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A WORD FROM THE RODENT

An Associate's Work is Never Done

It begins like any other day at The Firm.

You go to the office expecting to put in the usual 12 hours.
This day is special, however, because you have taken the risk of
making plans for doing something after work.

Perhaps you made arrangements to get together with a friend whom
you haven't seen since you started working at The Firm, or you
may have promised your spouse you'll be home in time for
dinner_for the first time this fiscal year.

The morning goes smoothly. At noon, you have the usual deli
sandwich at your desk while reviewing documents. All seems well
through midafternoon until suddenly, and without warning, a
partner appears and drops an armload of documents on your desk.

By the anxious look on her face, you know what the partner has
just given you. It is the emergency du jour_an assignment that
must be completed immediately.

As the partner explains what needs to be done, you glance at the
documents and notice that the cover letter from the client is
dated more than a month ago. The reason this project is an
emergency is because it sat on the partner's desk for weeks.

Be this as it may, you are an associate. She is a partner. You
cheerfully accept the assignment.

You spend the next few hours working as fast as you can. At 6
p.m., your secretary stops by to ask if you need her to stay
late. By this time, you feel as if you have everything under
control so you tell your secretary she can go home.

Two minutes later, the telephone rings. You hesitate before
answering because you fear it may be more work on the other end
of the line. But you notice the call is coming from outside The
Firm and decide it's safe to pick up.

You are wrong. On the phone is another partner, calling from his
car. He tells you he has a conference call with a client
scheduled for first thing in the morning and needs a few issues
researched.

Although this is an area of the law you know nothing about, the
partner says you are the only lawyer in the office who can
handle it.

After you translate this partnerese into English, you wonder how
many other associates the partner tried calling before he found
you.

From force of habit, you promise to have a memorandum on the
partner's desk by nine the next morning. You then ask the
partner where he can be reached later in the evening in case you
have any questions. He says he is going to be "out of pocket
tonight_got The Firm's tickets to the ballgame."

You now have to make the phone call -- a call you've made many
times before -- to cancel your plans for tonight.

Before you can articulate what you think is a pretty good
excuse, you listen to how the person on the other end of the
line no longer wants to be your friend, lover, or spouse.

The Firm, you are told, has become all these things to you. You
are then accused of having no time for anything or anyone else.

You strenuously object to these allegations and start to defend
yourself, but then realize valuable time is ticking away. You
cut the conversation short and promise to continue it next week
when you aren't so swamped with work.

That little detail out of the way, you get on to the assignment.
You work almost non-stop for the next several hours. You do,
however, take a few short breaks to chat with members of the
cleaning crew, rummage through a few other lawyers' offices, and
make a couple of international calls on your hated rival's
telephone.

At about 5 a.m., you start having trouble reading. You are so
tired you can no longer see straight. Attempting to analyze some
of the issues, you discover you are also unable to think
straight.

You accept the fact that you need some sleep. But instead of
making your way to the conference room couch, you simply lean
forward in your chair and lay your head on your desk.

When you wake up an hour later, your eyesight and thinking are
clearer, but sleeping at your desk has caused your neck and back
to stiffen. Now you can't walk straight.

As others start to report to work, you can't help but notice
they are staring at you. At first you think this might be
because you are unwashed and wearing the same clothes you had on
yesterday.

At other places of work, such conditions are signs that one may
have engaged in a sexual adventure and ended up sleeping at
someone else's place.

At The Firm, however, being unwashed and in the same clothes are
indicators that you pulled an all-nighter -- badges of courage to
be proudly worn.

Later on, you figure out why everyone has been staring at you.
Imbedded in your forehead is a paper clip you picked up while
sleeping at your desk.

At exactly 9 a.m., you go to the partner's office and hand him
the memorandum. He tells you to sit down while he calls the
client on the speakerphone. Then, with great skill, the partner
reads your memo verbatim to the client as if he is speaking from
his own personal knowledge of the law.

After the substantive part of the phone call is completed, the
partner looks at you and flicks the fingers of one hand in your
direction. This is his way of telling you to leave. As you stand
up, pain shoots through your back, but because you don't want
the client to hear you wail, you bite your lip.

