I can trace four periods in my life that significantly shaped my writing.

First, I’ve always been a passionate reader. Reading the good writing of others is not only great fun, it’s indispensable for learning to write well.

Second, in college I double majored in Philosophy and Literature-Writing. These years taught me to write very quickly. In a pinch, I would often leave myself only a very few hours–sometimes only 2 or 3–to write a paper that I could have worried over for days. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this habit of procrastination–not recommended for everyone–which required me to organize my thoughts and write coherent prose very rapidly, was probably the best preparation for the writing skills I use almost everyday as a lawyer.

Third was law school. I don’t like to think that law school did much to shape my writing. I didn’t get along with the IRAC method† at first. As you can imagine, philosophers and literary thinkers tend to (1) doubt anything called a “Rule,” (2) live in the realm of “Analysis,” and (3) sometimes never get to any “Conclusion.” If you’re a law student who struggles with adapting to IRAC, I feel your pain. Take refuge in the knowledge that you’ll one day grasp the beauty of the IRAC method. You’ll master it eventually, or fail the bar exam.

I did benefit from Law Review, however. The journal experience helped me get the hang of editing the writing of others. It also helped hone my citation skills and attention to detail.

Without a doubt, the biggest influence on my legal writing has been the tireless editing and revision by my longtime mentor. For the first five or so years of my career, I always dreaded getting back any first or second draft. Would it be as consumed with red ink as the one that came before?

But he persisted and his tutelage paid off. I learned to write much more crisply and economically. My legal writing became less linguistically rich, but shorter and clearer. And while there were things he did that occasionally drove me absolutely batshit, I really appreciate the time and effort he took working with me to help develop my writing and advocacy skills. I’m now flattered on those rare instances when he seeks out my input on an issue or document.

Now I am occasionally the one with the red pen marking up someone else’s work. This is a big responsibility, and should be treated as such. I came across an interesting New York Times interview of Jonathan Klein, the C.E.O. of Getty Images. Among the issues he discussed was “leadership lessons” he learned from his time at Getty Images. He said this:

“I’ve learned a lot from my executive coach. Anytime someone came to me to show me their work, I would critique it. I would almost behave like a schoolteacher–my mother was a teacher–and bring out the metaphorical red pen. And what I didn’t appreciate at the time is that before you mess around the edges, you’ve got to say to yourself, ‘Am I going to make this significantly better, or am I going to make it only 5 or 10 percent better?’ Because in fiddling over the small stuff, you take away all the empowerment. Basically it no longer becomes that person’s work. After a while, those people get into the habit of giving you incomplete work, and then you have to do it for them.”

Heavy is the hand that carries the (not-so-) metaphorical red pen, right? At least with respect to my writing, I always felt that my mentor’s revisions made the end product “significantly better.” In other words, the red ink was clearly worth his time, my attention and the attendant blow to whatever misplaced or unearned sense of “empowerment” I had as a baby lawyer. But I recognize that I don’t always revise someone else’s work either to help make them a better writer or to make the product “significantly better.” Rather, I’m just making it sound more like I wrote it. And, as Jonathan Klein points out, that’s the wrong approach. I need–we all need–to learn to go easier with that red pen.

†For the benefit of readers outside law, IRAC means Issue, Rule, Analysis and Conclusion. It is how law students, lawyers and judges typically approach a set of facts. In a nutshell, one “spots” or identifies an Issue, articulates or recalls the Rule, Analyzes how the Rule should be applied under the particular facts, and reaches a Conclusion.

Let me start by saying that I know that not everyone who graduates from law school aspires to be a partner in a big law firm. Or a small law firm. Or any law firm. I’m not suggesting it should be everyone’s or anyone’s goal. Many who make it a goal, and achieve it, come to believe it is overrated. I strongly feel from what I hear and read that partnership has become far less important to many than it was when I graduated (1993), and I doubt it was as important to lawyers of my generation compared with earlier generations. I recognize, then, that this post may not be equally interesting to everyone.

Now that I’ve cleared my throat and caused most readers to change the channel, what I want to say is that, if you do aspire to partnership there are far worse words to live by than J. Daniel Hull’s self-described “World Famous Bad-Ass, Annoying and Infuriatingly Correct 12 Rules of Customer Service.”

I can guess what you’re thinking. Hull’s damn Rules are meant to inform the ways attorneys provide service to their clients, not how associates should treat partners. If we adhere strictly to labels, that is true. But I want to argue that being a junior lawyer who works for, takes direction (and compensation) from and attempts to please senior lawyers is very similar to the experience of any lawyer who works for, takes direction (and compensation) from and attempts to please their customers, i.e., clients. Even if one never aspires to be a partner, then, being a good associate can still be terrific training for how to be a good customer service-oriented lawyer. And, Hull’s rules are a damn good start.

Let’s look at them.

1.Represent only clients you like.

I previously said in another post that, at first blush, this rule seems to suggest we all have the luxury to cherry pick clients. Clearly, most of us don’t have this luxury. Similarly, associates rarely have complete control over who assigns them work. On the other hand, just as lawyers can work over the long-term to shape their practices away from clients they don’t like, talented associates can try to shape their position within a firm. While it might never be possible to completely avoid working for a complete asshole, it should be possible to position yourself to work more often with senior lawyers you respect and like. If there’s more than one complete asshole, then you probably don’t want to be a partner at that firm.

2.The client is the main event.

If you get to work and interact directly with a client, that client is the main event. If not, then the partner who assigned you the work is the main event. If you wouldn’t think of filing or giving a client a document that contains typos or is otherwise sloppy (you wouldn’t, would you?), don’t think you’re going to gain traction with any partner who receives a crappy, typo-ridden document. “Gaining traction” is fancy law firm speak for “having a future.” If nothing else, have your assistant proof read everything before you give it to anybody.

3.Make sure everyone in your firm knows the client is the main event.

4.Deliver legal work that changes the way clients think about lawyers.

