Specialist litigation firm Quinn Emanuel, whose London office has been prominent on the wave of big ticket litigation flowing through the capital, has come up with a new graduate recruitment strategy: parties.
According to firm chief John Quinn, Quinn Emanuel is going to “come to the law schools in the spring, invite all the first year students and have a fun, freewheeling 'get to know you' party with enough of our lawyers present so students can meet (and even talk for more than twenty minutes) to a real cross-section from all the offices (and not have to wear suits).”
Quinn, writing in his customary lower case style in an email to US blog Above the Law, added: “then we’ll follow up with direct submission of resumes. we think it will give more students a chance to get to know us over a longer period of time”
The bad news for law students on these shores is that Quinn Emanuel, which opened in London in 2008, doesn’t yet run a UK training contract programme. It does, however, hire newly qualified (NQ) solicitors – whom it pays a massive £97,500...
Don't dance, or - even worse - have sex with a colleague; do mix your drinks, though, advises a partner at a top London law firm writing anonymously for Legal Cheek
The advent signs give warning of the great office event. Packed pubs and restaurants with large tables of diners looking uneasy in paper hats. Highly coloured regurgitations litter the pavement at regular intervals - stark testimony of only one of "the things that can go wrong". Over the years I have learnt a few tips in respect of how to get through the event - and its aftermath - with as little pain as possible.
Alcohol, that great disinhibitor, is of course the culprit. I have never been to a temperance society's Christmas party, but I would be reasonably confident that shenanigans are at a minimum.
Alcohol is, of course, the great leveller as well. And everyone in the office can make a fool of themselves at an office party. Here are a few tips to help you through the evening and afterwards:
A traumatised Debbie Matthews recounts some of the incredible scenes she witnessed at the number one Christmas party ticket in town
It’s the night of the barristers' chambers Christmas do - the most anticipated social event in a lawyer’s diary. The ivory invitation has been proudly propped up against my computer for three months, and my fellow female colleagues and I have all bought new outfits for the occasion.
We walk there, or rather hobble through the snow, having made ourselves up in the office toilets beforehand, trying to look as though we always wear tight pencil skirts, expensive perfume, killer red suede heels and lip gloss to the office.
As soon as we enter chambers, we are greeted by a barrister with an oil slick where his hair should be. He hurriedly splashes a glass of plonk in our hands. Meanwhile, another older barrister sleazes up to us, placing an arm - Hugh Hefner-style - around the waists of me and a female colleague. We make our way up the stairs.