As you hobble out of the office and down the hallway with blood
dripping from your lip, you hear the client over the
speakerphone thanking the partner for all his good work. The
client then apologizes for the assignment's short fuse.

The partner responds, "It was no trouble, no trouble at all. I
had nothing else to do last night."



Readers interested in sharing information about their firm or in
suggesting topics for the column may write to The Rodent in care
of Legal Times, 1730 M St., N.W., Suite 802, Washington, D.C.
20036. Readers interested in obtaining The Rodent newsletter may
call [phone] or write to 2531 Sawtelle Blvd., No. 30, Los
Angeles, Calif. 90064. Readers may also reach The Rodent over
the Internet at [e-mail].

A WORD FROM THE RODENT
Dealing with the Frictions of Factions


To clients, people in the office for job interviews and other
outsiders, The Firm appears to be a cohesive collection of
attorneys working together as a team to achieve a common goal.
The reality of law firms, however, is quite different.

All firms with more than a handful of lawyers are factionalized
to some degree. The very nature of partnerships-and of
lawyers-demands it. The Firm may, in fact, be less of a
partnership than a collection of different groups of lawyers and
sole practitioners.

Attorneys practicing law under the same roof may be partners
only in name and financial relationship. Often, law firms are
very far from the ideal of a partnership; there may even be open
hostility between different groups of lawyers. This particular
situation leads to the formation of firm factions.

This is not to say that Messrs. Skadden and Arps, Jones and Day,
O'Melveny and Myers, or Baker and McKenzie were archenemies who
represented factions within their respective firms. Then again,
it would be no huge surprise to learn that they were.

Like many other people in relationships, lawyers don't really
know each other until they start working together. So while the
name of The Firm reflects those lawyers who at one time thought
it would be a good idea to practice law together, after trying
to work together for a number of years these names may well
represent the different factions within the Firm.

Faction membership is a critical consideration for attorneys at
The Firm. First of all, factionalism requires a huge commitment
of time. Lawyers can expect to devote between 20 percent and 30
percent of their time to factional activities, including
plotting against, and spreading vicious rumors about, members of
rival factions.

Faction membership also determines with whom Firm lawyers may
socialize and where they may do so. Around town, each faction
has its designated lunch spots and watering holes that are
off-limits to members of rival factions.

Because factions play such an important role in law firm life,
lawyers who are new to The Firm should learn how to identify and
evaluate the various factions before joining one of them.

Divisions between lawyers at The Firm typically form along the
following lines:

Practice groups: The clearest division at The Firm is usually
between litigators and corporate attorneys. Litigators don't
consider corporate attorneys to be real lawyers, while corporate
attorneys think litigators are uncivilized beings who should be
kept away from clients except in case of emergency.

In Washington, D.C., it's the so-called real lawyers vs. the
lobbyist-lawyers. The real lawyers complain about their
colleagues collecting for campaign contributions and spending
firm money on wining and dining lawmakers. The lobbyist-lawyers
question why the firm spends so much on F.3d for the library.

And neither group seems to think very highly of lawyers in the
estate-planning practice group.

Profitability: Some attorneys are more profitable to The Firm
than others. As a result, more productive partners tend to gang
up against The Firm's deadwood to try to force them out of the
partnership or reduce their compensation.

New alliances form along these lines whenever there is a change
in the legal market. This is because changes in the market can
suddenly alter the bottom line of the most profitable attorneys,
taking them to the other end of the list.

This is, of course, an exaggeration: When it comes to
profitability, members of the estate-planning practice group are
perennially at the bottom-even lower than the clerks who work in
The Firm's copy center.

Personality: Lawyers often simply dislike each other, and they
express these feelings by fighting over associates and staff,
sabotaging each other's careers and reporting each other to the
state bar. The most intense personality differences are usually
found in the subfactions formed within individual practice
groups.

Subfactions based on personality conflicts never occur in the
estate-planning practice group, where everyone seems to get
along just fine.

Pre-merger allegiances: It has become common for law firms to
merge with other firms. More often than not, such mergers cause
clashes of law firm cultures. Alliances are formed along the
lines of the pre-merger firms, and the resulting factions do
battle with each other.