Here I suggest you to strive to deliver work that changes the way many partners think about many associates. I witnessed first hand during my career the erosion of how many partners regard associates. I trace it to the point in time when a handful of very lucrative Silicon Valley law firms decided to give the historically high paying New York law firms a run for their money in terms of associate compensation. This seemed to coincide roughly with the point at which late Gen X and early Gen Y law students started graduating. The buzzwords I heard a lot around that time (and I wasn’t yet a partner) was some variation of “undeserved sense of entitlement.”

The good news for associates is that many partners are now so underwhelmed with the commitment of more recent law school graduates that it’s actually not that hard to stand out. In my crude, empirically unsound and untested estimation, a Gen Y associate who puts in the same effort as earlier generations of associates could be a rock star at some law firms. On the other hand, I recognize that many Gen Y lawyers have a different sense of priorities than earlier generations, which I suspect is why partnership is not the brass ring it once was.

5.Over-communicate:  bombard, copy and confirm.

Like most clients, most partners like to be kept informed. If you find yourself working with someone who has limited tolerance for minutiae (and they’re out there) be sensitive to that and adjust accordingly.

6.When you work, you are marketing.

This is true whenever you do anything professionally, whether it’s for a client or a partner.

7.Know the client.

Know the partner. Take an interest in her practice and her clients. Think: how can I make her job/life/career easier. Take ownership of cases, deals or assignments and try to think how you can contribute more to the big picture. Don’t be afraid to make suggestions, but be careful not to do things unilaterally that might run contrary to the lead lawyer’s strategy. When in doubt, ask.

8.Think like the client–help control costs.

Think like the partner who is attempting to think like the client. Part of this is understanding and appreciating where you fit in. Ideally, you bring value to the client since it theoretically costs less for you to spend your time doing a task. This should also have a three-fold benefit to the partner and the law firm. On the one hand, it should free up the partner to spend less time doing more routine tasks and more time thinking strategically and doing more sophisticated tasks requiring experience, training and judgment for which clients are willing to pay higher fees. It should also free up the partner to spend more time marketing and bringing in new business which helps the firm grow. Finally, if leveraged properly, associates are profitable. While partners should not shrink from the responsibility of training, and cutting associate time from the bill is often appropriate, the more the above runs like a well-oiled machine the better for everyone involved.

9.Be there for clients–24/7.

I was going to say, “That’s why the firm bought you that iPhone 5,” but that’s not really what I mean. Perhaps it’s better to say that many clients expect their most trusted advisors to be there when they’re needed, without regard to day of the week or hour of the day. Associates that make it clear they will do what they can to recognize and meet this expectation will tend to be viewed as more valuable than associates who do not. I will admit that, as an associate, I jealously guarded my time away from work. As I started developing my own clients, however, I came to realize that, in doing this, I was just putting off the inevitable, since clients really do expect their trusted advisors to be available 24/7. It’s just part of the job which, as we know, is not for everybody.

10.Be accurate, thorough and timely–but not perfect.

It’s okay to make mistakes. But own mistakes when you make them. Resist the temptation to conceal mistakes or shift blame to others. Clients see right through this and so do partners.

11.Treat each co-worker like he or she is your best client.

Being graded on citizenship doesn’t stop when you leave grade school. Whether it’s made explicit or not, one thing partners consider when making advancement decisions is how well you fit in. Whether the office has 3 or 130 people, the ability to work well with others is important. If you’re rude to other lawyers, disrespectful or downright mean to staff, it can hinder your advancement. Many firms, including my own, pride themselves on having “very few sharp elbows.” Regardless how talented you may be, if you have “sharp elbows,” or an outsized sense of your own importance, or you’re just a jerk, it can make it hard for you to gain traction.

12.Have fun.

If you’re not having fun as an associate, it’s unlikely the practice of law is going to become fun if/when you become a partner, and your responsibilities extend far beyond doing great work and billing lots of hours, to include marketing and management responsibilities. If you’re not having any fun, maybe it’s time to think about doing something else.

So, if partnership is what you’re after, try applying Dan Hull’s “annoying and infuriatingly correct” Rules  to the service you provide.

I was really pleased to come across this article in the ABA Journal about Drexel University Professor Karl Okamoto, who has created a moot court-type experience dedicated to helping students hone skills needed to practice transactional law. I know the focus of this blog is generally on litigation and trial skills, but I applaud Professor Okamoto for coming up with something new and inspiring to fill the huge void for students who don’t want to litigate, or maybe just want to get a taste for what deal lawyers do. I hope similar programs become more widely available.

I probably speak for a lot of litigators who feel that they did not so much choose to go the litigation route as settle for what was available. Certainly, when I dreamt of becoming a lawyer I pictured myself in a courtroom. And I spend a fair amount of time there. But I spend an equal or greater amount of time either chained to a computer drafting motions and discovery responses or taking depositions. If I had learned something about doing deals early on, who knows . . .

Almost every transaction lawyer I know enjoys his or her practice more than the average litigator I know. The only exception to this comes from the fact that transactional law, M & A, real estate deals, private placement, public offerings and the like, seems to be a cyclical practice. At least in the past two decades, it’s been feast or famine for a lot of the deal lawyers I know, particularly at BigLaw firms. That’s not to say that litigation isn’t cyclical. In fact, I’m told we’re in a down cycle in many litigation practice areas right now.

The number of students who spend their second year summer in a BigLaw summer associate program has been shrinking. I know that neither BigLaw nor these programs are everybody’s cup of tea. On the other hand, up until now such programs have been the only opportunity most law students (and many lawyers) ever get to experience how transactional law is practiced.

Here’s how Professor Okamoto’s moot transaction program, LawMeets, works:

“[S]tudents get fact patters for a deal and play the roles of buyer, seller and client. Over a period of months, they have conferences; draft, exchange and mark up documents; and then negotiate the deal. Prominent transactional lawyers judge their documents and negotiations, as well as offer feedback. Then the students get to watch the pros haggle over the same terms. ‘That’s when we think the “ahas” begin,’ Okamoto says.”

