There are certain things in life you want, even if others persistently tell you it’s not that great or not a big deal. Like marriage. Or the movie Wall Street 2: everyone told me to wait for on demand or a future flight, but nope, I had to see it. Can’t tell me nothin’. Or things that were simply unattainable, like invites to certain parties back in high school: “Oh, that party on Saturday night you’re not invited to? Yeah, I’d really rather be doing something else, but I promised her I’d go. But trust me, you’re not missing anything.” Hmmm….
Or driving. When I was 15, I couldn’t wait until I was 16 and could drive. But then after years of having to do regular car maintenance, taking cars into repair shops where I had to trust obfuscating mechanics, having to endure long daily commutes that was just wasted time, and having to find parking where there was none, I’m now happy to get on a train every day — even an underground train — and read until I reach my destination.
Or Super Lawyers. I had never heard of Super Lawyers in law school or during the year I spent as a contract attorney. After I finally entered Biglaw, I was in a partner’s office and happened to see a Super Lawyers plaque on his wall. I was like, cool, you’re a Super Lawyer!
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He was like, eh, no big deal, which immediately reminded me of not getting invited to high school parties. No big deal my butt — I knew that I wanted to be a Super Lawyer too. After all, I remember a little bit of the 70s, which must be when the name was hatched. I remember seeing Superman in the theater, wearing clothes with large collars, and watching Charlie’s Angels on Wednesday nights. Apparently, while I was doodling on my Etch-A-Sketch and watching Archie Manning, a bunch of lawyers were sitting around a coffee table in someone’s living room passing a joint and deciding they were going to start calling themselves “super lawyers”. (I tried to link to the pot scene in The Paper Chase, but couldn’t find it on YouTube and don’t have time to see the whole movie before this column posts. Wasn’t there a pot scene in The Paper Chase? Oh well, in its place, here’s the pot scene in Animal House.)
I never became a Super Lawyer in Biglaw, since after my first firm the other firms I joined didn’t really participate in it. But the waiting is over. This is the year. Just like [REDACTED] was the year I finally got a driver’s license, 2016 is the year I became a Super Lawyer. See, here I am: http://profiles.superlawyers.com/new-york-metro/new-york/lawyer/gary-j-ross. By the way, you know who isn’t a Super Lawyer? Alan Dershowitz. Go ahead, look him up: http://attorneys.superlawyers.com/ (I assume he lives in Boston or New York). He’s not there! I bet if he’s reading this he’s feeling a little tinge of jealously. You just didn’t make the cut, Alan. Better luck next year.
I used my newfound Super Lawyer status the same way I tried to use my ability to drive when I turned 16: to get dates. This time I hoped the results would be different.
People sometimes say that I don’t do enough research for these columns, but trust me, I spent a lot of time researching this one. Coffee shops, grocery stores, magazine racks in bookstores, churches, gyms, homeless shelters — I left no ground uncovered. Here is the typical conversation:
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Hey.
Hey back.
What are you reading/drinking/watching?
I’m going to call security.
Not so fast! You don’t know what I am.
What are you? (raising an eyebrow so slightly)
I’m a Super Lawyer!
Super lover? (either hopeful or, more often, disbelieving)
No, silly, something better! I’m a Super Lawyer!! Only 5% of us can be considered a Super Lawyer. I was nominated by my peers, and then validated with third-party research across 12 key categories and then reviewed by a highly credentialed panel of attorneys. (I go on to wax poetic on the pride I take in being in the top 5%.)
But then something strange would happen. Amazingly, every time I would mention something else about being a Super Lawyer, or even being a lawyer in general, the person would appear to lose interest. Totally the opposite of what you would expect, right? But it always happened. I’m (still) as mystified as anyone.
You might be wondering, if being a Super Lawyer can’t help you get dates, is it worth it?
I don’t know the Biglaw/SmallLaw breakdown of Super Lawyers, but I have to think there are far more SmallLaw Super Lawyers than Biglaw Super Lawyers. Most SmallLaw attorneys have to do the client hunting themselves, and a lot of us are reliant on getting people from the internet. You never know who is out there googling you — even clients who are referrals are going to google you before reaching out — and I very seriously doubt there has ever been a client that didn’t hire a certain attorney because he or she was a Super Lawyer. (Unless the lawyer had previously tried to pick her up by using that fact.) The more hits the better, especially if you do something like write a weekly column that’s not always serious and would like for something other than your columns to show up on google results.
On the down side, they send you a lot of emails, and they try to sell you a lot of stuff. Their efforts were so annoying intense that I decided not to get a plaque after all, and I seriously wonder who is out there buying items like Super Lawyers golf gloves. (Is that not bizarre?) Also, some of the attorneys they tap as Super Lawyers are very junior, like only three years out. My suggestion would be to not let anyone be a Super Lawyer who hasn’t been practicing at least five years, which is down from my initial inclination of ten years.
But it does mean at least one lawyer out there likes you — and I know some people who cannot say that — and where I live they treated us to an enjoyable dinner, plus a lot of attorneys I respect are Super Lawyers (like fellow ATL columnist Matt Kaiser). In spite of what any naysayers may say, I’m going to hold my head high from now on. Why? Because now I’m a Super Lawyer. If only the kids from high school could see me now.