Pinning Your Partners: 3 Ideas For Ensuring That Your Firm Treats You Fairly

Short of bringing in all your firm's business, what can you do to cause the firm to treat you right? A former Biglaw partner offers his advice.

We all dream of a world in which collegiality matters.

Partners at law firms are . . . well . . . partners. They look out for each other. They build each other’s practices. They work for the common good.

Perhaps that firm exists. I wouldn’t know.

From my perch here — as the guy who left a Biglaw partnership for an in-house job, and on whose shoulder other Biglaw partners now routinely cry — the view is pretty ugly. (Perhaps my perspective is distorted because of an obvious bias: Partners happy with their firms don’t come wailing to me.) What I hear these days is grim: Guys are being de-equitized or made of counsel; they think they’re being underpaid; they’re concerned that they’ll be thrown under the bus if they ever lose a step.

Several recent partners’ laments prompted me to think about something that I’d never considered when I worked at a firm. (Maybe that’s because I’m one of those guys who was perfectly happy laboring for the common good. Or maybe it’s because I’m a moron.)

In any event, here’s today’s question: I want to wrestle effectively with my own law firm. I don’t want to be nasty; I just want to be sure that I have implicit power when I negotiate with the firm. I want the firm — of its own accord, without me saying a word — to treat me right. How do I wrestle my own law firm to the ground? How do I pin my partners?

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The obvious answer is this: Make sure your book of business accounts for about ten percent of your firm’s revenue.

The boys won’t just handle you with kid gloves. They’ll give you the gloves. They’ll give you the glove factory. You’ll be a glove magnate! Who needs lawyering, anyway?

Short of bringing in all your firm’s business, though, what can you do to cause the firm to treat you right?

I propose three things.

First, given the choice, generate several matters that can be staffed with few lawyers, rather than one matter that must be staffed with many.

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Why?

If you’re at the helm of one huge case that’s staffed with 20 lawyers, you’re relatively unlikely to be able to move to a new firm. If you move alone, the client might stay with your old firm, because 19 of the lawyers working on your case still work for the old joint. And it’s a tricky business to simultaneously move 20 — or even three or four — lawyers laterally to a new firm. You’d have to respect your fiduciary duties to your current partnership, and you wouldn’t want your impending move to be spied by the powers that be, or they’d scuttle things.

If you can’t easily move to a new firm, then there’s little reason for your old firm to fear you. Or (unless you generate a huge amount of business) for your firm to treat you right.

So generate (implicit) fear: Create a practice that consists of ten matters, each headed up by you, supported by a different senior associate and junior associate on each matter. If you choose to change firms, all ten matters are likely to travel with you, because you’re the only partner working on each case. After you leave your old firm, the associates who worked on your cases may well follow you, because you, after all, have been feeding them.

It’s much easier to orchestrate a lateral move of one lawyer than many, so create a practice that’s as mobile as you are. That’ll put implicit fear into the boys who run the joint. It’ll make them treat you right.

Second, if you’re a litigator, do whatever it takes to get trial experience. As you age, firms can pooh-pooh many of your skills, even if you’re exceptionally talented. Whether or not it’s true, firms can say that they have “scores of lawyers who can write great briefs,” “teams of people who can analyze scientific data,” and “endless partners who take great depositions.” Those skills are subjective, so firms can insist that their lawyers possess them in abundance, and it’s awfully hard for potential clients to ferret out the truth.

But the number of cases that you’ve tried is an objective fact, and it’s one that potential litigation clients are likely to ask about. Litigation partners at many big firms have gone their entire careers without ever having stood before a jury and made an opening statement. The few partners who can say that they’ve tried several cases are thus a valuable commodity — one that firms treasure and cannot lightly afford to lose.

So do what it takes to get trial experience. Early in your career, try to work as an assistant U.S. attorney. If you can’t land a job in the Southern District, then settle for the Eastern or Northern. Of Guam. (Debt repayment can wait. Eating can wait. Getting trial experience cannot wait.) If you can’t land a job as a federal prosecutor, find some other way to get in front of juries. But do it. Once you have that experience, your firm will have to treat you right.

If you’re working at a big firm, don’t let trials pass you by. Get on the trial team. When the first of the mass tort cases heads to trial, you go with it. Partners will say: “We’re cranking out 12 briefs a day, and you’re the best brief-writer on our team. We can’t spare you from writing briefs for three weeks while you go to a trial site.”

Spit in their eye: “No! You can’t punish me because I’m the only guy in the joint who can write worth a damn! I try cases better than the other associates, too, and I’m not going to be punished because I’m competent! I’m doing a witness at this trial.”

Whatever it takes. But get trial experience. It’s the most important thing that big firms lack, and your firm is more likely to treat you right if you have it.

Finally, do something to maintain your individual profile, apart from the firm’s profile. Write, speak, teach, volunteer. Whatever. If your reputation is only that you’re a partner at Bigg & Mediocre, then you’re tied to the firm. If your reputation is that you’re John Proctor, the writer-speaker-teacher-volunteer, then you have an identity independent of the firm. The firm will realize that you’re an independent actor, and the firm will be more likely to treat you with respect.

Are my suggestions all genteel, the types of thoughts that loyal partners would have?

Of course not. So ignore me. You and your partners are like The Three Musketeers: “All for one, and one for all!” You should never have a heretical thought.

But remember: The people who are calling me — in their 50s and being thrown under the bus — seem to be regretting their lifelong loyalty.

I’m not advocating thinking tactically and developing skills and a practice that give you power when negotiating with your own firm. That would be entirely improper.

I’m just sayin’.


Mark Herrmann is the Chief Counsel – Litigation and Global Chief Compliance Officer at Aon, the world’s leading provider of risk management services, insurance and reinsurance brokerage, and human capital and management consulting. He is the author of The Curmudgeon’s Guide to Practicing Law and Inside Straight: Advice About Lawyering, In-House And Out, That Only The Internet Could Provide (affiliate links). You can reach him by email at inhouse@abovethelaw.com.