Years after the merger is completed, lawyers will continue to
identify each other by their pre-merger firm name. This helps to
identify individuals as friend or foe.

No one, however, can remember where the estate-planning practice
group came from.

Seniority: In the good old days, law firms had compensation
schemes based largely on seniority. More recently, however,
younger partners have developed new formulas to distribute The
Firm's revenues based on the productivity of individual lawyers.

This has created resentment among members of the old guard who
aren't getting paid as much as they'd expected for sitting
around doing nothing. They also feel they should be
well-compensated for constituting the primary client base of the
estate-planning practice group.

Force of habit: The origins of certain factions go all the way
back to the time when individual faction leaders were junior
associates.

As young lawyers at The Firm, the current faction leaders
developed rivalries among themselves that have not only
survived, but also become more intense over the years.

Such hard feelings are transferred to other faction members and
passed down from generation to generation of lawyers.

Some attorneys have tried to stay above the fray by not joining
a faction. This always proves futile, however, because it's
faction membership that gives lawyers their identity at The
Firm.

Factionless lawyers are often mistaken for a client or a
representative from Xerox who's in the office to fix the copying
machines.

Worse yet, a lawyer who fails to join a faction may be mistaken
for a member of the estate-planning practice group.

"A Word from the Rodent" appears monthly in Texas Lawyer.
Readers interested in sharing information about their firm and
practice or in suggesting topics for this column may write to
The Rodent in care of Texas Lawyer, 400 S. Record St., Suite
1400, Dallas, TX 75202-4889.

A WORD FROM THE RODENT


A fact of modern legal life is that law firms are not perpetual
institutions. Like lawyers themselves, firms now come and go. In
today's market, law firms dissolve, merge with other firms,
reorganize and declare bankruptcy.

According to The New York Times, more than a dozen New York City
firms ranging from 30 to 250 lawyers have folded, merged or been
acquired by other firms in the last four years.

Last year alone, New York's 230-lawyer Shea & Gould dissolved,
as did the city's oldest law firm, Lord, Day & Lord, Barrett
Smith, and the 191-lawyer Bower & Gardner. Legal Times reported
that in the last 12 months, six firms' Washington, D.C., branch
offices shut down. Johnson & Wortley, one of the oldest firms in
Dallas, has just disbanded.

Across the country, many other firms have suffered similar
fates, while still more have experienced financial difficulties
threatening their survival.

The precarious position many law firms find themselves in has
added even more anxiety to the lives of associates. This
situation has also made the ability to anticipate the demise of
one's law firm an extremely valuable legal skill.

Much like other disasters, the collapse of a law firm is often
very difficult to predict. While partners are privy to The
Firm's books and well positioned to prepare for the end, they
tend to leave associates in the dark about the financial health
of The Firm. Not only that, but partners will also frequently
make assurances that all is well, even when this is far from the
case. Such pronouncements are aimed primarily at keeping clients
and associates from going elsewhere -- in other words, to keep
clients and associates from doing exactly what they should be
doing.

Because it is unlikely that partners will tip their hand about
the uncertain state of The Firm, associates must look for
indicators in and around The Firm that the end may be near. Some
indicators that The Firm isn't doing well, such as skipped
partnership draws and the departure of certain power partners,
are hard to miss. Other indicators are even more obvious.

The biggest law firm ever to go out of business -- Finley Kumble
Wagner Heine Underberg Manley Myerson & Casey -- provides a good
example. One luckless Finley Kumble lawyer found out about the
closure of the firm's branch office when he showed up for work
on a Monday morning. To his great surprise, all the office
furnishings, including his desk and client files, had been
removed from the premises.

But most warning signs are far more subtle. Associates must
therefore be alert at all times to detect signals that the party
is almost over and it's time to call a headhunter.

Associates are advised to be on the lookout for one or more of
the following:

* The partners put out a press release dismissing rumors that
The Firm is having financial difficulty. While this sort of
press release will proclaim that everything is wonderful, it is
often an act of desperation to discount information about The
Firm's finances that has been leaked to outsiders. Astute
associates able to read between the lines can discern that the
rumors are true and The Firm's collapse is imminent.

