The Humbling Reality of Working for an Abusive Attorney

To those of you who have worked for an abusive attorney… my heart truly goes out to you.

I know what it feels like.

I have worked for an abusive attorney. She was verbally cruel, constantly belittling, and seemingly fueled by criticism. There was no such thing as a “good job” or “thank you” – until the end was near. But this ending you won’t guess yet. 

There was only the next mistake she assumed I would make, the next moment she could use to remind me that I was beneath her.

I was told I was stupid. Not occasionally. Not in a “bad day” kind of way. In a routine kind of way. The kind of way that eventually makes you question your own intelligence, even when you know you’re capable. Even when you know you’re working hard. Even when you know you’re doing your best. This made me second guess how I would handle a situation. It was probably going to be the wrong way no matter how well I had thought it out. 

It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t lived it: how repeated verbal abuse doesn’t just hurt your feelings. It changes the way you move through your day. It changes the way you speak. It changes the way you ask questions. It changes the way you breathe in an office. It undermines your confidence and your intelligence. 

You begin to measure every word before you say it, not because you’re unsure but because you’re afraid. Afraid that the smallest question will turn into an outburst. Afraid that asking for clarification will be used as proof that you “don’t get it.” Afraid that you’ll be publicly humiliated for something you didn’t even do wrong. Boy, this still makes my stomach turn as I write it out. Public humiliation many times brought about sympathy and empathy from those being subjected to watching her humiliate me. It was also heartbreaking watching her humiliate and verbally belittle other people who were trying to help her. 

And the humbling part?  It’s not just that someone speaks to you that way.   It’s the moment you realize you’re accepting it.

Because you need the job.  Because you need the paycheck.  Because you’re trying to survive. 

At the time, I desperately needed a job, so I stayed.

Not because I thought it was normal. Not because I believed I deserved it. Sometimes people don’t leave toxic workplaces right away, or because they’re weak, but because they’re trying to be responsible. We had just put in an offer on a house. I had to be employed in the Bay Area to qualify for the mortgage. I was stuck for the moment, with no backup plan.

So I endured it.

And yes, there were moments that were so absurd they almost felt unreal. I wrote down that she wanted grape soda. I got the exact grape soda she described in detail to me. Remember, in her eyes I was stupid so she provided many details to belittle me and humiliate me. I walked to the store (in Oakland, CA, from Lake Merit  to the Whole Foods market; if you know, you know). Grocery bags with good handles in hand to carry the items she wanted. Wouldn’t you know it. She didn’t want grape soda!! I had it written down, on my notepad but she said she didn’t say grape soda. Sigh….you can only guess the language that was spewed at me for this “mistake”. 

At other times, I was ordered to walk to the Whole Foods market, quite a distance from the office, to get her Voss water. Those large, heavy glass bottles. The kind that feel like a workout just carrying them. I remember thinking, Well… I guess I’m getting my exercise in. It’s almost laughable now, but it wasn’t funny then. Because it wasn’t really about the water. It was about power. It was about control.

It was about making sure I understood that no matter how hard I worked, no matter what skills I brought to the table, no matter how much I helped keep her practice afloat… I could still be treated like I was nothing. That’s what abusive attorneys do. They don’t just give feedback. They humiliate you. They don’t just manage. They dominate.

And if you’ve never experienced that dynamic, it can be hard to grasp how deeply it affects you professionally and personally. Because you’re not just dealing with a difficult boss.

You’re dealing with someone who holds your livelihood in their hands. Someone who can turn the workplace into an emotional minefield.

You still have to show up. You still have to perform. You still have to answer the phone with professionalism. You still have to support clients going through some of the hardest moments of their lives. While quietly being torn down behind the scenes.

That’s why working for an abusive attorney is such a humbling experience. It forces you to tolerate things you never thought you’d tolerate. It forces you to question your worth and your competence. 

The truth is that a toxic attorney doesn’t just damage morale. They damage confidence. They create fearful teams, high turnover, and constant instability.

And in many cases, they don’t even realize the trail of emotional exhaustion they leave behind… because they’ve normalized their behavior. They’ve justified their behavior. 

Towards the end, after seven months of abuse, she got very sick. She was in and out of the hospital and in and out of care homes. I saw her decline rapidly. I went to the care homes to take her case files that needed her attention. I used the wrong bag, I looked like a bag lady, I wasn’t dressed properly, I brought her the wrong files, I brought too much stuff, etc. etc. She bought me a professional looking file bag to bring instead of my trusty black rolling bag that I could fit so many more things into. She ordered me not to bring the rolling bag to the facility again. It was a brown leather Levenger briefcase tote. She told me she paid over $400 for it – something else to humiliate me with. (13 years later, I still have the bag.) 

The staff in the care home were being verbally abused and belittled. I empathized with them and tried my best to help them navigate around her verbal barrages to minimize the verbal abuse. I was present during some of the abuse and tried to stop it but was quickly told to shut my mouth. Funny thing, the only person she didn’t verbally abuse was the nurse or aide who beautifully braided her hair. For once, I heard her praise someone. 

At one point, she was sent home. A neighbor agreed to drive her to the office in her BMW. He was a kind, elderly gentleman. Because it was difficult to get out of the car, I met them downstairs with files and things she needed. When I got to the car, she was verbally berating this kind gentleman. He was having trouble figuring out how to work something in the car. She asked if I was any smarter than him if I might be able to figure it out. Sigh…. I hopped in the driver’s side and the gentleman and I figured it out together. No thank you. Just more orders to go back upstairs to get her the other things I somehow forgot. 

The next part is a bit strange. She started being nicer to me. She actually thanked me a few times for the good work I was doing with the clients and for keeping the cases moving forward. She thanked me that opposing counsel and other colleagues were singing my praises, and she said she liked hearing those good things about me. 

And here’s the part that still feels unbelievable to say out loud…

I stuck it out… until she died. YES!!! She died with an open, active practice.

If you’ve never seen what happens when someone like that leaves this world abruptly, especially while still practicing law, it’s hard to describe the strange mix of emotions that follows.

There was shock.  But there was also something else. A heaviness lifting. A sudden silence where the tension used to live. A realization that I had been carrying more stress than I even knew.

It was one of those moments that reminded me: some workplaces don’t just challenge you. They change you. They teach you to brace for impact. They train you to anticipate anger before it arrives. And healing from that takes time.

If you’re reading this and you’ve worked for someone like that, I want you to know this:

You are not weak for staying. You are not stupid for trying. You are not less-than because someone treated you that way.

Sometimes, the most capable, hardworking, loyal legal professionals are the ones who get targeted the most because abusive people don’t want competence. They want control.

If you’re still in that environment right now, I hope you hear this clearly:

You deserve better. You deserve leadership that teaches, not terrorizes. You deserve training that builds you up, not tears you down. You deserve a workplace where professionalism goes both ways.

Because no job, no title, no paycheck, no resume builder, is worth losing your confidence, your peace, and your sense of self.

I didn’t share this story for sympathy. I share it because I want you to know you are not alone. I’ve lived it. 

That is exactly why I created Legal Staff Training (LST). I believe the legal workplace can be better: better training, better support, better leadership, and better systems that don’t rely on fear to get results. My passion is helping law firms strengthen their teams through education and structure, and helping staff feel competent, confident, and respected. We can raise the standard together. It starts with how we train, lead, and support the people who keep the practice running.

By Mary Lou Floyd, CCLS, Sr. Paralegal

Founder & Instructor

LST - Legal Staff Training