Frequent Citations

C'est Tout

Today I walked out of my office for the last time.

I'm not going to lie, I shed a few tears as I walked home.

Here's what happened:

Six years ago, a freshly-minted law grad, I joined Biglaw. And I hit the ground running: I had fantastic cases, lucky draws with the partners I worked with, lots of responsibility. I loved my work, I enjoyed my colleagues, I didn't mind pulling 250 hours or so a month.  We all know hard work is what I do.

A couple years ago, a few things shifted. I was put on a case that took enormous time but didn't offer new opportunities. Then my favorite partner went out for over a year, and for various reasons (including a general fall-off in my area of the firm) I got less and less work. Then I got no new work at all.

Well. That's never going to work well for anyone. It drove me crazy, and even if the firm swore up and down that it had no intention of laying off more associates ever, how long would they really keep someone who wasn't billing?

I did all the things they say to do. I wrote articles, I co-wrote book chapters. I walked the halls, ambushing partners and asking for work.  I filled out the reports showing my abysmal hours and how much availability I had. Whenever anything came down the pike, however tiny, I said yes.

And nothing.

Somehow I had gone from superstar to superslow.  More of a dead halt, really.

It took months for me to accept that I really needed to look for a new job, more months for me to get definitely serious about it, not long at all to get an offer once I did get serious.

It seems I'm probably the only woman my age ever hired as an associate in Biglaw.  By quitting, I wonder whether I've let down all the other women my age-ish who want to work in Biglaw. Will the firms point to me and say look, we tried it, it didn't work out, we're not hiring any woman over 30? Eh, doubtful I ever drew enough attention for that. 

But it's a bitter moment, somehow. To realize that I wasn't able to beat the 99.5 to 1 odds against becoming a partner, to realize I was effectively frozen out of my job, it feels like defeat. Yes, it's Biglaw's loss--they said goodbye to an associate who would bill a thousand hours over the yearly average without blinking. More importantly, they lost someone who, with all due modesty, is a smart and efficient associate with a knack for developing good relationships with clients. I also recognize that to a large extent the firm is trapped in its own weird universe and has no mechanisms for breaking through its rigid system to keep someone like me, even if there were some individuals who would have wanted to do so. Still, to Biglaw I'm fungible. 

I think it would be foolish on my part to gloss over the sense of loss I feel. I went in recognizing the odds and hoping to beat them anyway. I lost. I left. Even when you're braced for impact, it hurts.

On Monday I start anew. A smaller firm, a specialized practice, and a daily train ride are in store for me.  I'm intrigued by the work. I liked the people with whom I interviewed. I'm resigned to no longer being able to walk to work. I'm taking a salary cut, but it's not as drastic as it might have been. We'll cope. 

Maybe I'll thrive. 

Certainly, I'm glad that I was able to leave on my own terms, and looking forward to something new.

On The Stand

Over the weekend I went to be a witness for the trial skills program our firm runs every year.  How I got roped into this I don't know -- insanity, weakness, idiocy are all possible explanations.  I agreed to do it, though, and in due time I showed up at the hotel with my story book in tow and a store of resigned patience. 

My character was a rock star.  How much more appropriate could that be? 

Anyway, it was actually pretty interesting to see everything from the witness's perspective.  First of all, it really helps if the lawyer listens to what the witness says.  Also, preparation is good but not if you're totally scattered in how you prepare your witness.  But the witness's view of the trial is really narrow, even for the key witness.  So it helps to have some sense of how it's all planned out, but it's also good to know what the key points are to work in (or avoid). 

And use the visuals, man.  Always.

Reprieve!

I headed to work this morning thinking that I had unknown thousands of documents to QC (that is, check the quality of the reviewers' work and correct as necessary) and a draft to revise -- again.  I had started plugging away when Senior Glamour Associate (who is, lest you kid yourselves, very much partner track) called me back about an issue I had raised yesterday.

Long story short:  very few docs to review (for now), and a fun writing assignment that I was able to complete in a few hours.  And as for the draft revision (which had nothing to do with Senior Glamour Associate), someone else very kindly took the latest round of revisions off my hands.

All of which meant that as my ears became progressively more painful and loud (the ringing, you know) I realized that I could just . . . leave.  So I did.  And now I'm working on a draft after all, but at home in front of pre-season football and chatting with GirlChild on the phone.  

I'm working too much, trying to fix that, but still loving what I do.

Me: Not So Diplomatic

Sometimes my people skills are less than stellar.  Sometimes they are downright stinky, especially when I'm functioning on four hours of sleep and I've been waiting for someone for 3 hours.  It might be that I get a little terse, and a little impatient.

Yeah, I need to work on that.

Also, and with all due modesty, I need to figure out how to diplomatically tell someone that when I give them a hint as to how to do something, they should bloody well listen up because I'm giving them a present, all gift-wrapped and everything.  Just ask my kids (who also ignore me on a regular basis, but who have perfected -- looking at you, Boy -- the smile-and-nod technique).

In other news, I got a ticket to VIP seating for the Symphony in the Park tonight.  I got there just as they were starting, and stayed for almost the whole thing.  The sound was lovely -- reminiscent, I thought, of the Chicago Symphony under Solti, warm and responsive and vibrant.  And I didn't even work the whole time.  After all, it got dark.

