If you’re a lawyer appearing at my doorstep, and you work in biglaw, there’s a good chance you’re seeking a way out. You don’t know what you want to do next, but the status quo is insupportable. That’s the standard set-up.
If you’re a lawyer appearing at my doorstep and you work in biglaw, we’ll likely talk about the challenges ahead. Trapped in the bathysphere of biglaw, it’s hard to see out let alone get out. You’ve heard rumors about human beings who enjoy their jobs. In your experience, big firm attorneys loathe their chosen profession the way other people breathe air.
If you’re a lawyer appearing at my doorstep, and you work in biglaw, we’ll probably talk about a sideways shuffle I call the “crab-walk.” You can’t transfer from a big law firm directly to a tolerable work environment in one leap – the chasm between biglaw and anywhere anyone would want to be is too great. Crab-walking is the next best thing, based on the indisputable principle that a tiny step in the direction of somewhere else amounts to an improvement. Take a reduced schedule at your current firm (if such a thing exists in theory or practice.) Give a “kinder, gentler” mid-law shop a shake. Go in-house at a bank. Dial for dollars as a headhunter. Switch to consulting and live in a hotel in Indianapolis all week writing reports recommending the firing of middle managers. Get a sales and support position at WestLaw teaching summers to concoct search terms. Small crab-walk-y steps remove you one centimeter at a time from where you are right now. That, by definition, is good.
If you’re a lawyer appearing at my doorstep and you work in biglaw, you probably want out, and have since your first taste of the Kool-Aid. You need to hear you’re not crazy or alone, and that there are others who long for a job without constant anxiety attacks, where Sunday nights aren’t a horror show, where a partner won’t tell you without a trace of irony to “go ahead and take the weekend off,” where it isn’t considered an easy night to get home at 11 pm.
These generalities hold true for about 96% of the lawyers appearing at my doorstep who work in biglaw. They do not, however, apply to everyone.
I don’t want to exaggerate the phenomenon, but there are folks who actually “fit in” in biglaw. They actually like it there. These are the “odd ducks,” and from time to time some of them also appear at my door.
Odd ducks are a rare breed, because the vast majority of biglaw attorneys are miserable. My client population likely self-selects for career dissatisfaction – although I suspect the effect is less prominent that is often assumed. Whatever the case may be, I’ve worked with hundreds of miserable biglaw lawyers – and they, in turn, have brought me abundant tales of many more. I also receive mail from miserable biglaw lawyers who read this column – and, let’s not forget I was a miserable lawyer myself once, lost in the umbrous recesses of Sullivan & Cromwell, and I’ve stayed in touch with many similarly miserable former colleagues from that world. Judging from all available evidence, it’s fair to conclude the vast majority of biglaw lawyers hate it and willingly report that their colleagues hate it, too. This is not a conspiracy to disrespect biglaw – the situation is real, and it is ghastly enough without over-statement.
It is not, however, the complete picture. That’s because of the odd ducks.
For the most part, odd ducks lay low. There’s a taboo surrounding their status, which makes sense, as it seems rude, on the face of it, in a world populated by legions of wretchedly unhappy lawyers, to trumpet your own contentment. The least you can do is pretend to be as miserable as everyone else. That’s why, if you suspect you might be an odd duck, there’s a strong impulse to keep your outlandish proclivities to yourself.
That means, if you’re an odd duck and appear at my doorstep, you’ll rarely identify yourself as such at the onset of our work. It’s simpler to say as little about your job as possible, with the implication that you feel the same way everyone else does.
The dead giveaway of un canard bizarre arrives when you admit to receiving consistent good reviews. That’s almost embarrassing, because no one gets consistent good reviews in biglaw. Then it leaks out you aren’t really miserable. The hours aren’t that big a deal. You kind of get along with the partner. You kind of love the money.
It’s no surprise odd ducks are the ones who make it to the top in biglaw – who else would? What’s stranger is that, from dizzying heights of power, odd ducks still hesitate to declare themselves.
I worked with a managing partner of a biglaw outfit who earned millions of dollars a year, but we spent our first few weeks talking about how his job was killing him. That was because he seldom got home before 11 pm, and often had to bring work home on the weekends. His wife, who didn’t work, beat him up for never being around for the kids. If he would only stop being so selfish and money-obsessed and quit his horrible job – this was the accepted wisdom – the family could be happy.
