This page is for trainee lawyers, associates and in-house counsel preparing for a firm or company interview. Most rounds test four things: why you chose this practice area, how you actually work a matter, whether your ethics hold under pressure, and whether you can explain the law to a client in plain words. Expect stories from past matters, what-would-you-do scenarios on conflicts and deadlines, and a few checks on research and contract clauses. The rules differ between countries, so answers here stay general. Swap in your own matters and your own local rules before the day.
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Exposure: where you actually saw this work, a seat, an internship or a matter.
What clicked: the specific kind of problem you enjoyed solving.
Contrast: one area you tried and why it fit you less, said without running it down.
"I tried litigation and corporate work during my training, and the corporate side stuck. In litigation I liked the research, but most of the job was reacting to what had already gone wrong. On a share purchase I worked on, I spent two weeks on the disclosure letter and the warranties, and I realised I enjoy the work of spotting a problem before it exists and writing it out of the deal. I also like that the client is building something, so the advice feels forward-looking. Litigation taught me how contracts fall apart in a dispute, and I think that makes me a more careful drafter now."
Picking the area because it's prestigious or well paid, with no matter or task you can point to.
The setting: what the work is like here, breadth, depth, clients, pace.
This employer: two specific things you learned about their work or clients.
Fit: how your experience lines up with what they need now.
"I've spent four years in private practice, mostly advising technology companies on commercial contracts. I've loved the depth, but I keep seeing the deal from the outside. I want to be the lawyer who's in the room when the business decides what to build and how to sell it, and that's what in-house gives me. Your team caught my eye because you support a growing sales function across several countries, which means a high volume of customer contracts and a need for good templates and playbooks. That's exactly the work I've been doing for clients, so I'd be applying it from the inside rather than learning it from scratch."
Saying you want in-house for shorter hours, or knowing nothing about the firm beyond its size.
The matter: client type, the problem and the goal, with names left out.
Your part: the tasks you owned, not what the team did.
Outcome: how it ended and one thing you'd do differently.
"Without naming the client, it was a mid-sized manufacturer that had a long-term supply dispute with a distributor. I joined as the junior associate. My part was reviewing about three years of correspondence, building the chronology, and drafting the first version of our letter setting out the claim. The chronology turned out to be the most useful thing, because it showed the distributor had accepted late deliveries for months without complaint, which weakened their termination argument. The matter settled at mediation. Looking back, I'd have flagged that pattern to the partner earlier instead of waiting until the chronology was finished, because it changed our strategy."
Naming the client or confidential details, or claiming the whole team's work as your own.
The draft: what you handed in and what the feedback was.
Your reaction: how you handled it in the moment.
The change: what you do differently now, with proof it stuck.
"In my first year I sent a partner a research note that ran to eight pages. It came back with one line on top: 'What's the answer?' Honestly, it stung, because I'd worked late on it. But she was right. I'd written up everything I found in the order I found it, and the conclusion was on page seven. I asked her for ten minutes to understand how she wanted notes set out, and she said answer first, then reasons, then risks. Since then every note I write starts with a two-line answer. A few months later she started sending me research directly rather than through the senior associate, which I took as the real feedback."
Blaming the partner's tone, or a story where the feedback changed nothing about how you work.
The mistake: a real one, stated plainly, not a disguised strength.
Escalation: how fast you told your supervisor and what you said.
Fix and system: how it was put right and the check you added so it doesn't recur.
"On a property deal I summarised the leases in a due diligence report, and I said one lease could be transferred without the landlord's consent. A week later, while building the completion checklist, I found a deed of variation in the data room that I'd missed. It added a consent requirement. I went to the partner that afternoon with both documents and a corrected paragraph, and said plainly that I'd missed it. She told the client the same day, and we asked the landlord for consent before completion, so no harm was done. It could easily have gone the other way. Since then I check every summary against the full document list, including amendments and side letters, before I sign off a report."