* The Firm has a huge payroll, a peak-of-the-market office lease
and no clients. This deadly combination has spelled the end of
many law firms in recent years.

* The Firm has a huge payroll, a peak-of-the-market office
lease, no clients, and merges with another firm that has a huge
payroll, a peak-of-the-market office lease and no clients. One
struggling firm plus one struggling firm equals one large
struggling firm. The merger may postpone the inevitable for six
months or so, but not much longer.

* Strange behavior among partners. I don't mean the usual
strange partner behavior. I mean really strange behavior -- even
for partners. One telltale sign The Firm is on its last legs is
when client files begin to disappear. This is usually the result
of partners in the know preparing to take clients with them when
The Firm dissolves.

* Another indicator is the way partners give associates work
assignments. Under normal circumstances, partners use words such
as "urgent," "right away" "ASAP," "rush," "emergency" and
"immediately" to explain when they want projects completed.
Associates should worry if, for the first time ever, they hear a
partner tell them to do the work "whenever you get around to
it." This is a sure sign The Firm won't be in business long
enough to complete the project.

The Rodent lived through the collapse of the branch office of a
major firm. Although many of us in the associate ranks knew
there were problems, we didn't realize just how serious the
situation was. That all changed when we read the writing on the
wall -- literally. The writing on the wall was in the form of
posters plastered on the walls of The Firm's file room, copying
center and lunch room.

The posters contained motivational messages such as: "Success is
a journey, not a destination" and "It's amazing how much can be
accomplished when no one cares who gets the credit."

These motivational posters signaled the end for us. A law firm
simply cannot recover from something like that. All they
motivated us to do was to find new jobs elsewhere. A few months
after the posters went up, the firm came down.


A WORD FROM THE RODENT
The Good, the Bad and the 'of Counsel'

Variety of Lawyers Fall into Group That's Somewhere Between
Partner and Associate

"A Word From the Rodent" appears monthly in the Daily Report.
Readers interested in sharing information about their firm and
practice or in suggesting topics for this column may write to
The Rodent in care of Legal Times, 1730 M St. N.W., Suite 802,
Washington, D.C. 20036. Readers interested in obtaining The
Rodent newsletter may call [phone] or write to 2531
Sawtelle Blvd., No. 30, Los Angeles, Calif. 90064. Provided by
American Lawyer News Service.



It's an associate, it's a partner ... it's an of counsel!

Traditionally, those at The Firm known as "of counsel" were
older lawyers seeking to curtail their workloads and escape the
pressures of partnership.

Designating a former partner as "of counsel" has also been a
convenient way for The Firm to avoid the unpleasantnessùand
inevitable lawsuitùresulting from ousting senior lawyers whose
legal skills are in decline. Another advantage of the
traditional of counsel category is that it allows lawyers to
avoid full retirement. In other words, it gives them a place to
spend their time.

This provides critical relief to their spouses, who, over the
previous several decades, had grown accustomed to having their
life companion out of the house and at The Firmù virtually every
waking hour.

The of counsel concept in recent years has been expanded to
include other kinds of lawyers The Firm doesn't know what to do
with.

Nowadays, one doesn't have to be an elderly walking malpractice
case to be of counsel; an of counsel can fall into any of the
following categories:

The Qualified Associate Who Will Never Be Elected Partner. Every
firm has at least one associate who is an exceptional lawyer,
butùlet's face itùjust isn't one of the boys. You know the type:
the first one you turn to if you have a client with a complex
legal problem, but the last one you call to go to lunch or to
offer an extra ticket to the ballgame.

This associate is destined never to be elected to partnership.
Just before the critical vote is taken, a senior partner asks:
"Do we really want this person sharing in our profits and
hanging around at our annual retreat?"

While refusing to promote the associate to their ranks, the
partners nevertheless want to encourage him or her to stay at
The Firm. They therefore offer the associate an of counsel
position and convince him or her that it's really a big
promotion. Even the guys in the mailroom know it's The Firm's
scarlet letter.

After spending a couple of years as an of counsel, the attorney
finally catches on and decides to move to another firm, where he
or she is offered a partnership position.

