It is hard to believe it has been five years since the world came to a halt.
Five years since we first heard terms like “social distancing” and “essential businesses.”
Five years since Zoom became an everyday tool, grocery store shelves were wiped clean and a simple cough could clear an entire room.
Thinking back, some of the things we just accepted as normal seem almost absurd now. Multi-hour lines at the abandoned Regency Square Mall just to get a COVID test — after booking an appointment days in advance — hoping they wouldn’t swab half your brain in the process.
Wiping down every grocery item before bringing it inside.
And of course, the grocery store itself, which felt more like a battlefield than a routine errand.
Gloves on, masks up, people dodging each other in the aisles, and the rush of excitement when you found a pack of toilet paper or paper towels that had somehow been overlooked.
Everyone remembers exactly where they were when it became clear that life was about to change.
For me, it was March 12, 2020, at TPC Sawgrass with my wife and kids. The Players Championship was in full swing, and it was one of those perfect spring afternoons — warm sun, a light breeze, nothing to do but enjoy the day.
At one point, my son and I were racing down one of the grassy hills, just passing time between groups. At that moment, there was no sign that this was about to be the last normal day for a long time.
But as we walked around the course, the world outside was shifting by the hour. First, the announcement came that the tournament would continue, but without fans. Less than an hour later, it was canceled altogether.
Then the NBA suspended its season. The NHL followed. And then, the biggest blow — March Madness was gone. Florida State fans, who were convinced they had the basketball championship in the bag, got stabbed in the heart as they watched it all slip away — not with an upset loss, but with an announcement.
Looking back, it’s remarkable how much the legal profession has changed since then.
Remote work, once rare, has become standard practice. I’ve been working fully remote with no physical office since 2021, and I’m far from the only one.
Many firms have embraced the shift, and clients have become just as comfortable meeting over Zoom as they once were sitting across a conference room table.
In-person hearings and depositions, once the norm, are now the exception. What started as a short-term fix in 2020 has largely stuck around. Virtual hearings are routine, and live witness testimony over Zoom is just part of how trials work now.
While some questions remain — like how credibility translates through a screen — it’s clear that remote proceedings aren’t going anywhere.
And for a brief moment, Zoom happy hours were everywhere. It was a surprisingly easy way to reconnect with old friends from law school or college, people you hadn’t talked to in years.
While they’ve mostly faded away, they were a reminder of how technology could bring people together in ways we hadn’t fully embraced before.
Even small, everyday interactions in the legal world changed. Handshakes disappeared overnight, replaced with fist bumps, elbow taps and the occasional uncertain nod. People hesitated before passing documents back and forth. Some of that has returned to normal, but the way we work and communicate has evolved permanently.
The legal profession always has been slow to embrace change, but the past five years forced an evolution that might have taken decades otherwise.
What started as temporary adjustments — remote work, virtual hearings, flexible schedules — have become long-term improvements. The way we practice law has fundamentally shifted, and in many ways, it’s for the better.
If the past five years have proven anything, it’s that no matter how much the world changes, the legal system will keep moving forward. And now, five years later, it’s not about adjusting anymore — it’s just the way things are.
John Weedon is a litigator at Hinshaw & Culbertson LLP, an Illinois-registered limited liability partnership that has elected to be governed by the Illinois Uniform Partnership Act (1997).