A fake mistake like working too hard, or any hint that you fixed it quietly without telling anyone.
The point: what you disagreed on and why it mattered to the client.
How you raised it: privately, with the authority or wording in hand.
The outcome: what was decided and how you acted on it either way.
"A senior associate wanted to rely on a notice clause to terminate a contract for the client, and was sure notice by email was fine. When I read the clause, it said notices had to be delivered by hand or post to a named address, and there was nothing allowing email. I didn't raise it in front of the client. I went to his office with the clause marked up and said I was worried the notice could be challenged as invalid. He pushed back at first, then read it again and agreed. We served the notice by hand at the named address, as the clause required, and sent an email copy as a courtesy. The client never knew there'd been a debate, and that's how it should be."
Either never having disagreed with anyone senior, or a story where you went over their head without talking to them first.
The load: what was due and how the deadlines were set.
Triage: which dates were hard, such as court or contractual, and which could move.
Communication: who you told early and what you asked for.
"There was a week where I had a court filing due Thursday, a disclosure deadline on another matter Friday, and a partner wanting a contract review for a signing on Wednesday. On Monday morning I listed every deadline and marked which ones were fixed by a court or a contract and which were internal. The filing and the disclosure couldn't move. The signing could slip a day if the client agreed, so I told the partner on Monday, not Wednesday, that I could give her a full review Thursday or the high-risk clauses by Wednesday. She took the second option. Everything went out on time, and I learned that raising a clash early gives the partner choices, while raising it late only gives them a problem."
Saying you just worked all night every night, with no triage and no early warning to anyone.
Confirm: check the rule or order that sets the date and how it's counted.
Escalate now: call the supervising lawyer tonight, not by email tomorrow.
Deliver and fix: get the filing done or seek an extension, then fix the diary process.
"First I'd double-check the date against the court order or the rule that sets it, including how days are counted and the filing cut-off time. If it's real, I'd phone the supervising lawyer straight away rather than send an email they might read in the morning. Then I'd find out what exists: is there a draft, what evidence do we need, who else can help tonight. If we can file properly, we do. If we can't, the partner decides whether to seek the other side's agreement or apply for more time, and that has to happen before the deadline passes, not after. Once it's filed, I'd work out how it was missed from the diary, because the same gap will catch someone else."
Waiting until the morning to raise it, or trying to rush out a poor filing alone without telling anyone.
One source: every deadline goes into the firm's diary or matter system the day it arises.
Early warnings: reminders well before the date, not only on it.
Weekly review: a regular check of the next few weeks and a second person who knows the key dates.
"Every deadline goes into the firm's matter diary the day I learn about it, whether it's from a court order, a contract or a partner's request. I never keep a date only in my head or my inbox. I set reminders a week out and a couple of days out, because the real deadline for me is the date I need a draft to the partner, not the filing date. Every Monday I look at the next three weeks across all my matters and plan the week around what's coming. And for anything that can't be missed, like a limitation date, I make sure the partner and a colleague know it too, so if I'm off sick it's still covered."
Relying on memory or a personal notebook that nobody else can see.
Realism: you know busy periods come, and you've worked through them.
Habits: how you plan, protect quality and recover.
Speaking up: when you raise workload before it affects the client.
"I know there'll be weeks around a completion or a trial when the hours are long, and I've done a few of those. What keeps my work good is having a routine the rest of the time: I plan my week on Monday, I do the hardest thinking in the morning, and I always do a final read of anything important after a break, not straight after writing it. When a busy stretch ends I actually take the evening off. And I've learned to speak up early. If I can see I'm going to be stretched too thin for more than a week or two, I tell my supervisor, because tired lawyers make the kind of mistakes clients remember."
Bragging about never sleeping, or implying you expect a strict nine-to-five in every week.
The client: who they were and what decision they faced.
Translation: how you cut the law down to risk, options and a recommendation.
Check: how you made sure they really understood.