One added benefit I can immediately see to this program is how it forces students to complete a project over several months, which is much more similar to an actual law practice, where it is necessary to sustain focus on a deal (or a case, or several cases) over a longer period of time, often punctuated by short periods of frenzied activity.

The other interesting approach is asking the judges to demonstrate how they would handle the same situation. This could influence the way trial advocacy and moot court competitions are taught, though it might make it more difficult to find judges who’ll volunteer, not only to judge the competition, but also demonstrate their skills.

Kudos to Professor Okamoto!

The Wall Street Journal ran an article yesterday discussing the ongoing debate whether the traditional course of study for a law degree, which is a prerequisite in most states for admission to practice, should be reduced from three years to just two. Even President Obama, who is both the product of a traditional three-year Juris Doctor program and a former legal educator, weighed in somewhat in favor of a change. The biggest factor spurring this debate seems to be the skyrocketing costs of law school.

I approach this question with the following background. I graduated from a high second-tier law school in 1993. I paid my own way through law school, amassing about $80,000 in loans. I had accepted an offer at an insurance defense firm where I had been clerking for 2 years; my starting salary was $52,000. It took me about 11 (painful) years to pay off my student loans. I give this background to make clear that I don’t come at this issue from the perspective of the academic elite, nor did I finish school without a job.

My experience working for various small firms, mid-sized litigation firms, and now at an AmLaw 150 firm tells me that reducing the amount of training, whether it is Socratic classroom lectures or on-the-job clinical training, will not serve anyone’s interests. Beyond reducing the cost/debt of law school, it will not benefit newly-minted lawyers, who would spring from the costly but generally encouraging womb of  law school with even less to offer than at present. It will not benefit most law firms that (unlike my own) do not or cannot afford to invest in providing their lawyers with systematic, ongoing training on how to write, argue, advocate at trial or negotiate. Most importantly, it will not benefit clients who find themselves saddled with a new lawyer that was not sufficiently trained before being ejected from the nest.

The rising cost of law school, and resulting debt for students who may or may not be able to secure a job that exploits their training and compensates them accordingly is a real problem. It’s a terrible problem. But I do not believe that the solution lies in grinding future lawyers harder during their first two years, then turning them loose to commit malpractice at the expense of unsuspecting clients any sooner.

I have written here and here that law schools should increase the amount of real-world experience students receive before they graduate. If this can be done in a way that reduces the expense of the third year of school, then it would be a win-win. Even after I secured my first paying job as a law clerk, I still did some pro bono work in a law clerk capacity, both because it made me feel good and I gained experience I could include on my resume. Providing there is adequate supervision, many third year students could earn credits performing similar activities, which should both reduce their education tab and boost access to justice for the underserved.

BigLaw firms like my own have increasingly become involved in pro bono initiatives in which they “partner” with client legal staffs to tackle larger pro bono opportunities. This is clearly a win-win for the law firm, which gets to show off its lawyers’ skills, and for the beneficiaries of the pro bono projects, who enjoy enthusiastic, top drawer legal talent. Perhaps such “partnering” could be expanded to include third year law students, creating a win-win-win, as students get to interface with law firm leaders while showing off their enthusiasm and talent. Just a thought.

I applaud educators and others in the profession for trying to improve the situation for folks who want to practice law, a goal which should be pursued with boundless verve. On the other hand, snipping off that third year with no better substitute would be a regrettable choice.

I am a big fan of Dan Hull‘s writing at his popular What About Paris/What About Clients blog. He has intellect, wit and a literary bent. One post which often seems to show up again and again in the legal blogosphere is his self-described “World Famous Bad-Ass, Annoying and Infuriatingly Correct 12 Rules of Customer Service.” If you’re not familiar with the 12 Rules, and you work in virtually any service industry, they’re worth thinking about.

I’ve wondered, however, why Dan refers to his own Rules as “annoying” and “infuriating.” Though I suspect he’s being hyperbolic, I think his description is unfair. I also think that any lawyer who finds the Rules annoying or infuriating should maybe look into another line of work. Here’s why I think the Rules are not so very annoying:

1.Represent only clients you like.

Ah, what a luxury, to be able to cherry pick clients and jettison those you don’t personally like. The Rule would be annoying, infuriating even, if you took the short, as opposed to the long view. If you’re a first year at a firm and servicing the firm’s clients, you definitely don’t have this luxury. However, as your career matures, you can hopefully begin to shape your practice and client development efforts so that you can increasingly avoid clients you don’t like. And you should. The remaining Rules are much easier to follow if you’re doing work for people or companies you like and respect.

2.The client is the main event.

If you’ve been a client, a patient or customer and been treated as a second class citizen–and who hasn’t–this rings true. The minute you lose sight of this Rule you’ve begun walking the road toward extinction, at least as a lawyer. Unless you provide a unique set of skills or knowledge and there is no one else in your region to compete with, you must follow this commandment, because at least one of your competitors will.

3.Make sure everyone in your firm knows the client is the main event.

Why would this be annoying? After all, these people are on your payroll. A good way to gauge whether others in your firm appreciate the importance of the client is by what they include in internal email communications. If, for example, they let comments slip into communications intended for distribution only within the law firm that suggest they do not completely respect the client, this should set off alarm bells and a chat should follow. First, we’ve all heard examples of emails in which the sender intended only to “reply” or “forward” the message, but instead hit “reply to all,” where “all” included someone–like a client–who didn’t appreciate a comment contained in the message. It’s a matter of time before this happens to everyone. Second, we often interact with our clients through our staff or associates. They need to treasure your clients (almost) as much as you do.

4.Deliver legal work that changes the way clients think about lawyers.

