PSA This Job Isn't Worth Dying For [Immigration]
I had quit an immigration removal defense gig circa Easter. The firm could be best characterized as a high turnover sweatshop largely effective at subsidizing the owner's (and his baby momma) lifestyle creep while treating all staff (attorneys and not) as disposable. I was hired as a trio of new attorneys, and I was the last man standing of the trio after 90 days. My supervisor and I tended to get on quite well as "vaguely unhappy with existence" gay singletons trying to make the world suck slightly less for immigrants. He labored as co-dependent, self-destructive Atlas putting in long hours on the phone (see my old thread here for a glimpse into our work culture). His willingness to do more with less, never take a vacation, and half-ass his health issues (adding 20# per year is not sustainable over a decade; the CPAP isn't a closet decoration; "6pm and still working" white claws aren't a great look) made Bob Cratchit look like a happy, respected employee with a real work-life balance.
I eventually was cracking mentally when my quasi-parental grandfather finally died (my mother and father both died young from an agonizing cancer and ALS, respectively) with no time to mourn/reflect/breathe, a sense of perpetual loneliness in my life, and work that felt like a deceptive sham on vulnerable people. Trial volumes were nonstop, and staffing was cut to the bone due to cost savings and turnover. I left before my notice was up when I saw my hearings were able to be covered. My supervisor still threatened a bar complaint over a phone call after I left the office. I hung up immediately, verified with my state that it was unlikely to amount to much, and never spoke to him again. Given firm dynamics, the bar complaint threat was likely the owner's idea, as the owner had an aversion to speaking with departing attorneys.
I recently got off the phone with former colleagues in "detention alley." My supervisor is dead at the ripe age of 35. The owner began calling around to current and former attorneys. Staff are, as far as we know, still in the dark. We strongly suspect the owner is panicking (as he does with any significant staff change) on how to replace "I have a toxic absence of boundaries" Atlas.
PSA: This job isn't worth working yourselves to death for. His immigrant clients are still turbo-fucked. The primary concern now isn't celebrating his wins or (demonstrated, if self-harmingly flawed) dedication. It's his replacement and redistribution of his cases.
My spicy take: Our cog-like role severely limits our ability to do much more than process through a system. Reforming (or smashing) systems as needed happens through other channels. Depressingly, the turbo-fucked clients aren't really all that more turbo-fucked than they were yesterday.
I will go down most likely for the funeral. Despite the bad note we ended on, I would like to see some of my former colleagues (most of whom have moved onto other firms) again. There was so much professional and personal misery that year, I almost need my own closure.