"A founder asked me whether she could reuse some code a former contractor had written. The legal answer involved who owned the copyright, what the contract said about assignment, and whether there was any implied licence. She didn't need any of those words. I told her: 'Right now you probably can use it, but you might not own it, which matters if you sell the company. There's a simple fix: get the contractor to sign a short assignment.' I gave her the one-page document and a line she could use when she contacted him. Then I asked her to tell me back what she was going to do, which caught one point she'd misunderstood about the timing."
Describing how you explained the law in detail instead of how you helped the client decide.
Triage: read for the high-risk clauses first, not the whole thing line by line.
Decide: approve, approve with a small change, or explain the one issue that must be fixed.
Follow up: fix the process so the next deal doesn't arrive at the last minute.
"I'd say yes to looking at it straight away, and ask one question: is this on our template or their paper? If it's ours with small changes, an hour is plenty. I'd go straight to the risky areas: liability, indemnities, data protection, termination, payment and anything unusual the sales team promised. If it's clean, it's approved. If there's one real problem, like unlimited liability, I'd tell the director in one sentence what the risk is and offer a quick fix they can send the customer. I wouldn't hold the deal hostage over wording preferences. Afterwards I'd have a friendly word about getting contracts to legal earlier, and maybe a checklist so the team can spot the big issues themselves."
Either refusing to look until you have a full week, or approving without reading because the business is in a hurry.
Make sure it landed: restate the risk in plain words, with a realistic worst case.
Offer options: a softer change, a cap on the exposure, or insurance.
Respect and record: it's the client's call, so confirm your advice and their decision in writing.
"First I'd check they really understand the risk, not just that they've heard it. I'd put it in one or two plain sentences: what could realistically happen and roughly how bad it would be. Then I'd try to give them another way through, like a softer version of the change, a cap on the exposure, or checking whether their insurance covers it. But if they've understood it and still want to sign, that's their decision. Taking commercial risk is their business, and the deal may be worth more to them than the clause. I'd confirm my advice and their instruction in a short, neutral email so everyone has the same record. The only time I'd go further is if going ahead meant something unlawful, and then I'd take it straight to my partner."
Refusing to go on until the client gives in, or dropping the point without ever putting the advice in writing.
Answer first: the question and a short conclusion at the top.
Reasons: the law and how it applies to these facts.
Risks and next steps: what's uncertain, what you assumed, and what to do now.
"I put the question and the answer at the top in a few lines, so someone who reads nothing else still knows where we've landed and what to do. Then I set out the key facts I've relied on and any assumptions, because advice is only as good as the facts behind it. Next comes the reasoning: the relevant law, then how it applies here, with the counterarguments. Then the risks and how confident I am, in plain words, not hidden in qualifications. I finish with clear next steps. For a partner I keep the full citations, and for a client I cut the law right down and focus on options and the recommendation. Either way, short paragraphs and headings so it's easy to scan."
Building up through the law for pages and only reaching the answer at the end.
Preparation: the client's must-haves, nice-to-haves and walk-away points.
The trade: what you conceded and what you won in return.
The relationship: how you kept the deal alive and the tone workable.
"I ran the negotiation of a software licence for a client who was the customer. Before the first call I agreed three priorities with the client: a higher liability cap for data breaches, the right to terminate if service levels were missed repeatedly, and a cap on price increases. Everything else was tradeable. The supplier pushed hard on the data breach cap, so I offered to accept their standard payment terms and a longer minimum term, which they cared about more than we did. In exchange we got a separate, higher cap for data breaches. We closed faster than either side expected, and the client got the point that mattered most to their board."
A story about winning every point, which usually means the deal or the relationship suffered.
The behaviour: what they were doing, described factually.
Your approach: calm, written, precise, and focused on the client's goal.
Result: how the matter moved forward despite them.