This Rule really doesn’t ask you to do anything beyond what many lawyers already do: aspire to practice law effectively, efficiently and, in the case of courtroom lawyers, win! The good news is that, with so many hacks running around out there, if you hold yourself to higher professional standards you’re already applying this Rule and clients will appreciate it. The bad news is that, with so many hacks out there, doing what hacks do, for so long, it’s going to take a lot to change the way clients think about lawyers. But do your part.

5.Over-communicate:  bombard, copy and confirm.

Put yourself in your client’s shoes. How much information would you want? It has been said that, as lawyers, we “sell paper.” That’s probably an oversimplification, but there is some truth to the notion that a client cannot appreciate what he or she never sees. A good part of what we charge for is the preparation of work product–motions, pleadings, correspondence, memoranda–why not let clients see what they’re paying for?

6.When you work, you are marketing.

Since we comply with Rule 5, supra, our clients can see and evaluate our work product. If the quality is high, it is both justification for the fees we charge and an advertisement why the client should hire us, and not a competitor, next time. If the quality is not high, it’s a perfect advertisement for our competitors. If you take pride in your work product, why would this be annoying?

7.Know the client.

In my practice, which focuses on defending employers in suits and claims arising out of the employment relationship, this Rule is elementary. It is why, as I’ve said, I take every opportunity to hold meetings at my clients’ offices or facilities. As Dan has said, “The client . . . actually wants you to know him, her or it. Take time out to learn the stock price, industry, day-to-day culture, players and overall goals of your client. Visit their offices and plants. Do it free of charge.”

8.Think like the client–help control costs.

I am constantly amazed at how costs mount when a case is litigated. I am not referring necessarily to the fees charged by the attorneys themselves, because this is a topic about which I have only the slightest understanding. Beyond a hazy idea of what others charge who do exactly what I do in my region, I don’t know what goes into this equation. I’m told there are now lawyers who bill $1,200 per hour. All I can say is, really?

Beyond attorney fees, however, there is a lot we can do to control costs when a case is in litigation, including deposition costs, investigation costs, photocopy costs. Sometimes, it takes some creativity, but our interests here should be aligned with our client and we should scrutinize these hard costs just as we would if we were paying invoices out of our own pockets.

9.Be there for clients–24/7.

This is what that iPhone is for (not just to play Angry Birds and take “selfies”). Oh, what it must have been like to practice law before fax machines, computers or mobile phones. But we don’t. We’re in a different era. We should not only survive in this new environment, but thrive.

10.Be accurate, thorough and timely–but not perfect.

Again, treat your client as you expect to be treated as a client, patient or customer. But feel free to occasionally cut yourself some slack, too.

11.Treat each co-worker like he or she is your best client.

This doesn’t sound at first like a rule geared toward client service, but here’s what Dan has said about Rule 11:

“Clients love to form partnerships with law, accounting, consulting firms and service providers of all manner with genuinely functional workplaces.  They love work communities where the professionals are demanding but love what they do and solve problems together as a team of happy, focused people who stretch–but respect–one another.  It’s fun for them to watch, and fun to watch them watch you.  Clients want to be part of that.  Watching the “well-oiled” team is an image which sticks in the client mind.”

A well-oiled team is not only an image that sticks in the client’s mind, it is also a really good way to make the practice of law fun instead of pure drudgery.

12.Have fun.

Well, duh!

I had a great dinner last night with someone I’ve known off and on for several years and who qualifies as one of the true luminaries of the Los Angeles Bar. Part of what made it a special meal was the food (lemon white wine-poached branzino). But a bigger part was our jovial conversation and his stories about his practice and his travels. It was such an uplifting discussion, in fact, that I spent some time today reflecting on it and I think I’ve put my finger on why I came away feeling so good. It’s this: my dinner companion was first admitted to practice law in January, 1969. Yet, now, after more than 44 years of lawyering, he still enjoys it!

He actually said, “I love what I do.” I don’t know about your friends, colleagues and acquaintances, but I don’t meet too many lawyers who’ve been doing this even just 25 or 30 years who still really seem to enjoy it. Or who enjoy it enough to declare, without the slightest hint of irony, “I love what I do.” Do you love what you do?

Like those researchers who desperately want to unlock the secret to longevity in a culture like Sardinia, Italy or Okinawa, Japan, his words caused me to wonder whether he had stumbled upon some little known formula to continuing to find law enjoyable after over four decades. I haven’t uncovered any secret formula, but after some thought I’ve identified a few factors, habits or traits, if you will, that could help explain how my friend has managed, not only to go the distance, but to do it joyfully. Without further throat-clearing, here’s what I’ve gathered:

Balance

As tempted as you might be to snicker at the notion of “work-life balance,” particularly now when everybody is supposed to feel lucky just to have a job and the new buzz phrase is “lean in,” don’t dismiss this too quickly (that includes you, too, Scott H. Greenfield). When my friend described his notion of balance, it did not mean always leaving work at a “reasonable time” so he can enjoy his life and time with family. His practice is litigation-oriented, specialized and in-demand, so he’s not working what used to be called “banker’s hours.”

But he did stress that he both “works hard and plays hard.” His meaning was that, while there may be some nights that he’s responding to emails in the early morning hours, there are lots of other nights when he’s having dinner with intriguing folks like me. This is the kind of balance I, too, have tried to find in recent years, recognizing that it’s not always going to work to leave the office at 6, or 7 or whenever. But for every time I get stuck working into the night, I make sure there are many more nights when I’m doing something I really enjoy–like spending time with my daughter.

Vacation/Travel

When I first met this man in 1996, he told me he routinely took 5-6 weeks off annually, and spent much of it traveling abroad. When I reminded him of this comment last night he smiled and said, “now it’s more like 11-12 weeks off.” Wow. Just wow.

I fully recognize that most lawyers simply cannot, financially or logistically, afford to take 2 or 3 months off every year. So bear with me, because my point is not that we should all make that a goal, but something a little more fundamental.

