Drugs, Temporary Roles, and Permanent Impact on Mental Health

The Difficulties Many “Permatemps” Face Behind The Scenes

This is the first piece I’ve written in a long time about something other than drugs and drug addiction. Don’t worry, I’m working in the pharmaceutical law mass tort industry! Well I am for now, until my temporary role ends, then all the permanent employees involved go back to their lives and I go back to the unemployment line. Getting trapped as a “permanent temp” in the legal field hurts badly. I’ve tried describing it to others but I know I’ve fallen short. I’ve explained that it hurts in an “always the bridesmaid, never the bride” way to feel good enough for temporary projects and never good enough for the real job. I’ve dabbled in creative writing like poetry to express the almost impossible-to-put-into-words feeling that plagues professionals everywhere. I’ll start here with an example of that, then get into my current heartbreaking saga about the job that gave me a specialty, made me fall in love, then kicked me out of the area of expertise forever. Well really, I got duped into believing I actually had a specialty and kicked myself out of the industry. I can take the blame for my actions and mistakes. Lots of successful people with permanent employment can’t, but that’s a different story.

 She’s blessed the lawyers let her work there
 As disrespect destroys her she tries not to care 
 She accepts her employer’s every ask
 She endures burnout from too many tasks 
 They ignore her and the assignments she sends 
 She obscures the hurt. She doesn’t mind, she pretends.
 Her mental health has declined, and her confidence 
 A rental employee, confined to life as a temp. 

I’ve been working tremendously hard since June monitoring and consulting on a high profile, first-of-its-kind, all over the news, jury trial in a popular pharmaceutical area of law. Of course it’s a temporary role; all of mine are, seemingly forever. As much as I’ve learned throughout my career, I’ve never felt before that I’ve had a specialty or anything close to an expertise. I never felt I could identify a legal field as “mine,” my area of work, my area of expertise. Whenever people would ask me what type of law I practiced, I hated the question and dreaded forming some type of fumbled response. For the past few months, for the first time in my entire career as an attorney, I’ve loved answering the question. People have listened excitedly as I described my work. Some of my relatives have told me for the first time that they were proud of me. This has never happened with my legal work and when this trial ends, it never will again.

I know only three months have elapsed, but it’s three months of every day, beating this type of information in my brain, studying it to learn more, researching it, keeping current with everything that gets filed, not just in the one trial, but the related multi-district ones too. I’ve done so much writing and analysis and actually enjoyed all of it. For once, I’ve felt fulfilled working as an attorney. Most importantly, every day I watch teams of various attorneys craft their arguments, question witnesses, engage in heated sidebars with opposing counsel and the judge. The partners have praised my hard work so far, told me multiple times how helpful it is to them, and even gave me a sub-assignment on a related case in California (virtually). I learned even more, got to see different angles from different attorneys and how another judge handled similar issues that commonly arise in this type of litigation. The two cases are also incredibly different procedurally.

I’ve learned more about this subject than I’ve ever learned about anything in the legal field throughout my entire career, including in law school and including while I studied frantically for the bar exam. I finally felt like I had some sort of feasible destination in sight, even if still way in the distance. I knew that I loved doing this type of work and that for years to come, there would be a need for it. I’ve had a front row seat for a first-of-its kind pharmaceutical jury trial and thought that positioned me in a unique way that would finally allow me to craft a real, worthwhile career. It SHOULD position me that way.

For the first time in years and for approximately three seconds, I believed a place for me in the legal industry actually existed. I figured at the very least I could make my own business out of doing this and consult for other firms on their trials. Maybe a firm would even want to take me in-house. I could lead the inevitable years of discovery related projects these cases will have for years to come. I thought I actually had options, and I thought that discovery one was the least appealing one, but still better than run of the mill document review. I thought people would actually recognize the value of my help, perhaps even ask me to work with them.

Then I looked into logistics, consulted with experts in that area of litigation who know exactly how it works and what I’ve been doing. I got multiple viewpoints from trustworthy, intelligent sources. To my surprise, after years of having people laugh at my “lack of experience,” finally obtaining a real specialty / expert level of knowledge crushed me down lower than any mind-numbing, embarassing-to-include-on-a-resume, document review role ever could. I quickly learned, undeniably, that any potential career I had in this area of law ended the day I accepted this temporary position. Any similar work in a different area of law (already not what I want and compromising anyway) would require me to go back and get a masters in psychology at the very least. Then I could explore the chance of MAYBE getting a role in work that completely differs from the area I’ve worked so hard learning. Maybe an entry level temp gig. Many people involved have confirmed that the work I’m doing entails painstaking effort and unique skill, even experienced trial lawyers on the case. Some have asked for and respected my opinions on certain aspects of the trial. During these glorious three seconds, I felt proud that the trial lawyers I’d watched daily considered me anywhere near their level. The three seconds of feeling like a real attorney made it seem like I could change the game or at least have a turn playing it.

Now as I watch the attorneys trying the case mull over the last parts of the plaintiffs’ (there are multiple plaintiffs; I promise I know how the apostrophe works) case in chief, the difference in our roles blinds me until I can’t see ahead anymore, just backwards. They’re ready for the trial to end. They’re not fired once it does with no chance of working on anything relating to their newfound skillset again; of course the difference clouds my forward vision. It’s gone. Last time I had a temporary role involving substantive legal work end and had to start doc review again, I broke down in tears on a video call with an attorney I’ve spoken to for years now due to our mutual interest in mental health in the legal field. It upset me so much I couldn’t hold it together until the end of the call; I remember feeling humiliated. That job that ended was nothing like the one I’m nearing the end of now; I enjoyed it, but I didn’t feel the attachment or passion, and it hadn’t become my specialty.

This is going to crush me and I’m starting to prepare for the blow now, because I know it’s going to be bad. It feels even worse this time, because I’m trying not to beat myself up for making such a foolish mistake. I was a fool to accept the role in the first place; other people who ended up doing doc review forever warned me not to take this. “It’s a chance to actually practice though,” I remember protesting. “It’s not doc review.” They already knew the inner workings of the trap though. They told me even if the pay sounded good, it wasn’t; it was a joke. The workload was astronomical and I wouldn’t get to take credit for it in the form of resume credentials or recommendation letters. The agency describes the role the exact way it describes doc review. If I bothered to put it on a resume, it would make me look worse. I asked so many questions and kept hearing “don’t do it.” Then I made my next mistake. I asked people outside of the “permatemp” crew. I asked people who didn’t even realize such a thing existed. I let them talk me into it. I didn’t notice the self-sabotage. This job sounded so much different.

It sounded so unique and like such a learning opportunity that I had to do it anyway. I had other mentors agree with my silly viewpoint there too. I wasn’t wrong; the job was exactly as unique and different as I thought. But that doesn’t change a thing; it just sets me back. I am doing my best to remain calm and deal with the fact that this is how my career ends. I know I can’t return to a life of document review, but I don’t qualify for anything else. I’m back to where I was before, except I’ve moved farther in the wrong direction. Giving up law seems like the only way out of this cycle of torture. I can’t handle taking the bar exam again; it was miserable for me and my husband and that was when we both believed I’d at least get some small, modest legal role after passing. If I took it again, I’d know that I might be doing all that work and end up never working as an attorney. I would never advise a friend to give up on their dreams, but I also never would advise a friend to work impossibly hard knowing that no matter what they do, they’ll never succeed. I’m proud of myself for looking out for my mental health when I “should” be neurotically looking for work despite the astonishing setbacks. I can’t do anything to change the destruction of my career, but I can do my best to at least take care of myself during what promises to be a very difficult time.