"On one dispute, the other side's lawyer sent long emails late at night full of threats and accusations about our client's conduct. My first instinct was to answer every point. Instead, with the partner's agreement, I started replying only to the parts that needed action, in short numbered paragraphs, and I moved anything important to a call followed by an email confirming what was agreed. Letters like that rarely look good if a judge reads them later, and matching them wouldn't have helped us either. Over a few weeks the emails got shorter, and we reached an agreed timetable. It taught me that staying boring and precise is usually the strongest move."
Enjoying the fight, or replying in kind and calling it standing up for the client.
Client priorities: agree with the client what really matters and their fallback positions.
Tiered mark-up: fix the must-haves, flag the nice-to-haves, leave the rest.
Explain and move: short reasons with each change, and a call to close the big points fast.
"I'd start with a short call with the client to find out what they're buying, how much they depend on the supplier, and what worries them. Then I'd read the contract and sort the issues into three groups. Must-fix: things like uncapped liability for the client, no right to leave if the service fails, or the supplier owning the client's data. Worth asking for: better payment terms, stronger warranties. Accept: most of the boilerplate. I'd mark up only the first two groups, with a one-line reason next to each change so the supplier's lawyer can say yes quickly. I'd give the client a one-page summary of the remaining risk, and suggest a call early in the week on the must-haves, because trading comments by email alone won't close in a week."
Returning a document covered in changes to every clause, which kills the timetable and signals no judgement.
Stop: pause substantive work and don't share anything more.
Escalate: tell the supervising partner and the conflicts or risk team at once.
Resolve: consent, information barriers or withdrawing, depending on the rules that apply.
"First, I'd stop doing substantive work on the matter and not send anything else out. Then I'd go straight to the supervising partner and the firm's conflicts team with the facts: who the other client is, what we do for them, and what I know about them. I wouldn't try to judge it myself. Whether it can continue depends on the professional rules where we practise, whether both clients give informed consent, and whether any confidential information is at risk. Some conflicts can be managed with consent and an information barrier, and some can't be fixed at all, so the firm has to step back from one or both. Either way, the clients hear it from us, quickly and honestly, not from the other side."
Saying you'd keep working and mention it later, or that it's fine because different teams handle each client.
Refuse the wrong part: you can't make a document look signed on a date it wasn't.
Find the real need: ask why they want the earlier date.
Offer the honest route: an agreement dated today that says openly it takes effect from an earlier date, where the law allows.
"I'd say no to the backdating itself, clearly but without lecturing. Putting a false date on a document to make it look signed earlier can mislead tax authorities, courts or other parties, and it can be fraud. Then I'd ask what they're trying to achieve. Often the parties simply started working together before the paperwork caught up. In that case there's an honest answer: sign it with today's date and state in the agreement that it applies from the earlier start date. Anyone reading it can see what happened, and between the parties it usually gives the client what they wanted. It won't change how third parties like a tax authority treat that earlier period, and I'd tell the client so. If the real goal turns out to be improper, I'd take it to my partner."
Agreeing because it's 'just paperwork', or refusing without offering the client any lawful alternative.
Tell at once: the supervising partner, within minutes, with a copy of what went.
Contain: ask the recipient to delete it unread and confirm they have.
Protect and inform: assert privilege was not waived and tell the client promptly.
"I'd go to the supervising partner immediately with the email and exactly who received it. Speed matters, because in some places whether privilege survives depends partly on how quickly you acted to fix the mistake. Then, with the partner's agreement, we'd contact the other side's lawyer, say it was sent in error, state that we don't waive privilege, and ask them to delete it without reading and confirm in writing. Many professional rules at least expect a lawyer who receives something obviously sent by mistake to tell the sender, and in some places a court will stop them using it, though the details vary. We'd tell the client promptly and honestly, and be ready to go to court if the other side tries to rely on it. Then I'd look at how it happened, usually an autofilled address."
Hoping nobody notices, or recalling the email and saying nothing to the partner or client.
Tell your team: raise it with the partner and put it in writing.
Duty to the court: you can't mislead the court, and many rules require relevant adverse authority to be disclosed.