For my friend, he loves time off and he loves to travel. So he structured his professional life so that it enables him to maintain a thriving practice while taking a substantial (by anyone’s measure) amount of time off. He is also really good at what he does, so he is in demand and charges a premium.

But, here’s the reason I bring this up: he has found something he loves outside the law and he pursues it and will not let anything, including his practice, prevent him from doing that thing. And we can all learn something from that. We don’t have to disappear for months at a time and visit faraway lands. But I do think having a life, interests and activities outside the law–and making time to enjoy them–may be one of the important keys to a long, enjoyable legal career. One that can last over 40 years! But it won’t happen without some serious effort toward that goal.

A Team

If you’re wondering how my friend can escape a thriving law practice for months at a time, the answer is that he doesn’t do it alone. When I met him in 1996, he had an associate and a fantastic paralegal. Now he has a few “of counsel” lawyers and a paralegal. Again, he didn’t build this practice overnight, but as it grew he early recognized the need for help. We talked briefly about his team last night and he was complementary of their skills, which led me to believe that, when he takes time away, he is confident that his clients’ needs are being protected just as if he were in town.

Here, again, vetting and training a team who could competently manage his practice when he travels must have been a challenge. But, knowing he wanted a life outside the law, he spent the necessary time and energy. I don’t know, perhaps he was also very lucky with the people he found and hired. Perhaps he treats them well. But the upshot is that he’s able to take (a lot of) time away and do so comfortably. I’ll leave it to you to ponder whether this is one of the keys to his longevity.

A Practice He Loves

I do relish a good circular argument. But, the fact is, my friend loves what he does because he does something he loves. If you don’t find an area of the law that you “love” to practice now, you’re probably not going to love it in 25, 30 or 40 years. And I don’t think you have to love it at all, but if you’re going to spend four decades doing an activity many hours a week, it will really help if it’s something you find stimulating. I will readily admit I don’t love my practice, but I do find it stimulating, and I’m hoping it will stimulate me at least until my daughter finishes college.

Have I discovered the career longevity equivalent of Sardinian olives? I don’t know. But I can point to one person whose been practicing for 44 years and is still going strong. I hope I will be able to say as much.

In all but the rarest instances, I come away from a lawsuit with a clearer memory of my opponent’s lawyer than of the opponent. When I get involved in a new case, I’ll often do some research to see who I’m up against. Is she a solo or a member of a firm? Have my colleagues dealt with her in prior cases, or do I know anything about her by reputation (which, as we know, can be grossly inaccurate). As we wind through the case, I form or refine my impression of her. Generally, by the end of a case, we part ways either as friends or at least as professionals. Even in those instances in which I’ve had to be aggressive, I try not to let it get too personal.

That’s not to say I always finish a case feeling “respect” for my opponent. Let’s face it, some lawyers just don’t deserve it. And, while I don’t like to generalize, I can identify four categories of opposing counsel for whom I don’t usually feel respect at the end of the day. Are you one of these?

The Overt Asshole

This post (the entire blog, for that matter) is built on the assumption that lawyers are not per se assholes. If you hold the opposite view, then I’m not writing for you–go back to playing Farmville on Facebook.

It’s not hard to gain entry into this category, at least in my book. Refuse courtesy extensions, yell at me or my client during a deposition, make threats you know you could never carry out, insult my client, my ethics or my skills, talk down to me . . . You get the picture. What’s surprising is how seldom I’ve finished a case and branded my opponent an Overt Asshole. Perhaps the bigger surprise is that I can think of more lawyers representing co-defendants who qualified for this title than lawyers representing parties who sued my clients.

The Liar

Ah, the truth-challenged. Even nations at war are expected to adhere to a code of ethics. There’s a special circle in hell for those that don’t, and the same is true for lawyers. Telling lies is just dirty pool and should never be rewarded. Even on those instances in which it could be harmless, it degrades our profession. I’m not talking here about Bill Clinton-style fibbing under oath (though that sucks, too, but for different reasons). I’m referring to making blatant misrepresentations to the court orally or in papers. I’ve found there is often an overlap between The Liar and the Overt Asshole.

The BFF

Some lawyers think it’s strategically advantageous to be your Bestie from the get-go. This isn’t to say a genuine friendship can’t grow out of litigating a case together. I can count a handful of former opposing counsel whom I consider true friends. But when there’s an obvious strategic motive behind playing the role of best friend while litigating a case–and it’s usually possible to tell if that’s what’s going on–then the BFF is really little different from The Liar, right?

The Legend-In-His-Own-Mind

This is the guy who needs a 7-series BMW with extra trunk room for his ego. This is the guy who did pretty good in a trial once and will force his opponents to re-live those moments of glory in Technicolor. This is the guy who boasts to his opponents during deposition that he’s “a different breed.” (True story!) You don’t want to see him in action in front of the jury in this case! You know the type, right? If you don’t, you’ll encounter him some day. There are crossover possibilities here with the Overt Asshole, as well.

Do any of these describe you? In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit to being a little bit of each–except The Liar–at one point or another during the last 20 years. But I guarantee those weren’t my finest moments.

Could licensed lawyers ever go the way of the Dodo and S & H Green Stamps?

I came across this recent article in the Wall Street Journal about the growing interest by non-traditional law school students in signing up for selected law school courses and seeking non-JD graduate-level law degrees (i.e., a Masters) in discreet areas of the law, such as health care, etc. The article got me wondering whether anything could ever bring about a long-term shift away from a world in which graduate students incur huge debt to obtain JD degrees, sit for an arduous 18 hour bar examination, get their license, only to learn that: (1) there are too few available jobs for newly-minted lawyers; (2) many lawyers will only use a fraction of the information we learned during law school; and (3) although we are “fiduciaries” only about 31-38% of the public trusts their lawyers–anything could cause a glacial shift away from this world into one in which tasks and responsibilities traditionally handled by licensed lawyers are done instead by non-lawyers who may (or may not) have specialized training to enable them to assume that responsibility or perform that task.