Clients, who don't care if the attorney isn't one of the boys,
send all their business to the lawyer's new firm. The old firm
begs the former of counsel to come back and, better late than
never, offers a promotion to partnership.

The Former Partner. After making partner by jumping through all
the hoops on the partnership track at one firm, some lawyers
decide to move to a new firm. Because every firm has its own set
of hoops, the new firm might require the lawyer to spend a
number of years as an of counsel before being accepted as a
partner.

But not too long into the term, the lawyer comes to the
conclusion that the new firm is actually worse than the one he
or she left. Eventually, the lawyer crawls back to the old firm,
begging for forgiveness. The former partner is usually taken
back but, as punishment for defecting, is demoted to of counsel.

To the former partner, this process is a humiliating step down.
To partners at The Firm, it's a great deal because they gain the
services of a fully qualified partner for the price of an
associate. Partners also enjoy having another obsequious lawyer
around The Firmùthat is, assuming the of counsel reverts to
acting like an associate.

The Former Politician Who Happens to Have Gone to Law School.
This of counsel type is a former governor or senator looking to
cash in on his or her celebrity.

Despite never having practiced law and perhaps having been
forced to leave elective office under the cloud of a public
scandal, this of counsel is showcased by The Firm to clients and
recruits.

The Firm pays the politician-turned-of-counsel a six- figure
salary to do even less than he or she did while holding public
office. The role of this of counsel is limited to playing golf
with prospective clients and making a few phone calls when one
of the partners or an important client gets arrested for drunken
driving or an embarrassing vice activity.

While having one of these of counsels around can be quite
lucrative for The Firm, other lawyers must constantly be
available to offer protection. New clients lured to The Firm by
the former pol might, unreasonably, expect him or her to have
answers to their legal questions. So the of counsel must always
be flanked by bright and qualified practicing lawyers who can
field questions posed by clients. This allows the of counsel to
tune out during client meetings and think about planning a
political comeback.

After a year or two at The Firm, the of counsel may leave to run
for president, but usually fails to win a single primary.

The Lawyer Anticipating the Firm's Collapse. The 1990s of
counsel model was spawned from the economic difficulties
recently suffered by many firms.

When a law firm dissolves, its partners are typically bogged
down for years in litigation with clients, creditors and each
other. Knowing this, some lawyers prefer the safe haven of no
responsibility that of counsel status provides.

When The Firm does crash, this of counsel simply walks away from
the mess. Some partners, who previously considered the of
counsel to be a second-class lawyer, are now envious. In trying
to escape liability, some will even go so far as to disclaim
their partnerhood and assert that they, too, are of counsel.

A number of these of counsels suddenly appeared during the final
days of Finley, Kumble, Wagner, Underberg, Manley, Myerson &
Casey, the largest law firm ever to go out of business. In his
book Conduct Unbecoming, former managing partner Steven Kumble
writes that he received notices from colleagues stating: "I am
not a partner of this firm. I was never a partner of this firm,
but if I was a partner of this firm, I resign. But my
resignation should not in any way be construed as an indication
that I was a partner. And besides, I have not received my draw
in a long time." Voila! Of counsel!

So in the long run, of counsel status offers a number of
advantages.

Speaking of the long run, John Maynard Keynes said, "In the long
run, we are all dead." Of course, Keynes never worked at The
Firm and didn't know that "old lawyers never die, they just
become of counsel."


A WORD FROM THE RODENT
 Working for Nothing, Filing Suits for Free

Fact: At the beginning of this century, associates in law firms,
then known as "clerks" or "juniors," served as apprentices for
several years, during which time they were paid nothing.

Before reading any further, associates should take a moment to
clean up the coffee they just spit out.

And partners should stop considering the possibility of
reinstating this policy. That was a long time ago, and most of
today's associates would be less than receptive to the idea of
working at The Firm for free.

Although not feasible in the modern legal market, the concept of
associates working without pay does raise some interesting
questions. How, for instance, did recent graduates in those days
provide for the basic necessities of food, shelter, pinstriped
clothing and student-loan payments?

