Lessons, Reflections and Wisdom from a Year in Limbo

The arrival of a new year invites reflection: where we’ve been, what we’ve achieved, and what we’ve learned along the way. And, of course, where we’re going to be this time next year! I’ve come to loathe that part.

The truth is that, as I write this, I am about as far removed from what I thought I would be doing in December 2025. Well, to look on the bright side: I’m not dead. Life could always be worse! Yet, after a year at the mercy of the 'hiring squad', I remain in professional limbo.

I am, of course, being glib. There is much I have to be grateful for in 2025. I met wonderful people who I now count as my dearest friends; was called to the Bar (and looked quite fetching in a wig); and – the zenith of my achievement – created PupillagePulse.

As we enter the new year, on the cusp of a new pupillage season, I thought I would share my experiences and reflections - partly in the hope that they entertain, and partly that they offer a few hard-won words of wisdom.

While completing my undergraduate degree at University of Sussex, I arranged numerous careers talks delivered by barristers from a local chambers. Alongside the usual explanations of the application process and life at the Bar, one theme cropped up repeatedly: the ability to overcome rejection. Perhaps it was arrogance, but I didn’t quite understand just how necessary – and difficult – this would be. The wisdom of this rang true throughout the course of my 2025.

Which brings me to the elephant in the room: pupillage.

The initial stress of filling out the forms, researching chambers, agonising over every word and every minutia, whacking them onto the gateway and onto the next one. Then comes the worst part. The waiting. Several weeks of purgatory spent refreshing your inbox, The Student Room, and - if you are so inclined- Pupillage Pulse, hoping someone, somewhere, has heard something.

All the while, you manage the quiet dread of seeing that so-and-so has received an offer from your dream set days ago, while your own inbox remains stubbornly, painfully silent.

This year, I was one of the fortunate few invited to a first-round interview, and was thrilled when I got to the second round. The buzz of being so close to finally beginning a professional career, after years of hard work, is difficult to overstate. It is a rare and genuinely privileged position to be in. And yet, I fell at the final hurdle.

In large part, this was a spot of bad luck. I had two interviews on the same day, a couple of hours apart - one with the Law Commission and another with chambers - in two different cities. By the time I arrived in Brighton for the second interview, on one of the hottest days of the year, I was overheated, flustered, and running on caffeine and nervous energy rather than confidence. Unsurprisingly, it was not my finest performance: devolving into a stammering mess by the end.

On offer day, I waited until 5pm without hearing anything. Eventually, I rang chambers myself, to beg for my rejection e-mail. In truth, the rejection stung. The cruel thing about these multi-round application processes is how long they unfold: weeks or months of preparation, anticipation, and emotional investment, only for it all to vanish in a single ping of the inbox.

Unlike a job or an internship, none of that effort finds its way onto a CV, even though it may have consumed just as much energy. Still, I told myself, it was a useful experience that I could apply in future interviews. At the very least, I reasoned, I could find something else for the interim – I was, after all, a barrister (unregistered).

What followed was eight months of applications, rejections, and repetition – punctuated by several similar instances of being agonisingly close, yet no cigar.

As someone who thrives on learning new things, doing challenging work – something to get you out of bed in the morning - the experience of standing still was deeply destabilising. Watching peers surge ahead while you remain at the mercy of hiring committees is quietly demoralising, and can breed bitterness: towards employers, towards the economy, and, most insidiously, towards yourself. However often you remind yourself that rejection is not personal, the growing stack of boilerplate emails has a way of eroding that conviction.

With each one, you begin to anticipate disappointment. You know exactly where to look, how quickly to skim, how to save time.“ The number and quality of candidates for this role has been exceptionally high…” *close e-mail*.

Many of you probably have similar experiences: if you haven’t you’re either a very a lucky (or clever) sod - or you have quite a lot to look forward to. As a word of advice to those entering this year’s pupillage season: keeping your head up, and finding the resolve to press on with a stiff upper lip, is far harder than some make it appear. But you are not alone in that struggle.

Very few people walk straight out of the universities (both of them) and into the job they had imagined for themselves. Progress is rarely linear, and growth does not always look like forward motion. Sometimes, it looks like showing up again - despite disappointment. That, in itself, is a mark of character, and there is some solace to be taken in that.

In his film Modern Times, Charlie Chaplin depicts humans reduced to little more than cogs in a vast industrial machine. Almost a century later, the premise feels uncomfortably familiar. Modern society has a perverse habit of training us to believe that our value lies almost entirely in our careers. I’ve seen people less ecstatic about their newborn child than some people celebrating mundane professional accomplishments on LinkedIn!

It’s not that a career isn’t valuable. Meaningful independence - moving out, starting a family, even basic survival - often depends on the security of a regular pay cheque. What drew me to the Bar in particular was the prospect of making a tangible difference in people’s lives, and of having some measure of lasting impact beyond the purely personal. But it is worth reminding ourselves that this capacity for impact is not the monopoly of lawyers, politicians, or any other profession.

The past year has been uncomfortable in many ways, yet it has also given me the bandwidth to reflect, to refocus, and to make meaningful changes. Perhaps, then, the dubious luxury of unemployment is better understood as a gift of time: time to pursue passions or personal projects - whether that is writing an article or creating a website - or simply time to be present with family, friends, and those who matter most.

Right, enough harping on. I wish you all the best of luck with pupillage applications, and the happiest of New Years!

Jared Higgins

Founder, PupillagePulse