It took me a while to realize what was going on – that I was dealing with an odd duck.
“What if,” I hazarded one evening in the course of a session, “you were able to take pride in the fact that you’ve risen to the top of your field? What if your wife acknowledged that it took a lot of hard work to get where you are – a respected authority in your area, speaking to entire conferences as an expert? What if she were to acknowledge that the apartment in the city and the home in the country and the two expensive automobiles and the frequent luxury vacations and her ability to stay home and not have a job are also the fruit of your hard work and success?”
He stared, agape. But it was true. He was always home by 11 pm, latest, never went to the office on weekends, and took regular posh vacations with the family. Those were luxuries he’d earned as a managing partner. It was an intense job, but by this point he’d gained a level of control over his own hours.
“But running this law firm is killing me, and it takes a terrible toll on the family.”
That sounded a bit tentative.
“Are those really your words? And is it really killing you? Isn’t that a bit strong? Don’t you spend nearly every weekend and some evenings home with your family? And isn’t it possible that this job is also something you find satisfying and which brings enormous benefits as well as sacrifices?”
He looked stunned. I’d enunciated the unthinkable. He’d been outed. I kept going.
“Isn’t it possible some people have a right to choose to work hard and make sacrifices for their careers? What if you were a writer, or a scientist or a diplomat, and worked long hours? Would you get torn into in the same way, blamed for your dedication to what you do?”
He acknowledged my point.
This man was a classic odd duck. He might not be skipping and dancing to the office each morning, but deep down, the trade-offs of biglaw seem worth it to him. He maybe even sort of likes it.
Not all odd ducks are top partners. I worked recently with a biglaw senior associate who didn’t seem like an odd duck at first sight, but the more we traded experiences about the terrible hours and the cruelties of biglaw, the more something didn’t feel right. So I took the plunge and posed the forbidden question: For him, at least, was the status quo was really so terrible?
He looked shocked.
“Well, this is biglaw. I mean, all my friends at the large firms are miserable. Of the four of us who were close in law school, three have already left the profession and are either unemployed or doing something else. They all say they could never go back.”
“Yeah – but you’re a different person.”
A wave of relief washed over his features.
“I guess. But it seems weird, and arbitrary, doesn’t it? Why would I do better than everyone else?”
“Maybe it is weird and arbitrary. But you have a right to be different. Maybe you’re one of those rare birds who actually thrives in biglaw.”
To judge from his face, this was the first time in his life he’d felt understood.
After working with a few odd ducks, I’ve begun to note distinguishing features:
First – the true odd ducks are good at law – not just theoretical law as taught in law schools, but day to day actual law as actually practiced by big law firms. I’ve never met an odd duck who didn’t get good reviews. That’s an extremely rare thing in biglaw, where dismantling associate self-confidence and consigning their self-esteem to the flames of oblivion is an accepted norm. Yet odd ducks invariably receive good reviews, in part because…
Second – they’re actually cut out for this work. They like it. It’s not about being fascinated by Constitutional Law or wanting to defend civil rights (because that’s not what real lawyers do). It’s more mundane than that – and to be candid, dorky and nerdy. Odd ducks have the special knack that permits someone to sit up all night reviewing a purchase agreement and grow absorbed by the provisions of an indemnity clause. Or they relish the combat of litigation – that world of motions and discovery and settlement agreements and rushing to make deadlines and faking out your opponent with an unexpected dirty trick. They honestly find civ pro fascinating. It’s even, well, fun for them, the same way some people savor a game of Dungeons & Dragons or a long discussion of baseball statistics. Some odd ducks are simply low key, capable attorneys with a knack for winning clients and bringing in business. One way or another, they possess key real-life lawyering skills, and that means…
Third – they fit in with the partners, who can quickly spot a kindred spirit. Partners need associates who are good at the work and fit in and just…do it. No drama. When they find one of these rare creatures, they take them under their wing. The shelter afforded by a partner’s wing may spare you the worst of the crazy work hours and sudden surprises commonly delivered at 6 pm on Friday evenings.