While I’m just musing, some wonk has surely crunched the numbers and stands ready with a handy statistic about how much this change has already occurred. After all, NOLO has been around since the 1970s. LegalZoom and similar providers have (apparently successfully) developed products and services specifically designed to omit lawyers from supposedly “simple” transactions such as corporate formation, or the drafting of a trust or will. Sophisticated organizations, including realtor associations, already provide for arbitrations with non-lawyer industry experts serving as the neutrals to resolve a dispute. I also know of potentially expensive and protracted divorce disputes that were resolved with reduced time, expense and pain through the involvement of psychologist-lawyer mediation teams.

Let me be clear about what I am not talking about. Professors, bloggers and writers have discussed ad nauseam the disruptive and earth-shaking changes in the business of law (along with the “business” of teaching lawyers their trade) which have largely occurred over the past half-decade. I neither pretend nor want to contribute to this discussion. This is not about The New Normal, whatever you may think of that label. I don’t care whether or how NOLO or LegalZoom might impact the annual Profits Per Partner at Skadden (it won’t) or the profits of a sole practitioner in Visalia, California (it might), or will cause some random law school to shut its doors.

I’m talking instead about the future of our profession. The future of the idea that we are a civilization that needs expensive intermediaries, people specially trained to do our thinking, drafting and arguing for us. That we are a civilization in which two people who reach an agreement need two (or more) comparatively expensive people to reduce it to writing. Or that we lack the ability to argue effectively on our own behalf, without a mouthpiece, about anything more serious than a small debt or a traffic ticket. Are we still going to be that civilization in the future? Or could we ever evolve into a civilization in which lawyers are those jokers they talk about in history books? “I once saw one!”

What, if anything, does it say about the interest, ability and willingness of the public to commit to become more do-it-ourself with regard to tasks and responsibilities formerly handled exclusively by licensed lawyers? By the same token, what could it say about the interest and willingness of people who once thought they wanted to be a licensed lawyer to elect instead to focus their education on a sub or sub-sub-speciality of law (saving $100,000 + in tuition in the process)?

I’m not suggesting any of this could happen soon. Our systems are not ready for it. For example, while citizens are presently free to represent themselves in civil and criminal courts, I can’t even begin to suggest that it’s a good idea for anybody. I’ve been practicing in courts for 20 years, but it would never (ever) occur to me to represent myself in any criminal matter beyond a speeding ticket (and even then). But, like all things, this could change. If criminal and civil courts ever became pro se-friendly . . . (Don’t laugh. Stop it.)

I’m also not taking the position that a civilization without a legal profession would be better or worse than ours. Just different.

One of the first things a business development coach will tell you is to identify people whom you believe can help you in your quest to build a practice. If you’re like me, this might cause you to look around and compile a list of people you think might hire you directly. If you’re an employment lawyer, for example, you might try to identify business owners and human resources directors you know who could have an immediate need for your services and finding a way to market to them.

This is probably not the worst approach. After all, you’re doing something in a calculated effort to build business, which is certainly better than nothing, right?

But better than nothing is not necessarily the best. I’ve lately come to think there is indeed an even better way. Based largely on my own experiences, as well as what I’ve seen with friends and colleagues who truly qualify as “rainmakers,” I believe now that the highest return on effort (ROE), at least when you’re first building your practice, is to leverage those who you are close to and who probably care about you most. Sure the two approaches might overlap; if a close relative happens also to own a business that, as all businesses do, needs employment counsel, then there’s no difference. But what I’m describing here does not involve asking a friend or relative to send you work directly, but allowing that person to act as a conduit to boost your chances of getting business through an introduction or referral.

Let me right away clarify two things. First, what you’re after isn’t a free lunch. You’re not looking for someone to hand you an envelope full of cash; you’re seeking the opportunity to perform quality legal services for a person or business who genuinely needs that legal service. Second, I do not mean leverage in the sense of use. Do not use those closest to you to get ahead. You will feel like a user and your friends and family will feel used. Don’t be a user.

On the other hand, if your relationship and trust are such that you would not hesitate to do something–take a chance, even–to give your friend or relative a boost, then why not give them the same opportunity? I would argue (based on experience I’ve had acting as a conduit to build my friends’ businesses) that the friend or relative who goes out on a limb to help grow his/her friend’s business is the one getting the biggest emotional reward. Have you ever enjoyed giving gifts more than receiving them? Plus, the one getting the business opportunity still has to do the work, while the one who did nothing more than make an introduction or referral gets to sit back and feel good.

What I’m talking about involves a two-step process. First, it requires letting that person close to you know that she can help you and that you’d appreciate that help. This is necessary because it does not immediately occur to everyone that they can help you or that the help is wanted. Some might even hesitate to make an introduction or referral–particularly if they are not familiar with the practice of law–because they are worried it will be viewed as meddling in your business.

The second step requires explanation. You must help those around you understand exactly what you do and who your clients typically are. An easy way to do this is to explain a recent case you handled. If you were successful on behalf of your client (hopefully you were in this particular story), explain how good it made you feel to help that person or business through a tough situation. You want to sell yourself without sounding like your selling yourself. The point is to make that person who knows you, who trusts you, and who would probably like to do whatever he/she can to make your life better understand both that you would appreciate their help and how they can help.

This can be a lot easier if you’re in a position to assist the close friend or relative toward reaching his or her goals first. I’m a big believer in “paying forward,” looking for opportunities to do a good turn for another without any expectation of payback. I know now, in a way I never understood before, that there really is karma when it comes to relationships and good deeds in the business world. Unless they are direct competitors, people generally want to feel like they’ve played an important role in a close friend or relative’s success.

The path from the first day of law school to an aspiring lawyer’s first job is an increasingly precarious journey, with a shrinking margin for error. I like to think others can learn from my mistakes, which is why I am going to describe the dumbest thing I did when I was in law school. (I also continue to be inspired by Jordan Rushie’s brutally honest post on the Philly Law Blog specifically on the topic of hubris.)

