I was practicing law at a top 100 law firm in the New York City area when my firm recruiter asked me to interview a Harvard law student for a summer associate position.  Sitting across from me, the young man reminded me of my prior self.  Prestigious law school.  Moot court success.  Law journal.  Published.  Volunteered.  Traveled the world.  Spoke Spanish.  I looked up from my desk.  My gray desk.  Surrounded by gray shelves and gray walls.  He was sitting in a gray chair.  He ever so slightly began slumping back.  Why?  He had just heard my response to his question, “What is life like here at the firm?”

I’m not sure why, perhaps it was the recent evening where I stayed up all night reordering the exhibits in a corrupt MS Word document, maybe it was the last equity partner tirade I’d been on the wrong end of.  Most likely it was the promising in-house counsel position I was interviewing for, but I decided to be completely candid with the young man (for our purposes, let’s call him “Bob“).

John Grisham recently said “life in big firms has deteriorated to the point where they’re filled with very unhappy lawyers.”  And he couldn’t be more right.  I explained to this earnest student that there are great opportunities at law firms.  You can make a very nice salary, bonuses are excellent (in good times), and free gourmet restaurant dinner delivery plus a town card ride home are pretty cushy.  That said, there’s a reason why salaries are high.  You need the money to pay off your astronomical student loans.  The high salaries also convince you to put up with having dinner with your Dell laptop instead of family and friends.  You also may be a bit crestfallen to see the tremendous gross profit on associates such as yourself (the hourly rates are so high that you actually wouldn’t be able to afford to hire yourself).  Equity partners, the ones who command a big roster of clients that pay even bigger bills, rule the roost.  If they want to behave in a despicable manner, such as, for instance, throwing a stapler at the head of a secretary, cursing out an associate, or commanding a paralegal to write a memo on where to find the best sushi, they can do so.

Pro bono work?  Some firms are better than others, but the amount of engaging work you could do helping poor people or nonprofits was definitely limited by how bad you wanted a large bonus or to make partner someday.  For the most part, firms do not see substantial pro bono work as making you partner material, no matter what their brochures say.  Children?  Well, the divorce rate is through the roof for lawyers, which generally is not ideal for kids, though you do have a good chance of meeting your next spouse at work since this is where you will be spending most of your time.  You might want to send your kids to boarding school, or hire a team of nannies (one equity partner I knew worked until her water broke, and was back at work the day after she gave birth; she said she didn’t know what she would do without her 3 nannies).

The blood drained out of Bob’s face.  He asked me if I was serious.  I said I was.  He asked me what time I leave at the end of the day.  I said on a really great, fantastic day, I left at 9pm (somehow others did much better, trademark prosecutors often left before 7pm, amazing!).  He asked me if it was better anywhere else.  I said yes, but he probably wouldn’t be making anywhere near as much money (which, when you are in your mid-20s and have $150,000 of debt, is not what you want to hear).

I did mention that he could become a corporate in-house lawyer and have much better hours, or pay off his loans in Big Law and then jump to a government job/not for profit/small firm lifestyle.  I noted that he could pick up some strong skills in our corporate department, along with not a small amount of resume prestige, which would serve him well in his career.  But nothing I added could pick up his mood.  Eventually, he wriggled up in his chair, looked me dead in the eye, and thanked me for my candor, saying that I was the first person he’d met in his many interviews who seemed to be completely honest with him.  Then he walked out the door.

What does this tremendous unhappiness mean?  After all, it extends far.  Clients are notoriously upset with the Big Law world.  Wal-Mart even froze rate hikes not too long ago.  Larry Ribstein thinks that people need to wake up and realize that law is not a profession but a business.  He even thinks Big Law is dead.  But it’s not.  Sure, right now there are some major law firms failing.  And many others are paring the ranks, freezing salaries and skipping bonuses.  But, at the end of the day, there will still be big lawsuits and big deals.  And big companies will demand the highly responsive, constantly accessible, pristine service that Big Law is known for.  Major law firms are struggling just like companies in other industries are struggling.  Even though The Sharper Image went bankrupt, people will still buy gadgets.  The same is true for lawyers.  And almost all professions are businesses.  Saying you have to be one or the other is a false dichotomy.  We are a profession, and we have a higher purpose over and above the needs of our clients, which is to ensure that through honesty, fair dealing and transparency, we create enforceable contracts and support the smooth functioning of society.

However, the longer the current recession lasts, the more likely it is that small firm lawyers will lead the way with new methods to provide legal services at affordable rates that fit in client budgets.  This is a point made by Carolyn Elefant at myshingle.com, and exemplified by lawyers such as Jay Shepherd who provides up front flat fee prices.

So the Bobs of the world will still have the opportunity, if they choose, to walk down the dark path of Big Law, but they hopefully will have more compelling alternatives in the future as well.

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