Before I continue, I want to clarify that I am not giving advice here. This is not a column about “how to succeed in biglaw” or “how to make biglaw work for you” or – god forbid – “how to be a happy lawyer.” In my experience, any advice along the lines of “how to succeed in a career in which you don’t belong” broadcasts its uselessness long before the first platitude plops earthward with a fetid plash.
I can’t make you an odd duck: Odd ducks are born, not trained. This is the realm of nature, not nurture. You’re either cut out for biglaw, or you’re not. The vast majority of people who pursue law and end up at big firms have no business attempting to survive there. That’s why the bulk of any class of biglaw associates lasts no more than two years prior to complete mastication and subsequent expectoration, eructation or regurgitation.
But some stick it out and some even like it, which, when you stop to think about it, is pretty much why biglaw still exists. Someone has to belong there, even if those someones are few and far between and perhaps a bit…odd.
As another odd duck client confessed to me recently: “I don’t know why, but I guess I’m just okay with it. They seem to appreciate me. They give me good reviews. One partner admitted he didn’t want to use another associate on his projects – he needed my work because he had confidence in my abilities. That felt nice.”
“So why do I sense you hesitating to admit it?” I asked.
He looked thoughtful. “Because everyone else hates that place – and I don’t always love it either. The hours are brutal. But I enjoy litigation and the money’s great and I guess I’m just okay with it. I sleep at night. I don’t mind going in. It’s just, well, work for me.”
That’s what it’s come to. Biglaw is so universally detested that the few people for whom it’s a fit are ashamed to admit it. But the fact remains: Some people do fine in even the scariest biglaw firms – and they have a right to.
Before I start sounding too Pollyannaish, let me remind you that life as an odd duck is not all unicorns and rainbows. The oddest of odd ducks wishes he had more time for himself – and experiences bad days, or bad weeks, or bad months at the office. Or his firm implodes and he finds himself facing a brutal job hunt. Being made partner doesn’t guarantee permanent odd duck status, either. You might crack under the pressure of bringing in more clients and billables, or wind up working under a sadistic senior rainmaker. Plenty of people who think they’re odd ducks as associates wind up discovering they only like “doing” law, not marketing and bringing in clients, and there’s little room for service partners in today’s biglaw. Being pushed out of a firm, or stuck as a permanent senior associate with no hope of ascending, might discourage even the pluckiest waterfowl.
There are two final points I want to make about odd ducks. First of all, if you really are an odd duck, it’s okay to come out from hiding. I know you’re out there. You can stop apologizing. You’re allowed to admit you’re doing okay – and that biglaw works for you. Just because it nearly killed me – and has damaged the lives of tens of thousands of others – doesn’t mean there’s no room for a few odd ducks in even the most chthonic habitat. Enjoying something everyone else seems to despise is what being an odd duck is all about.
My second point is more relevant to the average reader of this column: Please don’t assume you’re an odd duck, or that biglaw is going to be your particular cup of tea. The overwhelming odds are that it won’t – and that biglaw will be a disaster for both your financial and mental health.
Odd ducks are a rare breed by definition, just like natural-born lawyers. The fact that this country is up to its ears in people calling themselves “attorneys” can be explained by so many regular ducks assuming they’re odd – or that they can get away with pretending to be.
We can all agree it requires a singular vocation to become a dentist. For that reason, my dentist friends are, in their own way, odd ducks. But imagine a world in which everyone assumed they were somehow put on this Earth to be a dentist. Imagine the dental schools playing along, telling anyone who will listen that they can attend a few lectures, “learn to think like a dentist” – et voila! – open wider and turn towards me…
You’d end up with a lot of unhappy non-dentists wondering why they can’t relax and enjoy performing root canals.
That’s what’s happening in law.
If you can’t think of anything else to do, don’t take it for granted you’re a biglaw lawyer, because working at a big law firm sure as hell isn’t for everyone. Real biglaw lawyers – true, honest to god biglaw lawyers who were put on this Earth to practice at megafirms – are some very odd ducks indeed.
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This piece is part of a series of columns presented by The People’s Therapist in cooperation with AboveTheLaw.com. My thanks to ATL for their help with the creation of this series.