Like every law school, Loyola (Los Angeles), where I attended, offered classes in Trial Advocacy. Believing I wanted to be a litigator, I took “Trial Ad,”  and had a fabulous adjunct professor (John McNicholas), who is a gifted trial lawyer and extremely successful fellow Loyola alum. I received a great education about how to try a case. The only problem is that the nuts and bolts training I received was not done in an actual courtroom, but in a posh new classroom constructed (at students’ and alumni expense) to look like a courtroom. Other members of the class served as judge and jury.

While I learned how to introduce evidence, lay a foundation, examine and cross-examine witnesses, object, respond to objections, etc., there was none of the extreme pressure, i.e., fear factor, that comes with trying to introduce evidence, examine a witness, etc. in a real court of law, in front of a real judge, with real facts, real victims, real defendants and real consequences. Plus, even though I “tried” a theoretical case during class, there were no bragging rights that came with completing my Trial Ad class; I couldn’t tell prospective employers in an interview that I had any real courtroom experience because, like most law students, I had no real courtroom experience. But imagine how impressive I could sound during an interview if I could say I’d cross-examined a witness in a preliminary hearing!

As it happens, one of the professors at Loyola (at least at that time) had created a special program in conjunction with his connections at the LA City Attorney’s office. Instead of one semester, this trial advocacy class was a full year, the first semester being classroom training much like I received, and during the second semester students would spend a day or two (I can’t remember which) “embedded” in a City Attorney’s office and acting as a prosecutor for criminal preliminary hearings. The cases weren’t all that sexy or complicated–drug possession, perhaps prostitution–but this was the perfect training ground for a future civil litigator or criminal lawyer to develop crucial skills, only with real victims, defendants, witnesses and judges. Even better, while the professor would determine students’ grades for the first semester of classroom training, it would fall to the Deputy City Attorneys to propose a participant’s grade for the second semester. (I never heard about anyone getting below a B, and As were the norm.)

The catch? Of course the program was only open to a limited number of students, and a student who wanted in had to interview for a spot. You know the rest of the story, right? You’re thinking I signed up, totally choked on the interview and didn’t get invited. Or that I missed the deadline to sign up. Or I got in but was kicked out for some ghastly reason or another.

Nope. It was none of these. Instead, even though I recognized it was a great opportunity, I purposely let the time come and go to sign up and interview. Why? Because I was insulted by the fact I was required to interview. I thought it was ridiculous–a needless imposition. It seemed to me that, if I was paying the same tuition as everybody else, I should automatically be allowed to take the class.

In other words, I let some lame, unrealistic expectation stand between me and an opportunity I knew even then was a golden one. Of course my law school girlfriend signed up, interviewed and got in. And she loved it. Learned a lot and had a blast. And she got an A both semesters.

Hear this: I made this mistake so you don’t have to. Don’t do it. Whether it was immaturity, hubris, unconscious fear of rejection (or fear of success)–whatever the reason–don’t let something stupid hang you up and prevent you from seizing a golden opportunity. Don’t disappoint me; I’m watching.

I was really impressed by a recent post at Philly Law Blog, in which Jordan Rushie discusses a humbling experience he had early in his law practice. What was so great about the post (and I highly recommend it, as well as the blog generally) was Rushie’s brave willingness to expose the kind of judgmentally-impoverished immaturity most of us have when we first start out. I bet many of us who have graduated into our second, third or fourth decade of practice could, if we were brave enough and our memory was up to it, recall an instance where we used similarly poor judgment.

I can’t speak for doctors or other professionals, but I know the first couple of years practicing law can be a challenging time. I think it stems largely from the following: when we start out (1) we’ve invested 3 years and a pile of money to get a degree which suggests we know what we were doing; (2) our employers and/or clients hire and (hopefully) pay us because we’re supposed to know what we’re doing; (3) the professional and ethical obligations imposed on us are premised on the assumption that we know what we’re doing, BUT (4) we don’t really know what we’re doing. When we get into a situation we’re unprepared to handle, we want so badly not to admit or show that we don’t know what to do, we often punt. While it works sometimes, other times punting can get us into a predicament that’s embarrassing, or worse.

This is compounded by opposing counsel who, if they have any experience at all, will figure out pretty quick that we are brand new and don’t really know what we’re doing. Some will exploit this.

My first deposition was a classic example. I was a first year lawyer, working at an insurance defense firm. While not nearly as prestigious (or well-paying) as BigLaw firms, starting your career representing insured clients in a variety of cases has tremendous value as a training exercise. While you’re not litigating Apple vs. Samsung, you generally get the chance to take depositions, argue motions, handle arbitrations, mediations and settlement conferences–in short, lawyering–from your very first day.

I had sat through a couple of depositions taken by partners in the firm–because God knows you’re not taught deposition skills in law school–and then let loose to take my first deposition of a third-party witness in a fender-bender case. It was so hokey, I think we took the depo at the witness’s home. In any event, I got there first and waited on the doorstep for my opponent to arrive. She did, and seemed friendly enough at first. She had a harried appearance, in her mid-late 40s. I must have looked really green, because pretty early in the conversation she asked “Is this your first deposition?” What was I going to do? Lie? Get offended? Tell her it was none of her business?

The court reporter arrived and swore in the witness. I did fine through the admonitions. But once I started getting to the meat of the testimony my opponent quickly adopted this habit of interjecting, either when she thought my question wasn’t clear or good enough, or to “clear something up” after the witness responded. She never objected to my questions, just went through and “fixed” them as we went along. Of course she fixed them in a way that rendered useless any testimony that might have been useful to my client. I remember thinking at the time that this didn’t seem right, that it wasn’t how the depositions I’d watched had gone, but I didn’t have the balls (at the time) to shut her up.

