inspire me to be the best that I can be as a father, a husband and a lawyer and above all to be accountable for my actions, to extend compassion and understanding to my fellow man (and woman) so that maybe in the future they can say: if Abah can do it so can we.

I hope.

 

There is a scene in Fight Club that I really love. Tyler Durden and the unnamed narrator had a Chinese cashier named Raymond K. Hassel pulled out of the convenience store into the parking lot where he was questioned at gunpoint of what he wanted to be. In the end Raymond told Tyler and the unnamed narrator that he planned to be a veterinarian but stopped halfway because ‘It was too hard’’. With the gun pointed to his head, he had a promise extracted out of him that he will resume his studies to be a veterinarian. I like the scene because it was a crude reminder to us that we need that metaphorical gun pointed to our head to achieve or do what truly resonates with our soul. That yearning that kept us awake late at night. That thing that forms our identity. Screw all those excuses. The practice of Law should not be the end all and be all of you. Practitioner ought to be able to at least dual wield, maybe more disciplines apart from the Law, especially one or two or more that really calls to you. Peter the Great of Russia mastered 15 manual professions from blacksmithing, carpentry to stonemasonry. Okay, fine. He might be an absolute ruler with servants at his beck and call but you get the idea. Leonardo Da Vinci, that natural son of a notary. No noble bloodline, not a Tsar. Now that is another example of multidisciplinary individual. A lot of the big names in the Islamic Golden age have more than one expertise. The point is, the Law maybe a jealous mistress but I’d like to believe there are room in a practitioner’s life for a few more. Maybe a lawyer, silambam master and pro ballroom dancer combo. Or a lawyer, the next Man Kidal and a judo master. Something like that. Even when I was in the volunteer copper corp we were told that officers are expected to be an accomplished public speaker, a golfer and fully capable of belting out soulful tunes. I am working on the first two but the last one is beyond me.

 

Fahri once told me that there was one thinker (I forgot his name, I wrote it down somewhere) who said that there are no solutions to a problem, only trade offs. The said thinker was speaking about the unintended consequence of affirmative action for the African American in the US as I recall it. Be that as it may, the quote was a profound one and true on so many levels. It got me thinking in terms the identity we have constructed for ourselves. What we hold dear, our principles forms a bulk of our identity.

 

No person ever woke up one morning and decided to cast his lot with the Devil. That much is obvious. The fall from grace is never instantaneous. It is more like a gentle slide. In this age of blinding speed communication and hasty decisions, bills and debts past due, it is easy to make an exception. Cut a corner. Pad that bill, increase the disbursement, make something up ‘’Just this time. No one will know (But we will)’’ or ‘’Make a business decision’’ we tell ourselves. Before we know it exceptions became the norm, the general rule. What then remains of our principles? What is then left of our identity?

 

Everyday I have to remind myself that I am not how much money I have in my bank account, not my beat up car that I drive, the contents of my wallet or my beloved khakis. I am the sum of choices that I make every single day. It is not easy to stay the course, to stay you in this confused, hyper capitalistic world. The temptation to keep your head down, follow the herd and float in the calm waters of mundanity is all too powerful. Same goes to the temptation to take the easy way out of things, justify it all you want. What is wrong is wrong. Life is hard and it is not fair but that is not a good reason to be unfair to others and to yourself.  Face that 100 foot wave in your rickety old boat, spank the Devil and tell ‘im to get thee behind me. Be you, stay you come what may. Archimedes once said with a good fulcrum and a long lever, one can move the world. A good sense of who you are as a person is the fulcrum, our patience the lever. Apply that and we can truly move the world.