When I was a 21-year-old law student in Canberra, desperate for casual work, I found an ad on a corkboard outside the library. The title: “Gopher.” As in, go for it. Fetch things. My entire life as an only daughter of immigrants had prepared me for this, I thought. It also seemed like a great way to ride my bike during business hours. With my dwindling bank balance, I had little choice.
On my first day, wearing black pants and a crisp ironed shirt, I felt overdressed. The receptionist wore shorts and a jumper proclaiming “I KISSED A VAMPIRE AND I LIKED IT.” She pointed to a stack of papers marked “gopher’s in-tray.” The job was simple: deliver letters, notices of assessment, and other legal documents by bicycle. The locations were varied and inconvenient.
Daily deliveries and unexpected duties
Some days I balanced packages on my handlebars on the way to the courts. Other days I wove through foot traffic to reach the bank before its unreasonably early closing time. The kind man at the revenue office came to know me by name—likely because I was the only out-of-breath twentysomething in a magpie-proof helmet in the waiting area.
About a week in, I noticed a new inscription on the in-tray sheet: a file addressed to “G.O.D.” When I asked the receptionist, she explained it stood for “Gopher On Duty.” On my bike, carrying stacks of papers, I felt briefly like the G.O.D. of my email signature. If I didn’t deliver those letters, serious legal cases could not continue. Vulnerable clients relied on me.
Being the G.O.D. of the office
In truth, errand runners aren’t taken seriously. Lawyers forget your name after the delivery. Worse, they call you by your extended title: “Tuesday Gopher.” My duties never expanded beyond occasional reception coverage, though once a paralegal asked me to scratch her back by the fax machine.
A university career adviser told me law students in their latter years usually seek paralegal positions. But my time as a gopher was my only job in a law firm. After graduating, I did not practise law. Instead, I moved into a more stable and financially lucrative industry: media.
Lessons learned beyond the law
That year as G.O.D. taught me more than five years of studying torts and litigation. It taught me to appreciate every errand runner, delivery driver, and courier. Delivery isn’t easy, whether for a law firm, a postie, or someone delivering ice-cream at 2am. I can look back and smile, but for many with precarious work or visa conditions, it’s not comedic—it’s a daily reality with disguised challenges.
In some places, human couriers are being replaced by robots. But in 2026, physical objects, paper, and the people who deliver them still matter. One person’s gopher is the world’s G.O.D.—someone we all rely on.