My new book is a comic novel about a psychotherapist who falls in love with a blue alien from outer space. It’s called Bad Therapist: A Romance
If you enjoy these columns, please check out The People’s Therapist’s book about the sad state of the legal profession, Way Worse Than Being a Dentist: The Lawyer’s Quest for Meaning
My first book is an unusual (and useful) introduction to the concepts underlying psychotherapy: Life is a Brief Opportunity for Joy
(My books are also available on bn.com and the Apple iBookstore.)
The People's Therapist 
I have a hard time with ATL sometimes – but I love your post.
This post expresses something I’ve thought about a lot – it’s not that law is so much worse than every other specialist career, it’s that it looks deceptively accessible and glamorous and as a result, attracts a lot of people who don’t belong in it. If you’re not cut out to be an chemical engineer, you’ll probably know that long before you make any serious investment in carving that path through life. As a result, even though chemical engineers’ work would be traumatizing for most people, most people who aren’t cut out for that work know to stay away. It’s very easy, by contrast to come away with the impression that book smarts, straight-As, and writing skills will make you a happy and successful lawyer – and those are not enough. Law is not professional philosophy, civil rights activism with a big paycheck, or academia by other means. It’s a technical trade, and like any other technical trade, only a relatively small segment of the population will enjoy it. If LSAT enrollment drops are any indication, people may just now be coming around to understanding that.
Great post. The best I’ve read on this site, probably ever.
I agree completely that many incoming lawyers–maybe even most–are not “cut out” for biglaw, simply because the hours and hierarchy are indeed (and sometimes unnecessarily) grueling. But just the fact that you use the term “odd duck” to describe people who actually like their biglaw jobs underscores a trend that I’ve seen among fellow biglaw associates who enter these jobs expecting to be miserable, don’t take steps to make those jobs more manageable or pleasant for themselves, and then take a sort of masochistic pride in their misery.
I am what you would call an odd duck associate, and maybe that is, as you say, my nature. But I also went into this job knowing that the hours would be very tough (as reflected by the compensation) and made a conscious effort to make things as enjoyable for myself as possible. For example, although I often have work to do on weekends, I do not come into the office when I don’t have to simply because I’m afraid of what people will think of me for working from home. Yes, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to ask a partner if he minds my working remotely or if I can complete a task the next day so that I can attend a family event. Yes, I risk not being in my office to answer an unexpected 9 PM phone call, knowing that I can be reached on my cell phone if necessary. I know many associates who are so afraid to ask these questions or take these risks that they’d rather sacrifice what little freedom they have than reveal to their firms that they have a life outside of work. Instead of trying to carve out some balance in biglaw, they simply submit to the self-fulfilling prophecy that biglaw associates are supposed to be miserable. Make no mistake, this is a job–and a really difficult one at that. It’s not impossible to make it work, even as an associate, but you have to actively look out for your own well being in the process because no one’s going to do it for you.
Your post is a perfect summary of 98% of the associates’ mindset – “I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to ask a partner is he minds my working remotely…” Do the terms pride or perspective mean anything to you? You’re a terrible coward who’s biggest fear in life is that ma and pa and your friends in Manhattan might for a second think that you’re not getting straight A’s and not doing what you’re expected to be doing. For a lack of better terms, it’s disgusting and frankly pathetic. Please don’t congratulate yourself too much on being a rebel for having to ask to be treated like a human being 10% of the time or so.
I think you missed my point. I’m not a rebel in any way, shape, or form. I just know that this job will get to me if I don’t set my own boundaries, so I try to do that as best I can. It’s not a matter of self-congratulation. It’s just self-preservation. I know that I couldn’t do this job if it meant never eating dinner at home, never seeing friends and family, never [fill in the blank with whatever is important to you]. There’s no getting around the fact that working as a biglaw associate means working hard and not being your own boss. But I am treated like a human being 100% of the time, and that’s why it’s doable. Many people don’t seem to expect even that.
