Old People

Old Lady Lawyer: It’s a Bucket Test, Not A Bucket List

Learning that we are fungible is a very hard lesson for many to learn, especially lawyers with our years of training and experience.

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old lady lawyer elderly woman grandmother grandma laptop computerSo many people talk about their bucket lists, all the things, places, and the like they want to do and do before taking that final and irrevocable dirt nap. I don’t have a bucket list, and I don’t intend to have one. It must be exhausting to have such a list, and to make sure that all these activities are checked off. I get tired just thinking about it. (We’ve already stipulated numerous times before that I’m a dinosaur, so stop with snarky age-related comments. I get them. Thank you for sharing.)

One of my old lady lawyer friends also does not believe in bucket lists. Yay for her and for anyone else who thinks that part of the fun of life is the unexpected, the turning a corner and finding something you never thought you’d see or do. As lawyers, especially as litigators/trial lawyers, our lives are so regimented that to have the freedom to do what you want, when you want it, without checking court rules or the particular trial judge’s exhaustive list of “dos and don’ts.” So, while checklists are necessary professionally, I dislike them personally and I don’t think I’m an outlier about that. Your thoughts?

As lawyers, we also think of ourselves as unique, that no other lawyer could do what we do in the same way and be as effective. We think that our clients love us (no, that’s not the case, we may just be more cost-effective, e.g. a cheaper hourly rate than the firm down the street.) We never think that we’re replaceable, until we are. Everyone reading this, who has been laid off, downsized, rightsized, and the like, please wave your hand. See my hand among them? I see a virtual redwood forest (remember that I am in California) of hands waving in the air that reminds me of cornfields as far as the eye can see in my native Illinois.

For those of us who think we are irreplaceable in whatever context, here’s a dose of cold water, literally, for all of us who think that way. It’s the bucket test, not the bucket list.

What is the bucket test? Lloyd Carney, the CEO of Brocade, learned it from his grandfather. The test is simple: put your hand in a bucket of water. Now remove it. Look at the hole you’ve left. What hole, you ask? That’s precisely Mr. Carney’s point.

Just as water abhors a vacuum, and so fills in the hole left when you remove your hand, the same holds true when you leave a job, whether it’s a voluntary resignation, a forced resignation or “retirement,” a termination, or any permutation of these. The lesson is that everyone, and that means you, me, we all are replaceable. I love that test. The visual is one that everyone knows. Mr. Carney doesn’t say if the water has to be hot or cold. Water at whatever temperature will work.

Sometimes pushing the envelope for that raise, the bigger office, whatever you fancy may result in your hand being in that bucket of water. You have only to read ATL over the past several months about associate increases to know that they come with a price, e.g. higher billable hour requirements. How many associates will face the bucket test?

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Learning that we are fungible is a very hard lesson for many to learn, especially lawyers with our years of training and experience. To think that one is replaceable is a very humbling experience and since we lawyers are not known for our humility, it’s even harder. How many times have you ever seen a lawyer order “humble pie” for dessert? Yes, I thought so. No one ever voluntarily orders that one, let alone suggests an order “for the table to share.”

However, even if every lawyer is replaceable, every once in a while, a client thinks that a lawyer is irreplaceable, and that can make the daily, weekly, monthly, even yearly slog worth it.

A friend of mine has a son battling drug addiction and he has been in and out of rehab on more occasions that she has fingers and toes. He is now in “drug court,” the collaborative court that Los Angeles County has (and I am sure this is elsewhere in the country) where everyone, from the prosecutor to the defense attorney to the court to the probation officer work together in an effort to turn her son’s life around. He is only in his 20s, and so the chance to do that is more than still viable, it is essential.

So, my friend wrote a thank you note (an actual note, not an email or a text, a note complete with envelope and stamp, in other words snail mail) to her son’s lawyer, expressing gratitude for all the work done on her son’s behalf. Imagine that. What would it be like to receive such a note? How many of us have received thanks from our clients in that form? How meaningful are such thanks to us? A whole lot more than we are willing to express or can express because it doesn’t usually happen very often.

Even if this particular lawyer is, just like the rest of us, replaceable, my friend thinks that this lawyer is irreplaceable, by making a difference in her son’s life, helping him to hopefully turn his life around. And, at the end of the day, isn’t that what being a lawyer is really all about? Yes, we are all replaceable, but it’s the one on one interaction between lawyer and client that gives us a feeling, however fleeting, that we are irreplaceable, and to that one particular client at that one particular time, we are.

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Jill Switzer is closing in on 40 (not a typo) years as a active member of the State Bar of California. Yes, folks, California, that state west of the Sierra Nevada, which everyone likes to diss. She’s had a diverse legal career, including stints as a deputy district attorney, a solo practice, and several senior in-house gigs. She now mediates full-time, which gives her the opportunity to see old lawyers, young lawyers, and those in-between interact — it’s not always pretty. You can reach her by email at oldladylawyer@gmail.com.

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