I'm very excited about two things:  fact discovery ends Friday (meaning that the work week might go closer to 60 hours than 80) and I'm going to visit friends in DC!  We may or may not do some fun shopping, but we certainly have no intention of doing anything "worthwhile" or "improving," and I will leave it to you, dear reader, to decide if that has anything to do with the fact that TFL will be staying behind due to a deadline.  We will miss him, of course, as we wander through boutiques and indulge in naps. 

Oh, and I haven't moved yet but I know it's coming.  I try to roll with the punches, but if they don't give me shelves and filing space things will Not Go Well.  I can cope with losing my Park view, and my fab office mate, and my perfect (no, truly truly ideal) location, but I can NOT cope with insufficient drawer space to hold my shoes.

And my files, I guess. Whatever.  Anyway, I foresee danger of lapsing into undiplomatic behavior again if I don't get proper furniture in the new office.  No one wants that to happen, especially those of you whose student loans I'm paying.

They're Making Me Move

Here it is, my first official complaint about work (remarks about hours don't count):  they're making me move offices!  Something about wanting people in the same practice group together, blah blah blah.

I'll lose my view of the park, my fab office mate, AND my shelves and my file cabinets!  You just don't know how bad this is.  In fact, it's SO bad that I'm actually going to make an official complaint.  If they can't at least get me real shelves and file cabinets, then . . . well, then I might cry. 

I really am very very bummed. 

In other news -- days are very long.  I need a new motorcycle jacket.  I got my hair trimmed.  I miss my kids.  TFL is as handsome as ever.  Dogness is getting white hair in her eyebrows.  The fireworks were right outside our window and phenomenal.

Oh September, How You Taunt Me

I have an appointment for my character and fitness interview, and for my orientation to the Bar, and for my swearing-in ceremony.

All in September.

My office mate points out to me that I will probably be the last person in our class to be admitted.  My response is inevitably obscene.

TFL merely remarked that September is only some weeks away. 

Bah.

Truth be told, the important lesson in all this is:  take the time to do what you need to do and to heck with everyone else, including the partner down the hall, because the world can wait for half an hour while you finish writing out your bar application.  Really.  Or, you know, get your passport renewed.

Summers Are A Coming In

The summer associates have arrived.  Poor things.  A short summer, constant uncertainty, hard caps on the lunch budget...

I don't think it's such a bad world out there for baby lawyers.  It's maybe a slightly more reality-based world.  But I wish all the summer associates lots of luck, and even more luck to those who didn't manage to snag a job for the summer.  Hang in there, people.

Mild Panic Looks Like A Clean Desk

I've been a busy girl.  I average plenty of billable hours, and count myself fortunate for every one.  But this morning, due to a dawdling opponent, one Partner being on vacation, and another Partner being a little to busy to get back to me about a memo, I found myself with nothing to do but either clean my desk or work on my bar application.

It goes without saying that my desk is now spic and span, not a stray paper in sight.  Redwelds are labeled, papers are sorted, surfaces are cleared.  I like a clean and tidy space, but this I find a little frightening.

I managed to scrounge hours here and there, worked on a pro bono matter, and ended up near a respectable eight hours.  But ye gods.  Even knowing that it was a fluke and I have plenty of work ahead of me, today made me nervous.

And before my mother has a heart attack, I finished filling out my bar application tonight.  Tomorrow I'll call people for affidavits (YOU may be one of the lucky ones to get a call! You could already be a winner!) and see if I can get my driving records.

I also realized how old I will be when I finish paying my student loans if I'm not able to pay them off sooner.  I'm still whimpering. 

The First Step

I admit it.  I have a problem, and I can't control myself.

I'm addicted to colored tabs.

I've been assembling another binder, and before I knew it I had the yellow tabs for dates and the orange tabs for privilege and red tabs for hot and . . . What can I say?  I have a colorful binder.  But at least I can find key dates in an instant, and see at a glance if we've gotten any documents from certain sources for that date.  There's a method to my madness.

In other news:  I advise against having two major projects with simultaneous production dates.  This advice may or may not be related to the lack of content around here lately.

And in other other news:  we've given up on selling the flat.  We've taken it off the market and GirlChild will be moving back there with a friend whose lease is up and, we hope, one of her cousins in the fall.  It could be much worse; at least we can take the edge off the monthly bite and GirlChild will take good care of the place.  But I confess that I refuse to figure out if we're under water on it.  We owe what we owe, and some day the market will start moving again.  (I think it's worth more than we owe, still, but the problem is no one is buying at any price.)

It's A Sign

I'm really and for truly busy--I turned down work tonight.  I just flat said no, although only after I found someone else to take over for me.

Could have been a fun job, too.  But sometimes even I will draw the line.  And I would have been doing the client no favors by trying to do the task when someone else is available and perfectly capable.

The manic and obsessive control freak in me is quietly screaming away, but I'm ruthlessly ignoring the sound.

It helps a little that I am Annoyed.  I've been dealing with someone who does not know me very well at all, and so catches none of the Warning Signs.  As many of you know, those Warning Signs aren't usually all that subtle, so there you go.

In other news:  everything else at work is peachy.  I'm running like crazy, projects are blowing up left and right, and a nicely messy one has been erupting into fires all week.  Yay!