Why not?

Jennifer Berritt, Commercial Property Lawyer at Greenwoods

LeadHer Spotlight | September 2026

Twelve years on the wards. Head of nursing for a London borough. A career most people would be proud of. And then Jennifer Berritt went back to the dream she'd parked at eighteen, and became a lawyer.

It took years of evening study, and more self-belief than she knew she had. She'd do it all again.

Jennifer is a commercial property lawyer at Greenwoods, after training at Capsticks and working at firms including Charles Russell Speechlys, TLT and DWF. This is the story of how she switched careers - and what she's learned about backing yourself, building relationships and thriving as a woman in law.

It started in Barcelona

Law was always the plan. Then, in a year out after her A levels, Jennifer took a job at a mental health rehabilitation hospital and fell for it. She trained as a psychiatric nurse instead, moved to London and climbed fast.

But psychiatric nursing takes its toll. "There's a lot of violence and drugs and really sad things that you see," she says. Within a couple of years, she knew it had a shelf life.

The turning point came in Barcelona. A close friend asked about work. Jennifer said she liked it, but couldn't see herself doing it forever.

"She literally said, but what's stopping you from studying law? And nobody had ever said that to me before."

She came home, found the Open University, and applied that summer. No grand plan. Just a question nobody had asked her, from someone already living differently - that same friend had moved to Australia, come back, then moved to America.

"It's powerful having somebody around you that's doing different things. It's your driver to think, well, why not me?"

The only person who can do it is you

At school in the 1990s, Jennifer's careers adviser pointed her towards "traditional female roles" - nurse, receptionist. It left a mark.

"That's a massive confidence dent when you hear that."

So when she finally went for law, the belief had to come from her. Career change is frightening, she says. You may take a financial hit. You're starting again. You don't know if you'll be good enough. Your family will support you, but they can't do it for you.

"The worst that can happen is that you'll be in the position that you are now, but you will have tried."

It's not rocket science. It's the same logic she uses at work: most decisions can be undone. And you don't need every detail mapped out. She knew she wanted to be a lawyer long before she knew what kind. What matters is the direction and committing to it.

"Don't do it half-hearted, but really go for it."

A newborn at home, classmates out clubbing

Going for it meant years of juggling. Law study ran alongside a demanding nursing career and she kept getting promoted. By the time she graduated, she was head of nursing for a borough. Annual leave went on revision. Family holidays fitted around the exam calendar. Evening classes ended with younger classmates heading for drinks while she headed home, due back on the wards in the morning.

Her way into law came through that very job. Working alongside Capsticks at employment tribunals and coroner court hearings, she started the conversation with them that  she'd finished her degree. A two-week vacation scheme followed, then a training contract.

"It all sounds really, really easy." It wasn't.

Her fellow trainees were mostly fresh graduates. Jennifer had twelve years of nursing behind her, a husband and a young family.

"I had a newborn baby and they were going out clubbing."

What helped was accepting that everyone was simply at a different stage of life and that once the real work began, it stopped mattering. The six of them looked out for each other.

"It doesn't matter if you're 100 or if you're 10. When you start to actually do what you're doing, that falls away."

The feeling of not fitting the mould, she thinks, is often one we build ourselves. And it's never too late to change.

Your old career is your edge

Career changers tend to fixate on what they lack. Jennifer flips the question.

"What can I offer that they can't?"

For her, the answer was communication. Nursing meant talking to people from every part of life - in emergencies, in friendly chats, in hostile situations. Next to graduates straight out of university, she felt confident she had something different to offer.

It gave her perspective, too. Law is high-pressure, with money and relationships on the line. But Jennifer has worked somewhere the stakes were genuinely life and death.

"One thing at the back of my mind I always say is that it really isn't a matter of life and death."

Everyone, she insists, has transferable skills, they just need to look. A stay-at-home parent runs a household on organisation and firm boundaries. A shop worker learns to read who wants help and who wants to be left alone. Start with what you're good at, then hold it up against the job description of the role you want.

"It doesn't matter what role you have, there will be a skill set there that's transferable."

Nobody wants to talk about the law

Networking is hard, and Jennifer won't pretend otherwise. Walking into a room where everyone seems to know each other takes nerve. Her trick is to leave the law at the door.

"People want to see the personal side of you. You'll do business with somebody that you like."

She favours small, focused rooms over big events, and turns promising conversations into a daytime coffee. She understands that many people can feel daunted by speaking to a lawyer, whether that's because of the process itself or concerns about costs. That's why she makes time to get to know new and smaller clients, often without charging for those initial conversations, and is always happy to pick up the phone when they need her. Half joking, she'd like to get #LawyersArePeople trending.

And when she meets someone she won't work with, but who'd be perfect for someone she knows, she makes the introduction.

"Why wouldn't you?"

It's generosity, but it's also good business. People remember who gave them time when they didn't have to.

It's okay not to know

Jennifer now helps train the next generation, and she remembers exactly how the jump feels. One day you're a trainee. The next, your email signature says solicitor and everyone assumes you know everything.

"It's terrifying."

She built a training package so every newcomer gets the same time, exposure and support. The aim is to help them glide like a swan: calm on the surface, whatever's happening underneath. At its heart is permission to say "I don't know."

"Nobody can ever criticise you because you don't know if you've never been taught it."

Learning runs both ways. She picks things up from juniors "all the time," and keeps a private list of what she likes and dislikes in other people's work - a well-worded email, a tone that grates.

She also believes in saying it out loud when someone has done well. After one tricky deal, she emailed the supervisor of the two juniors on the other side to praise them. Both thanked her. Then their supervisor asked if she'd like to interview for a role.

"It can open up doorways that sometimes you might not ever expect."

Stop pretending to be someone else

Law, and commercial property especially, is still "very, very male dominated." Jennifer doesn't sugar-coat it. Parents are expected not to be parents at work, and for a long time a woman who wanted to succeed had to act like a man: endless hours, no visible life at home, no room for softness.

Her answer is to stop pretending.

"We don't need to change ourselves."

She's clear with everyone that she's there to do an excellent job - and that she has two children and intends to be a present parent. School runs and holiday flexibility aren't up for debate. Would she have said that as a junior? "Probably not." Knowing what she wants, and saying it, came with experience.

So did choosing the right firm. Certain firms would ask for time she won't give, so she doesn't work at one and she doesn't see that as a compromise.

"No one is better than the other."

On male allies, she's candid: "There are some that are brilliant and there are many that are not." She's wary of token appointments that flatter the figures without giving women any real weight. When women get to the table, they need to be heard.

Why not?

Jennifer recently heard a speaker at a women's event describe applying, as a student, for work experience at the space centre in Houston - certain she'd never get in. She did. Whenever people asked why she'd applied, her answer was the same: why not?

"Sometimes if we ask ourselves, why not? that can be a really good way for us to turn it on its head. Believe in yourself. Back yourself, because nobody can back yourself better than you." - Jennifer Berritt