Each month, we hear the stories of the people behind the law degrees at the 145-year-old, South Yorkshire-based law firm, Banner Jones. Most recently, we spoke to Director Rachael Flintoft about her route into law and, more recently, the experience of working through grief…
Hi Rachael. Can you start by telling us about your role at Banner Jones?
I work in Business Legal Services in the Sheffield office. Primarily, that’s helping people with property needs, and the majority of that work is on commercial properties.
For example, if a company is moving premises, buying or selling a property, or anything related to commercial property, we handle it. That includes writing contracts if you’re selling or leasing and reading them if you’re buying or taking a lease, which involves due diligence and investigating the property, ensuring it’s not over a mine or that a train track isn’t about to be laid through it!
How did you get into law?
I fell into law. None of my family were lawyers. In fact, nobody in my life was a lawyer. I can trace it back to, as daft as it sounds, a career advisor at school. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and a career advisor literally said, “You’re academically strong, why don’t you do law?” I agreed, and from that, they set me up with some work experience.
I went into a law firm, which was a very big national firm with offices in Sheffield. To begin with, I was just doing admin work, helping them with the photocopying and scanning, but obviously, that’s not what I was interested in pursuing. So, I knocked on somebody’s door and said, “I’m here for two weeks. Is there anything that I can watch you do, or anything more interesting that I can do?” And he took me to court with him, which isn’t the angle where I’m at now, but I enjoyed it.
I can’t, hand on heart, say I was really inspired and thought, wow, this is awesome, but I enjoyed it. I picked fairly generic A-levels, and when they finished, it was kind of, well, why not do law?
My late husband was really into art, so regardless of where it took him professionally, he wanted to study that. I didn’t feel that way, and there was nothing that I was eager to learn more about. I was more motivated by having a career. Coming from a family where no one had done law, they were very supportive, and I went and studied in Nottingham.
After university, where did you end up, and what was your route to Banner Jones?
I learned quickly what I didn’t want to do in law. The commercial property world seemed a good fit. That was 20 years ago, and I’ve never had a break. That’s just how life went. I was with the same firm, although they merged in 2007, until 2019, when I came to work for Banner Jones. An opportunity arose at the right time, and the call just came on a good day.
You’ve mentioned your partner’s death. How did that affect your professional life?
Stephen’s cancer diagnosis came in January 2020, and he died in March. When his diagnosis came, it wasn’t the case that we knew he was going to die in March. There was hope at first, not much, but some. I carried on working because we’re busy commercial lawyers, and you’re either in or you’re out.
I took the view that this was a long road ahead. I was going to have to support Stephen through chemotherapy, and there would be rehabilitation and all sorts of things that would require time off, so I didn’t need time off yet. My Managers were wonderfully supportive, and I can’t criticise the way they were with me – they were fantastic.
Bear in mind, although this was 2020, it was literally weeks before the lockdown. The timing was horrendous. I remember being in the hospice with Stephen, and they were talking about this potential lockdown, but our life was so intense that we weren’t properly thinking about it. It was like saying aliens are going to land – it was just so far-fetched.
He was alive for seven and a half weeks with a cancer diagnosis. In that time, the pain was too significant to withhold chemotherapy, so they had to manage his pain to make him strong enough to have chemotherapy. In those two weeks, it got worse, and it wasn’t worth putting him through it.
It was so unbelievable. Christmas had been normal. We spent it talking about holidays for the coming year, and then by March, he wasn’t there. It was awful, but professionally, work kind of saved me. There’s absolutely no two ways about that.
Some people can’t bear to work after such a loss, but it was the absolute opposite for me. I needed to come to work, I needed to have normality, and I needed structure. So professionally, not a lot changed. I must stress, importantly, that it was my choice. Banner Jones was quite clear that they were going to support me whatever my choice was, but my choice was to keep going.
Do you think that was the right choice for you?
I think it probably was, although we’ll never know. The way I saw it, I didn’t know what to do with time. A lot of people who I’ve met in the widowed community take time off work – months, years in some people’s cases – but I truthfully didn’t know what I would do if I was off. The kids were in school, or they were for about two weeks, and then lockdown came. It’s not like I could jet off and see the world – that wasn’t an option – so I just thought, what would I actually do with time?
Was keeping busy with work at that time important to you?
It was for me. Some of my clients I confided in, and some I didn’t, so for some people at work, I wasn’t the widow – I was still just the lawyer. This was important because people do put labels on you, and I didn’t want everybody to feel sorry for me.
I enjoy my work and the diverse set of clients I have. Sometimes I’ll be on a call with somebody in London talking about a large investment, then I’ll put the phone down and speak to somebody from Stocksbridge about a fish and chip shop, and I love that.
It was a distraction and it also kept me grounded as to who I was. And to put it bluntly, it kept money coming in, which is the harsh reality. It was the best thing for me at that time, although I’m an advocate that it isn’t the best thing for everyone.
You mentioned the timing, did lockdown and the pandemic make it even more difficult to process the trauma?
Although it was not something I wanted, and it affected people terribly, in a way, it became a bit of a cushion because I didn’t want to bump into people in the street anyway. Being told to lock my door saved me from having to justify that I wanted to lock my door to the outside world.
I carried on working because working from home became a new thing. I’ve since gone full circle, and I’ve tried all sorts of flexible arrangements, but I’ve concluded that, for me, coming into the office in the centre of Sheffield is better. The boundaries and the car journey to switch off are better for my mental health.
How have you coped since, and has it changed your perspective on life?
Work has continued to be helpful for me. You’ve got to try to move forward. Whenever you’ve had trauma, some days are easier, and some aren’t.
It’s changed so much about me. I think subconsciously I’d always thought that most people are a product of their own efforts. I always thought I’d worked hard, and that’s why I’d gotten to my position. No doors were opened for me. However, going through this trauma, which was outside of my control, has made me see the world totally differently.
Whenever I meet someone now, I’m very aware that I don’t know their backstory and bad things might have happened to them. It’s changed my understanding that not everyone has been dealt the same hand of cards, and it’s made me realise my level of privilege.
It’s changed my levels of empathy. Something like this has to change you, and I feel that this is a positive change in me. Building relationships with my clients is a big part of my job and having a clearer understanding of the fact that my clients are all different and experiencing different things has really helped with this.
I try to bring that change into the business; law hasn’t always been very diverse, and it’s up to my generation to make sure everyone who’s capable gets a chance.
