Old People

No Bones About It

Wish bone, funny bone, backbone, essential skeletal parts for lawyers who want to have any career longevity.

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boneLate Late Night Show host James Corden (the Carpool Karaoke man), who hosted the Grammy Awards (I live in La-La Land both literally and figuratively, and award shows are huge out here) has said that all artists, regardless of what kind they are, need to “have to have a wish bone and a funny bone and a backbone. Those are the three things you need: a wish bone to have dreamt to get it, a funny bone to not take yourself too seriously, and a backbone to ride through everything that’s going to get thrown your way.”

Although Corden said it in the context of career longevity in the arts, it’s true for all of us, in whatever we do, in whatever our career, our job, our profession. I think it’s especially true for lawyers.

A wish bone. People who want to be lawyers want it really badly. Otherwise, why would anyone of sane mind put themselves through the LSAT, law school, and the bar exam, oftentimes saddled with massive amounts of student debt, only to wind up on the passing side of the bar exam with no job and not even opportunities that present themselves? That wish bone must be an integral part of one’s anatomy to do it, even when prospects for employment can look dim for anyone who doesn’t have the requisite pedigree for Biglaw or boutique firms composed of former Biglaw lawyers who have that same pedigree mindset. You have to wish it, want it, and then do it. Becoming a lawyer isn’t easy. So stipulated.

A funny bone. I’ve written before about lawyers’ senses of humor and often lack thereof. One thing that we lawyers are not very good at is being able to laugh at ourselves and our often over-inflated sense of self-importance when there is no justification for having that attitude. We seem to lack a sense of silliness about ourselves (not about the work) and it’s hard for us to see the absurd, except when we’re responding to some crackpot litigation, and sometimes not even then.

We’re people, people, and our officious pomposity (probably redundant but you get the point) does us no good either within the profession or outside. Exhibit A: lawyers fighting over an airplane armrest, and no, I am not making this up.

How many times have we hung up the phone (note, I say hung up, rather than hanging up on, let’s be civil here) thinking that opposing counsel is absolutely full of himself, unwilling or unable to listen to what we have to say, and we’re thinking, like our President is thinking, “see you in court.”

Our inability to see our foibles and to not take ourselves so seriously is a character defect. Our profession provides ample material for comedy (remember the TV show Night Court?), even if we don’t see it, let alone acknowledge that it exists.

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A backbone. Essential. Rejection is part of a lawyer’s career, even if we don’t call it that. We frame it as “losing.” We lose the motion, we lose the trial, we lose the appeal. The court denies our motion, telling us we’re idiots, either implicitly or otherwise, because our motion is meritless.

Other examples: the prospective client goes elsewhere after a no-charge consultation. Our receivables mount up while our collected receipts take a dive. We’re target practice for many.  The list goes on and on.

I’ve never viewed our profession as a series of auditions, but it think that exactly what we do, wherever we are, whether it’s in court, networking events, writing, speaking, whatever. We’re auditioning for clients, for the courts, opposing counsel, and for each other, especially if we want to get a referral or make a lateral move or even any kind of move to a different job or kind of practice.

A lawyer friend of mine, an associate in a mid-sized law firm, was laid off. It’s not her work product, but that she doesn’t have sufficient billables for the firm to keep her. (Is this a variation on the dating theme of “it’s not you, it’s me?”) Ms. A. is having an identity crisis; she doesn’t think she’s a lawyer unless she has W-2 income. Wrong. She will always be a lawyer; that’s her identity. And it takes backbone to say it, even if she doesn’t know what she’s going to do next and how to go about that.

Backbone can take many forms. Another lawyer friend of mine recently attended a conference of lawyers in similar practice areas came away thinking that just about everyone she chatted with was unhappy. Those unhappy lawyers were the ones working at firms, slaving to get the requisite billable hours in exchange for less money than they were making on their own, but they now had health care benefits. It takes backbone to stay in a situation that you don’t like, to make sacrifices you don’t want, just to maintain health insurance. (Are you listening in Washington? Probably not.)

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Another example of backbone: a third woman lawyer friend of mine (note: I do have male lawyer friends; they’re just not forthcoming about issues they’re facing) transferred out to her firm’s California office, only to have the firm close its doors within a year of her arrival. She interviewed with some firms, who made “generous” offers to her (cue the sarcasm), and she decided to pair up with another solo to create a woman and minority owned law firm. It won’t be easy; it takes backbone, especially in this eat what you kill economy, to journey that way.

Wish bone, funny bone, backbone, essential skeletal parts for lawyers who want to have any career longevity. Corden was right. Make no bones about it.

old lady lawyer elderly woman grandmother grandma laptop computerJill Switzer has been an active member of the State Bar of California for 40 years. She remembers practicing law in a kinder, gentler time. 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 dinosaurs, millennials, and those in-between interact — it’s not always civil. You can reach her by email at oldladylawyer@gmail.com.

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