Just as we all are facing how to practice law in our rapidly changing environment, here comes a story about what millennials are killing this year (not my words, it’s the headline).
Millennials are already responsible for killing off a variety of products and services near and dear to us dinosaurs. So, not only are you killing off (or have killed off) law libraries, fax machines, Dictaphones, electric typewriters, and other practice necessities near and dear to the dinosaur generation, you’re now turning your attention to other things. However, the article concludes that it’s not so much that millennials are killing things; it’s that businesses are not adapting. Is there a lesson here for us? What do you think?
In addition to all the things that millennials are purportedly killing, dinosaur lawyers have to come to grips with mortality, not necessarily at the hands of millennials, tempting though it may be to many. At some point, sooner or later, we’ll all be taking dirt naps, sleeping in an urn on a fireplace mantle, or fertilizing rose bushes in the back yard (yes, I know that last option is illegal in many jurisdictions).
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It’s silly to deny our age and that our mental facilities may not be firing on all cylinders any more (excluding me, of course). As the late Ursula K. LeGuin so aptly put it, “If I’m 90 and believe I’m 45, I’m headed for a very bad time trying to get out of the bathtub.” Paints a vivid picture, doesn’t she?
Impending mortality often makes us think about what our legacies as lawyers will be and about those lawyers whose lives have intersected with ours. It’s shameful that it takes death for us to appreciate others who have been in our lives, and that we never took the time to say anything.
You hear comments such as, “He was a great trial lawyer and took the time to mentor younger lawyers.” “She was a fabulous negotiator, taught at her law school, and her students loved her.” “She was a terrific opposing counsel, who always fought fair and usually won.” “He was reasonable and a pleasure to deal with.” (Not to mention comments about being a terrific spouse, partner, parent, coach, and/or friend, but that’s not my point here.)
Those remarks and others of similar ilk are proffered by colleagues and others, but only AFTER death. Makes you wonder why there’s nothing comparable said while that person is still alive. Yes, there are awards dinners, but definitely not enough to go around, especially for the unsung among us.
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Perhaps it’s because in the heat of battle, where someone wins and someone loses, there’s a period of wound licking, when the hurt of the loss stings. By the time the sting is gone, or at least greatly reduced, we’ve moved on to other clients, other cases, other opposing counsel, never taking the time to pick up the phone (yes, it still works) and say something pleasant. It need not be effusive, but a “thank you,” or “I’m glad we were able to get it resolved,” or something similar. How often have I done that? Not often enough.
What brought this issue to mind was the sudden (to me) recent death of a well-respected lawyer here in SoCal. We were acquaintances, never had a case together, but he was active in the mediation community, known as a peacemaker and a complete mensch. I would guess that similar unexpected and untimely deaths have happened to everyone who reads this. (In fact, I just received an email from a good friend who wrote that her brother had died unexpectedly over the weekend.) There can be more than a tinge of regret when these things happen and that nothing was said beforehand.
Illness is a very private matter, and many don’t share details, if at all, for fear that it could put them at a professional disadvantage. When you think about it, that’s a truly lousy reason, but it’s a big reason why very few colleagues and counsel know beforehand and have no chance to say anything then.
How would you like to be remembered? What kind of legacy, if any, do you want to leave? Intend to leave? Is it having made case law? Is it drafting legislation? Is it having argued before the Supreme Court? Is it having had a positive impact on your clients, your colleagues? Is it making a difference? How? Is it leaving this world a better place than when you entered it? Or is your reputation as a first-class jerk going to follow you wherever you end up?
Too touchy-feely for you? Tough. One of the many things you learn as you get older is that life is short, and we get so caught up in the daily crap that we forget that there are humans involved in what we do. Even if you represent huge entities, there are faces and feelings and people behind those hulking behemoths, people trying to do their jobs the best way they can, even if we don’t see it that way, and, as lawyers, we usually don’t.
Learning life’s lessons. Elie Mystal’s post about getting out of private student loan debtor’s prison may be on a different topic, but it confirms my point that with age (although he’s way younger than I am) comes learning, sometimes sooner, sometimes later. I’ll let him say it (emphasis is Elie’s): “If I had it to do over again, OF COURSE I would do some things differently, because what kind of stubborn fool wouldn’t do things differently if they had the benefit of an additional DECADE OF LIFE to re-examine some choices?”
So, think about your legacy, think about how you want to be remembered, think about all the times when you wanted to say something kind or nice or supportive or respectful, or whatever, but didn’t. It takes so little effort and time to be thoughtful. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda” doesn’t get you very far, so I suggest a different spin on “if you see something, say something.”
Jill Switzer has been an active member of the State Bar of California for 41 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].