You punch in the number of the charity. ‘It’s a kind offer,’ you say into the telephone, and then hesitate.

The charity has offered you a job as an adviser. The money is a third of what you were pulling in as a proper solicitor before those born-out-of-wedlock partners made you redundant. But it’s a job and, just because it’s a charity, you’re not actually obliged to rock into work in sandals and espouse vegetarianism. ‘I’ve given it a lot of thought,’ you say, ‘and have decided… Can I call you back?’

Brilliant. Decisive, assertive, characterful – the kind of qualities that will catapult you back behind a desk in the Square Mile faster than you can say equity partner. But this is a fork-in-the-road moment. You’re proud to call yourself a solicitor and you worked hard to become one. It’s a profession, with an ethical code and CPD and a regulator. Collegiate. You’ve done nothing wrong and nobody has the right to take it away.

‘I’m a non-practising solicitor.’ No, you don’t like the sound of that at all; it’s like being an actor who’s resting. ‘I’m taking a career break.’ Oh, yeah – caught with your fingers in the till, were you? ‘It’s just a glitch. When the going gets tough, the tough get going and I’ll soon…’ No, you’re not even kidding yourself here.

You’ve worked hard at the networking. Knowing the direct dial number is best because, somehow, when you leave a message with the switchboard, your call is rarely returned. But you’ve managed to get through to old friends and contacts. Some sounded wary, as though redundancy was contagious. Others were smug and condescending. A few were sympathetic. All were busy. None was recruiting.

No calls from recruiters, few ads in the Gazette. So what to do? Stack shelves at Sainsbury’s? Work behind a bar? Retrain as a plumber? Go backpacking with the young people? The recession has to end some time, doesn’t it?

Or go work for the charity, advising little people with big problems. Making a difference. Giving something back. And all the other good things you said at your interview for law school. You can always go back into private practice in a year or two, when the good times begin rolling again.

You’ve been having this dialogue with yourself constantly since you opened the letter three months ago. Headless chickens are focused and purposeful compared with you. It’s time to move on.

You press re-dial on the telephone. ‘It’s a kind offer,’ you say to the charity, ‘and I’ve given it a lot of thought. Can I start Monday?’

See also