Deal with it: distinguish it, argue it doesn't apply, or rethink the strategy with the client.
"I'd flag it to the partner straight away, with a short note on what the decision says and why it matters. Hiding it isn't an option. Lawyers owe a duty not to mislead the court, and in many places the rules say you must bring directly relevant authority to the court's attention even when it's against you. So the real question is how we deal with it. Usually that means reading it closely to see if it can be distinguished on the facts, whether it's binding in our court, or whether later decisions have limited it. If it genuinely sinks the argument, the client needs to know now, because it could change whether they settle."
Saying it's the other side's job to find it, so you'd stay quiet.
What it is: protection from disclosure for confidential legal advice and, in many systems, for material prepared for litigation.
How it's lost: sharing with third parties or mixing legal and business advice.
Practical steps: keep advice confidential, separate and clearly legal in purpose.
"Privilege protects certain confidential communications from disclosure, mainly those between lawyer and client for the purpose of legal advice, and in many systems material prepared for actual or expected litigation. The names and exact tests vary by jurisdiction. In practice it's easy to lose. Forward the advice outside the privileged circle and it may be waived. Mix business chatter into a legal email and the claim gets weaker. So I keep legal advice in separate emails, limit who it goes to, and ask clients not to forward it widely. In-house it needs extra care. Advice given in a business role isn't protected, so I make it clear when I'm advising on the law. And in some countries and some regulatory investigations, in-house advice gets less protection or none, so I check before relying on it. Marking something 'privileged' doesn't make it privileged by itself."
Thinking a 'privileged and confidential' label is enough protection.
Frame it: the facts, the exact question and the jurisdiction.
Overview then sources: commentary for the map, then legislation and cases themselves.
Verify and record: check it's still good law, and note the path you took.
"I start by writing the question down in one sentence, with the key facts and the jurisdiction, because a vague question gives vague research. Then I read a practitioner text or commentary to get the map: what the rules are and which cases matter. After that I go to the primary sources, the legislation itself and the leading cases, and I read the relevant parts rather than relying on summaries. I always check that a case hasn't been overturned or doubted and that the legislation hasn't been amended. I keep a short log of what I searched and where, so if a partner asks 'did you check this?', I can say yes. I finish with a note that gives the answer first."
Starting with a general web search and quoting a summary without ever reading the source.
Commercials: what's actually being delivered, price, payment and service levels.
Risk: liability caps and exclusions, indemnities, warranties.
Exit and disputes: term, termination, governing law and dispute resolution.
"First I'd make sure I understand the deal: what the client is buying, what they're paying, and what the supplier actually promises to deliver. Then I go to the risk clauses, because that's where supplier terms usually lean hardest: the liability cap and exclusions, any indemnities, and how narrow the warranties are. After that, termination: can the client get out if the service is poor, and what happens to their data or goods when it ends. Then I check governing law and how disputes get resolved. I also look for automatic renewal and price increase clauses, because clients often miss those. Boilerplate like notices matters too, but I read it last, not first."
Reading from clause one to the end with no sense of where the risk actually is.
Limitation: caps or excludes what one party can be made to pay.
Indemnity: a promise to cover specified losses, often from third-party claims.
Interaction: whether the indemnity is inside or outside the cap, and what's carved out.
"A limitation of liability clause sets the most a party can be made to pay, usually a cap tied to the fees, and often excludes certain kinds of loss such as indirect loss or lost profits. An indemnity is a promise that one party will cover specific losses, typically third-party claims like intellectual property infringement. Indemnities can be a more direct route to recovery than an ordinary damages claim, though how much more depends on the jurisdiction and the wording. The key question is how they fit together. If the indemnity sits outside the cap, the exposure could be unlimited. So I always check the carve-outs from the cap, what the indemnity covers, and whether it's worth agreeing a separate, higher cap for it."
Treating the two as the same thing, or not realising an uncapped indemnity can make the cap meaningless.