In the end the transcript of the deposition was pretty useless for purposes of my client’s defense. But it wasn’t the end of the world. If the carrier paid $8,900 to settle the case instead of $8,500 because we didn’t have a great third-party witness deposition to use at trial, it didn’t seem to bother the partner who’d sent me on the depo. He just laughed when I talked to him about it. He said, “Next time, tell her it’s your dime and she’ll get her turn.”

One of the greatest things I’ve ever done for myself was to plan and take a sabbatical from my law practice to travel throughout Asia. From October, 2006 through March, 2007, my wife and I traveled through Japan, China, Thailand, Nepal, India, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Singapore, Indonesia (Bali), Australia, New Zealand and French Polynesia (Tahiti and Moorea).

Before, during and since the trip, people (colleagues, family, strangers) expressed a variety of responses to the notion of taking a break 15 years into our law practices to do extended travel. While most were positive (some bordering on a kind of awe), I knew there were a few people who saw the time off and the trip as an extravagant self-indulgence. After all, isn’t that the kind of travel (especially rough, the way we did it) best done right after college, before you get going in your career, start developing clients, etc.?

I thought that way, too, when my wife first proposed it before we got married. But she had dreamt of doing extended travel for years before we met and, since I loved to travel, it wasn’t too long before I was fully on board with the program. But while I am grateful and proud of us for taking the sabbatical and doing the trip, I will say it took a lot of meticulous planning to transform the dream into reality. I thought I would share some of the details, in case others are interested in planning a 6 month or longer travel sabbatical.

1.  Start planning early. We started our serious planning for the time off and trip at least 5 years before our departure. Credit for this planning goes 100% to my wife, Heather. While I was committed in principle to the dream of taking a chunk of time off to travel, I found it hard to think practically about how to make it happen. But I’m really glad we had 5 years to plan, because that time made it possible both to save money and give ample notice to our employers.

2.  Telling the boss. This was in many ways the most important part of the planning process and the aspect that can seem like the biggest challenge (at least it did for me). In my case, I had layers of “bosses” (aka partners) to whom I needed to plausibly sell my dream. Here’s the rub: most of us desire to be so indispensable that our firm cannot thrive without us, which is why we command large salaries, big offices, etc.; at the same time, we may want to have the freedom to pursue a dream like a travel sabbatical. Some (many?) would say that’s not possible, and there’s probably some truth to that. The very definition of indispensable means it would be devastating to my practice to go away for 6 months, largely incommunicado.  In my case, at that time, I was not indispensable. I was still largely a “service partner” and it was possible to hire a senior associate to take over my a good part of my caseload (I’m happy to report she has since been elevated to partner).

But I don’t want to oversimplify this part of the equation. I was (and am) very fortunate to work for a law firm and with a group of lawyers sophisticated enough to embrace the notion of a partner leaving for half a year to go explore the other side of the planet. I fully recognize that many (if not most) law firms and managing partners either cannot or will not permit someone to take such a leave, absent some kind of emergency.

In any event, I approached my mentor and senior firm management with the proposal to take a 6 month unpaid leave about a year and a half before I intended to leave. I will admit that I was concerned that, if the request was not well-received, it could impact my advancement and compensation even if I never went, but that was a risk I was willing to take. While nobody received the proposal negatively, it did take the better part of a year before I finally received written “permission” to take the leave.

3.  Save. Save. Save. Even if you travel pretty rough, as we did, it’s still expensive. My wife bought my one major airline ticket which got us to and from Asia and across some major geographic gaps for about $4,000 as my 40th birthday present (Thanks!). I still saved and ultimately spent about $20,000 on the trip. When I use the term “rough” here, it bears clarification. We did not stay in youth hostels–mostly because we’re old and I didn’t want to be that creepy 40 year-old guy hanging around, leering at somebody’s young Swedish girlfriend while my wife contemplated divorce (or found herself leering at the Swedish girl’s boyfriend). So, when I say rough, we tried to find acceptable lodging just above the hostel level, which meant we always had a private, lockable room, and sometimes our own bathroom. Insects and cold showers were not that unusual. We also treated ourselves occasionally to finer lodgings, like over Christmas, when we rubbed shoulders with India’s upper class at a plush resort in Goa.

4. What to do with your primary residence. This can be a pain in the ass, but it wasn’t for us. Our next door neighbor, a Cal Tech professor, made it possible for us to lease our house, completely furnished, to two Harvard history professors who were on research sabbatical. Not only did the rent cover our mortgage, but they took better care of our house than we usually did. And we became friends! We also had a vacation condo in Santa Barbara and had to find a renter there, too. Again, we found a visiting French scholar doing post-doctorate research at UC Santa Barbara. All I can say is, if you can find academics to rent your house, they make great tenants.

5. The value of good advice. We have never been “guided tour” people, who call a travel agent and let them plan everything. We did that once, in Egypt, and it made a lot of sense. But for our sabbatical, we did 95% of the planning, arrangements, etc. ourselves. This is harder in some regions than others. Traveling solo in China can be very difficult. Fortunately, for some destinations, particularly India, we benefited from some really solid, trustworthy advice and help both inside and outside the host country.

6. Other details. There were a thousand and one other things to plan and do before we left. These included: arranging for care for our 2 cats, finding the right luggage to “lug” around for 6 months, buying a small quantity of clothes we didn’t mind washing and wearing over and over, in a variety of different climates (Cambodia was sweltering, while the hills in northern Vietnam got really chilly), getting visas for destinations that required them and getting necessary vaccinations. I also decided to blog about the trip, so I bought a computer and set that up.

There is a lot to think about if you contemplate taking a travel sabbatical. And it’s not for everyone. I recognize that the rough lodging alone might seem worse than work for many, and I’ll confess I try to travel more comfortably now. But I’m enormously proud that we planned and did the trip and grateful to my wife, our families and employers for making it possible. I came across a quote from Mark Twain that my wife used to describe how she felt about taking the time away and traveling to distant lands. It fits nicely here:

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So, throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.”