Should Lawyers Try To Be Famous?

Andy Warhol said “in the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.” 

Is the future here now? As lawyers, is it better than we keep a low profile, or even no profile? Toiling in the background while clients are in the spotlight?

I think that this is a difference (one of many) between dinosaur and millennial lawyers. Perhaps it’s a function of how dinosaur children were raised. It was “seen and not heard,” “don’t speak unless spoken to,” and the like. Whether intentional or not, we are a generation raised very differently than millennials.

Exhibit A for that chasm between dinosaurs and millennials is reality television shows. Nobody knew from reality shows when we grew up. “Reality shows” then were hard news programs, with anchors such as Walter Cronkite (called the “most trusted man in America”), Chet Huntley and David Brinkley, and others like them. Reality shows were those news broadcasts, along with sports programming and game shows, which are different kettles of fish altogether. Reality shows today run from Judge Judy to Survivor to The Real Housewives of [insert city of your choice].

In a fascinating post, The Ringer interviewed a number of lawyers, both male and female, who have appeared on The Bachelor or its counterpart, The Bachelorette. I’ve never watched either show because I think they tend to degrade and humiliate all participants in the name of “good television.” However, some millennial colleagues have taken that leap into the reality television world on those shows. 

The last quote in The Ringer article caught my eye. The lawyer, who had been practicing for five (not a typo) years, did not make it to the end of the show, but was quoted as saying that, had she made it to the end, a two month long vacation would have been nice.

This is the kind of quote that makes dinosaur lawyers get the wrong impression about the work ethic of millennials. (And by the way, I was rightly taken to task by a new lawyer in his forties who doesn’t fit the age definition for millennials, but is a newbie lawyers, nonetheless. I stand corrected. Thank you to you know who you are.)

After five years of practice, a two month long vacation would have been nice. Really? Tell that to the lawyers practicing ten, twenty, thirty, even forty years. for whom the idea of a two month vacation is nigh high to impossible.

If you’re a solo, who is going to cover for you for two months? If you’re in a small firm and even if in Biglaw, same question. If in-house, no way that a legal department is going to go without you for two months’ vacation, the feeling being that if they can get along without you for two months, they can probably get along without you forever. (Let’s not discuss FMLA here.)

How are you going to make up for the lost billable hours? The possible loss of clients who think that a two month vacation is excessive and go elsewhere to get legal representation? Who’s going to call the clients to follow up on collecting those receivables? Who is going to make the court appearances? Do the work?

Dinosaur lawyers complain that millennials have a different work ethic, that they have a sense of entitlement. Maybe, maybe not, but this kind of quote doesn’t do much to advance the case that millennials are willing to dig in to do the work.

I’m reading currently Legal Asylum by Paul Goldstein.

The novel is a hilarious takedown of the machinations that a fictional law school goes through to increase its US News and World Report law school ranking. (My law school, from which I graduated 41 (not a typo) years ago is among the unranked, not to be confused with the unbanked). In the novel, one of the professors says “…the idea that [law] students should be happy is just about the dumbest thing I have ever heard. I can’t imagine what nincompoop came up with it.”

Practicing law is not a happy profession. We don’t see people at their best; we see them at their worst (except for perhaps adoptions and other positive situations, of which there aren’t many). We see people when they are hurt, angry, victimized, accused, or whatever other adjectives you’d care to use. No one ever calls a lawyer to tell him or her that the client (or prospective client) is having a good day. We solve problems; we don’t create happiness. If that’s what some lawyers think the practice is or should be, then they should hang out at the “happiest place on earth.”

Practicing law is tough, brutal, very often time-sensitive, often mind-numbing work. By its very nature, it’s adversarial, and not in a good way, especially if opposing counsel are uncivil reciprocally. (Has anyone ever thought that it should be “uncivil” litigation, rather than “civil? Just asking.)

Lawyers can be are in the spotlight, most often on behalf of their clients, whatever the kind of matter. Sometimes we try to try cases in the media. (Ever wonder what would have been the outcome of publicity-driven trials, such as the Simpson case, if social media had been around then? The media frenzy was bad enough; layer social media on top of it, and I shudder to think.)

Sometimes, lawyers take the spotlight for themselves, whether intentionally or not, and they become the focus, rather than the clients they represent, as the client gets shoved to the side or rear, thinking “What about me? I thought this was my case.” Now it’s the era of shameless self-promotion, and sometimes seeing the antics of some lawyers makes me want to hose them down. (It’s almost official: Southern California is pretty much out of the drought so I’ll be putting the water to a good purpose. Thank you, Mother Nature.)

The practice of law has changed so much in the last four decades that to some of us dinosaurs it’s hardly recognizable, if at all. Where should the spotlight be? On lawyers? On the clients? Is Andy Warhol’s future here? You tell me.

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Jill 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 [email protected].