The wording: is this event covered, by name or by the general words.
The conditions: what the clause requires, such as causation, notice and mitigation.
The effect: suspension, extension or termination, and the fallback if the clause doesn't apply.
"The answer turns on the exact wording, so that's where I start. In common law systems force majeure only exists if the contract creates it, while some civil law codes have their own version. Is the event listed, or does it fall under general words like 'events beyond reasonable control'? Then the conditions. Usually the event has to actually prevent or delay performance, not just make it more expensive, and the client has to give notice in time and try to reduce the impact. Then the effect: suspension, more time, or a right to terminate after a period. If the clause doesn't cover it, I'd look at the governing law's general doctrines, such as frustration or impossibility, but warn the client they're usually narrower and harder to rely on. And I'd tell them to send notice quickly, because missing a notice step can lose the protection."
Saying any big event like a pandemic automatically counts, without reading the clause.
Enforcement: where the award or judgment will need to be enforced.
Neutrality and privacy: a neutral forum and confidential proceedings.
Trade-offs: cost, limited appeal and the need for urgent court help.
"The first question I ask is where we'd need to enforce if we won. For cross-border deals, arbitration awards are often easier to enforce abroad than court judgments, because most countries have signed the New York Convention on recognising and enforcing arbitral awards. Arbitration also gives a neutral forum, so neither side is in the other's home court, lets you pick arbitrators with the right expertise, and is usually private. The downsides are that it can be expensive, there's very limited room to appeal a bad decision, and you may still need a court for urgent orders. So for a high-value international contract I'd usually lean to arbitration, and for a small domestic one the courts may be simpler and cheaper."
Saying arbitration is always faster and cheaper, which often isn't true.
Scope: what counts as confidential and the usual exceptions.
Use and sharing: the permitted purpose and who it can be shared with.
Duration and end: how long it lasts and what happens to the information after.
"First, the definition of confidential information. Too narrow, like only information marked 'confidential', and the client's verbal disclosures aren't protected. Then the standard exceptions: information that's already public, already known, independently developed, or that must be disclosed by law. Next, the purpose: the other side should only use it to evaluate the deal. I check who they can share it with, such as advisers and staff on a need-to-know basis, and that they're responsible for those people. Then how long the obligations last, and whether information must be returned or destroyed at the end. And because it's mutual, I make sure the terms are acceptable for the client when the client is the one receiving information too."
Saying NDAs are standard and you just sign them, or missing that a mutual NDA binds your client too.
The development: what happened, in two sentences.
Client impact: who it affects and what worries them.
Legal work: the advice, contracts or disputes it will create.
"One development I've followed is the spread of new rules on how businesses use artificial intelligence, with different regions taking different approaches. For a firm with technology and retail clients, that matters in a few ways. Clients building products will need to know which uses are restricted and what documentation they must keep. Clients buying tools from suppliers will want contracts that cover who's responsible if the tool gets something wrong or uses data it shouldn't. And businesses operating in several places will need advice on following different regimes without building separate products for each. So I'd expect more regulatory advice, more contract negotiation on liability and data, and eventually some disputes."
Summarising a headline with no link to clients or to the work a lawyer would actually do.
Where it helps: first drafts, summaries, document review, searching large sets.
Where it fails: invented citations, missed nuance, confidentiality risks.
Your rule: the lawyer checks everything and owns the result.
"I'm positive about it, with clear limits. Tools are genuinely useful for summarising long documents, producing a first draft of a routine clause, or finding every contract in a large set with a particular term. That frees time for judgement, which is what clients pay for. But I treat anything a tool produces like work from a very fast junior I haven't worked with before. I check every citation against the actual source, because these tools can produce cases that don't exist. I don't put client confidential information into any tool the firm hasn't approved. And the advice is still mine, so if it's wrong, it's my name on it, not the software's."
Either refusing to use any technology, or trusting a tool's output without checking the sources.
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