@L – you are so blind that you cannot even see the flaw in your introspection. You are not just an odd duck you are also 100% intoxicated with the kool-aid. “NEVER having dinner at home” “NEVER seeing your family” there is no big law job where that would be true. It is a matter of balance. In the last billable year did you spend more weekends working than not working. Did you have more dinners at home or in the office? And more importantly, regardless of your answer to those questions, was it worth it? I think that it is you who missed the point of the post. You are an odd duck and your comment sounds like you are not able to accept that and you are rationalizing the bad to try to convince the world not to view you as one just because you cannot admit that the bad aspects of big law are worth it to you. [Myself – I’ve been almost 10 years in practice but on my way out. 4 of those at two major big laws ranked in the top ten. 5 at a boutique. The only difference is the size of the beast. Odd ducks are also the blood of a boutique. The interesting thing though is that while odd ducks are the minority, it is the regular ducks who are treated like, and made feel as we are the, “weirdos”]
Of the 6 associates in my practice group in my class year at my biglaw firm, 1 hates it. Three really like it and two are neither miserable nor ecstatic.
The “odd duck” described above isn’t so odd.
It really all depends on the firm and the practice group. I’ve heard horror stories that took place at other firms, but have never had anything close to those happen at my firm.
I have never come across a partner who wasn’t nice and aware that associates have lives outside of the office. I’ve had partners work hard to make sure I could go on a previously-scheduled vacation even though it came at a very inconvenient time in the case/action (I’ve never had to cancel a vacation, but I recognize this is a service industry, and sometimes client needs have to come first).
I work hard, but I also get paid 6 figures and a nice bonus. I do some monotonous work, but I also do some really interesting work.
It’s a job. I don’t love it, but that’s why they pay me to do it.
[…] Quiet Room PsychotherapyCorporate law is known for crushing young lawyers’ souls, but one lawyer-turned-therapist says there’s a breed of professional who actually thrive in […]
[…] just bearable, for longer than say, three years. Of course, you can point to Meyerhofer’s Odd Ducks, who thrive in the current state of BigLaw, but I’m talking about the army of associates […]
Excellent article. Also very good for vocabulary development. Umbrous… chthonic… plash… eructation. (Am I the only one who didn’t know what those words meant?)
[…] are folks who actually ‘fit in’ in BigLaw,” writes Will Meyerhofer, a psychotherapist and former BigLaw lawyer. “They actually like it there.” Meyerhofer calls […]
Great post Will. It’s notable how odd-ducks commenting here may need some one-on-one session of personalized “what ifs” like your odd-duck patients had so that they can finally realize that it is ok to be an odd duck and accept the fact they are one.
[…] like BigLaw practice. “I don’t want to exaggerate the phenomenon,” Meyerhofer writes at the People’s Therapist, “but there are folks who actually ‘fit in’ in BigLaw. They actually like it there. These are […]
Nice post.
I was a former client, and frankly, the only thing this article made me realize is how right I was to stop seeing Will as a psychotherapist. Sessions that I thought were actually about me, were clearly just Will’s canned aphorisms. “Crab-walk” must be what he tells everyone trying to get out.
I guess I’d ask you first, to spell my last name correctly – seems odd, if you really are a former client, that you’d make that mistake. Meyerhofer, with one “f”. Secondly, I do tell everyone about the “crab-walk” – or have for the past year or so, since I thought of that particular metaphor for the crooked path people take when they plan to leave law and move to another career. Sorry – seems like a nice image for what I’m describing. What makes me doubt that you really are a former client is that you don’t seem to realize, that I, as your therapist, would always welcome your anger directly towards me and encourage you to come in – for free, if that’s what it takes – and put that anger into words, rather than acting out on unexamined feelings by posting something like this on my blog. It’s strange, too, that you would choose to post this sort of attacking comment on the piece titled “Odd Ducks,” which is about the lawyers who are happy doing what they’re doing in the world of biglaw. This is one of my rare posts about happy lawyers. In any case, if you actually ever saw me as a therapist, rest assured, your sessions were about you.
This really rings true to me. I’m a senior associate at biglaw and I guess I’m an odd duck. I love securities law. I love going through the rules, I love drafting prospectuses that no one will read, I love comparing underwriting agreements against one another to find the best market-out clauses. But as I move up the ranks, I find the pressure of marketing and bringing my own clients mounting, and I’m not sure how much longer I’d be allowed to continue doing what I do.