My father is Greek, my mother was English. There’s been no law in the family, much more of a trading background on my father’s side. But there is a wonderful circularity between his old Greek shipping mates that would be in my environment as a child, and the fact that Clyde & Co is the world’s number one marine firm.
I had an open mind going into articles. I was lucky to have a seat in Paris, which is disputes and arbitration. A combination of that plus the domestic disputes work I did, I just preferred it to corporate or real estate.
I qualified at Osborne Clarke in Bristol and spent the first year after qualifying with the commercial litigation team. One of the partners I did a lot of work for did property litigation. Fantastic times. I wouldn’t replace it with anything. It was the early 1990s, we’d had the boom and were dealing with the aftermath. A hell of a learning curve.
I was sent to a smallholding in Haverfordwest. Never been before, never since. Taking a witness statement on behalf of a retired couple. There I was in my suit and City brogues, taking a statement from this delightful little old lady. Every season the local farmer was eradicating part of their boundary – that was the dispute. Suddenly the farmer emerges on his tractor. He gets off and starts remonstrating. Gets back on his tractor and attempts to run me down. Not an experience you get in the City.
I had two occasions where people were taking overdoses on the phone as they were speaking to me. As a brand new lawyer, that was sobering. Those years were intense, eventful, sometimes comedic, but it gave me a massive appetite for litigation.
I was influenced by my best clients. The entrepreneurs. The ones who saw the big picture and used the law as a means of reaching their objectives.
If you look at the profession, there’s just a phenomenal talent in the UK. I tried to pick off the best lessons from these remarkable people.
There have been two parts of my career: the disputes lawyer and the senior partner. Prior to management, it was working on some of the largest, most complex litigation in the UK in the 1990s. Mopping up the aftermath of deregulation and Big Bang. Huge insolvencies. The failed IPOs and capital-raising activities. Groundbreaking work, incredibly stimulating. You never lose that addiction.
At the beginning of my career the solicitor’s profession felt old-fashioned. There’s been a massive improvement in working environment for lawyers, flexible working and technology.
Suddenly the farmer emerges on his tractor and starts remonstrating. Gets back on the tractor and attempts to run me down.
If you ask any litigator for their most memorable case, you evoke an amazing array of emotions. From sitting there at 3am when your key witness has gone AWOL to that tremendous feeling where you guide a client through and get a judgment in their favour.
There was one case 15 years ago for a very well-known professional services firm. A rotten apple had effectively challenged six of its major global relationships. I remember sitting with the CEO. We talked about the legalities but then he cut me short – ʻThat’s fine, but I need you to know one thing: these are the commercial realities. You have to investigate and mitigate these matters, but you also have to work with me to restore these broken relationships.’ When I said clients could be inspirational, that client was inspirational.
It was undoubtedly the most challenging period of my career [leading Barlow Lyde & Gilbert into its 2011 merger with Clyde & Co]. I had a very fixed view about Barlows and where it needed to go: we could either continue as we were or, having regard to the strongest performers in the business, find a route to move up another level.
The merger with Clyde & Co was the right one due to the synergies and lack of clashes between the businesses. I had an absolutely clear conviction it was the right thing for 90% of the business. But you don’t compromise the independence of a law firm that’s been in business since 1836 without real challenges. Convincing the partnership was incredibly challenging but unbelievably rewarding.
Ahead of the vote, I was having a heated discussion with one partner. He was stomping around my room and I said: ‘Take a seat and we’ll try and consider this more dispassionately.’ He took a seat, which then literally collapsed. He ended up on his back, legs in the air. No matter how much he tried to be angry, it was impossible. We resolved that point quickly and moved on.
What we have studiously built in the US is born primarily of market-leading practitioners who want to come to Clyde & Co because of what it represents. They come very often because they’ve approached us.
I do carry an innate understanding of what it’s like to be in that merger vortex. Those of us involved in the original merger can be highly empathetic to those who encounter changed environments. But time is the best means of assimilating.
I spend a huge amount of time travelling the world. It’s a privilege and a burden – six months a year on the road. You are constantly reminded the reason you’re sitting there with a world-class client is because you’ve got a world-class colleague.
Clyde & Co has a particular DNA and a particular culture. We have partner groups who think nothing of flying to an emerging country in sub-Saharan Africa or the depths of Latin America or Asia. We have a swashbuckling DNA. Strong characters, not paint-by-numbers partners.
He took a seat, which literally collapsed. He ended up on his back, legs in the air. No matter how much he tried to be angry, it was impossible.
I’m a massive sports fan. I followed the World Cup, although my passions are rugby and cricket. I’m a season ticket holder at Bath and when I’m not travelling I try to get down there. I refuse to pay for the posh seats. I’m in the Thatchers Stand end and cheer from behind the posts. Great fun and a great tonic.
I played too much sport in my youth so now have no cartilage in my left knee so I’m not throwing down 90mph missiles for my local club. So it’s predominantly watching. If you spoke to those who were close to me, it would be wrong to underestimate just how much of a sports fanatic I am. I can’t help it.
Every year I set myself a target of doing one of the classic Alpine climbs. In my role when you have a diet of internal management and eating and drinking for a living, it’s essential that you have objectives to focus on. That feeling of getting physically fit and reaching the crest of the mountain is brilliant. I’m proposing to go at the end of August to do Stelvio [the mountain pass in Northern Italy].
A source of marital tension: I refuse to go to the cinema. I feel like I’ve got other things to do. For various personal family reasons, very late in the day I was introduced to Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon a couple of years ago. When I have quieter moments at home I drift towards that. Extraordinary depth.
In the winter months, give me an Ardbeg whisky. No Saturday night is complete without lighting the fire, pouring a tumbler and relaxing into that. In the summer, it’s white wine. The one constant throughout the year is red.
Regrets? The overall structure of my career, absolutely not. For as long as the firm has me, it will be a privilege. On a day-to-day level I have many regrets where I wish I had approached individuals and issues in a different way. I think I’m getting better at eradicating the frequency of things I regret, but I’ll let colleagues and family judge that.
I talk to a lot of younger lawyers coming in and my mantra is: ‘Take the work and clients very seriously. But don’t take yourself seriously.’ I have never seen anybody who likes a pompous lawyer. It’s not a one-liner, it’s fundamentally what I feel.
Simon Konsta is senior partner and chair of the management board at Clyde & Co