In my early twenties, I waitressed part time at a local restaurant. The job description was actually fancier than that and I was apparently a hostess, which, I hasten to add, meant that I showed people to their tables, handed them their menus, took their orders and eventually served their food and drink.

If I ever found myself in a situation where I needed a lawyer, or needed to go to court, I’d do my best to avoid going there- Michela Spiteri

So I think waitress probably fits the description far better. But seeing it was a rather chic restaurant, with table-cloths and silver service to match the silvery sort of people that patronised it, I’ll forgive the terminological inexactitude.

The job lasted somewhere be-tween three to six months and I have never returned to the restaurant for a meal since. Being privy to the ins and outs of its kitchen ruined my appetite there forever.

Please don’t misunderstand me. The food was, and I am told, still is, exquisite. It’s the sort of restaurant that wins Silver and Gold Plate Awards. I guess you could say that I got a little bit too close for comfort. Yes, when it comes to restaurants and their kitchens, ignorance is definitely bliss.

I suppose I’m a little bit like that about the work I do now. I’m no longer in the business of hosting or waitressing although truth be told lawyering is a lot like waitressing in many respects. You spend a lot of the time waiting around, waiting for and on people and there’s usually lots that gets dished and thrown around in the process.

My point: 18 years later, once again I find myself strangely sceptical and wary of my work surroundings. Being privy to the inner mechanics of how the court system functions or doesn’t function a lot of the time, I know that if I ever found myself in a situation where I needed a lawyer, or needed to go to court, I’d do my best to avoid going there.

And I find this especially true of matrimonial cases – separations, maintenance cases and the like. You see, there are many instances where even I can appreciate and understand the utility of taking a case to court and why someone would want to waste that sort of time, energy and money to prove a point and hopefully get something back.

But when it comes to two people who may have spent the last 10, 20, 30 or more years sharing so much more than just a roof, going to court does nothing more than breed and worsen ill-feeling between couples and doesn’t really pay anyone in the long-run. Apart from the lawyers perhaps who are minted in the process.

My work brings me in daily contact with the worst that human beings, among them married couples, throw at one another. And on each and every occasion, I resolve that I will knuckle down and write about the futility and sad state of affairs that sees otherwise very honest, decent, good, sensible people draw themselves into lengthy, protracted and very costly disputes.

This all too often on account of wounded pride and honour which sets in motion a retributive and vindictive game of chess, culminating in untold collateral damage that even the couple themselves didn’t quite bargain on, with children invariably dragged into the mudslinging and often landing the rawest deal.

A friend of mine is going through the throes of one of these horrible gut-wrenching separations. They’ve been at it two years or longer and believe it or not, haven’t even started hearing evidence yet and are still waiting for the case to start.

Thus far, it’s been a series of convoluted applications and requests, reams of paperwork and of course the dreaded business of navigating through the procedural obstacle race, trying to beat the business of notification with all the added costs that are incurred in the process. Try notifying someone who lives and works abroad or who ups and leaves and virtually absconds. It’s a travesty of justice and beyond ridiculous.

Although I am loathe to generalise, when it comes to separation patters, because men are usually the primary breadwinners, they are wont to ration maintenance or in some way keep their wives financially wanting. Suddenly they forget just how expensive raising children and running a house can be. Women, on the other hand, as primary caregivers, will try to restrict access to the children. And because they spend more hours in the day with children, they are in a better position to manipulate them as they see fit.

And as time passes, the plot will undoubtedly thicken. Things get ugly and out of hand. Police reports abound – spouses suddenly wake up to the realisation that they have been living with neurotic, abusive, unfit partners who pose a threat to their children. And as psychologists et al are called into testify, the courtroom is transformed into a war zone, with below the belt allegations and extra marital affairs flung around in the hope of point-scoring and eliciting the sympathy of judges and arbitrators.

I often wonder whether perhaps it’s the system itself which encourages the war so to speak – whether the law itself, the lawyers, magistrates, judges all contribute in prolonging the agony by indulging the warfare and allowing for too much overspill.

Establishing fault as to why a marriage has broken down is as elusive as finding the secret to eternal happiness and I wonder whether courts or our laws should encourage the blame game – whether these unconsciously fuel fires.

Marriages corrode over time for a multitude of reasons and infidelities are usually symptoms and not causes of irretrievable marriage breakdown. Couples eventually realise far too late that if they can’t mend it, they should end it amicably and civilly, though not before they have forked out thousands in court expenses and hefty legal fees.

But yes, some eventually figure out that, as with all wars, there are no winners, only casualties – themselves and their children, who may never recover from the soul destroying, emotional upset that is inherent in the adversarial process.

michelaspiteri@gmail.com