One also wonders what law students back then had to talk about
if there were no salaries to compare.

Today, many people choose the law as a career because they want
to make the world a better place. They enter law school intent
on the idea that, upon graduation, they will go to work for
Legal Aid, a public interest group or the government.

However, upon learning how much money most law firms pay their
associates, these same students quickly come to realize that
their personal worlds would be a whole lot better if they went
to work at The Firm.

Salaries Foster Communication

By the end of the first year of law school, most conversations
among students revolve around who is being offered how much
money and which firms pay the highest starting salaries. At
about the same time, using the legal system to end social
injustice, poverty and pollution just doesn't seem very
important anymore.

Without associate salaries, communication between young lawyers
working at different firms would also be drastically curtailed.
While well-mannered people (i.e., nonlawyers) consider it rude
to inquire about another person's salary, this rule of etiquette
seems to be lost on young lawyers.

It is common, for example, for two associates meeting for the
first time to ask each other immediately what they are earning
at their respective law firms.

Without salaries, many lawyers would be practicing law without
the intense feelings of envy and resentment that come from
knowing others are making more money for doing comparable jobs.
On the other hand, this is what drives many lawyers.

There is one more question that comes to mind when thinking
about law firm life without salaries: What would partners say to
associates to make them feel guilty, ashamed and embarrassed for
their substandard performance? For example, one popular partner
line that would be lost is: "Why do we pay you so much money
when you can't ... (whatever the associate fouled up)."

This and similar expressions would lose their sting. The
associate could simply respond by saying: "I'm just a volunteer
here" or "You don't pay me enough to know how to ...



Come to think of it, working for free might not be so bad. Some
of the other advantages that would come from reviving the old
policy on associate salaries are the following:

* After being away at college and law school for so long, you
will have the opportunity to rebuild your relationship, good or
bad, with the folks (because you'll have to move back in with
them).

* If you are fired, you wouldn't have to restrain yourself in
order to protect your severance pay and references for new jobs.
When the ax falls, you would feel free to say: "You can't fire
me, I quit."

In addition to the personal satisfaction this would bring, it
also obviates the need to lie when asked about the circumstances
surrounding a departure from The Firm.

* Everyone else at The Firm would be making more money than you.
This isn't as bad as it sounds. One advantage is that you can
reverse roles with your secretary and call her a cheapskate when
she doesn't pay for your lunch or buy you an expensive present
for your birthday.

* You would still have those old friends from the days when you
really did want to work for Greenpeace, but who abandoned you
when you started representing toxic polluters at The Firm.

* Forcing associates to work without a salary is the only way to
ensure that lawyers do their share of pro bono work.

* The inevitable would be hastened: You would default on your
student loans immediately, avoiding years of worrying about
defaulting.

* No more worrying about meeting billable-hour goals in order to
ensure profitability. You would become profitable starting with
the first hour you bill for The Firm.

* Instead of being a devastating blow to your livelihood,
termination or disbarment would mean a financial bonanza-
assuming you start a new career.

* It would be far easier to compile the necessary data for
associate salary surveys.

Despite all these advantages-and even though most associates
work so hard we don't have time to spend the money we earn-we
still like being paid for our work.

And besides fostering social interaction among law students,
lawyers from different firms, and associates and partners,
salaries give some meaning to what we do for a living-the higher
the salary, the more meaning.

A WORD FROM THE RODENT
Giving Thanks for a Turkey of a Job


Thanksgiving is an excellent occasion to remember the reasons
why we are fortunate to be lawyers, and to consider all those
things for which we can be grateful.

Perhaps you need more than a moment to come up with something.
Go ahead, take as much time as you like. . . .

Still nothing?

OK, admittedly, even at Thanksgiving time, it may be difficult
for many lawyers to feel fortunate. Attempting to focus on the
positive aspects of the practice of law can prove futile when
our jobs consist primarily of tedious research projects, long
hours, insolent staff, pressure to meet our billable-hour goals,
hostile and abrasive adversaries, hostile and abrasive
colleagues, constant deadlines, and unappreciative clients.

THE GRATITUDINALLY CHALLENGED

Giving thanks is also a challenge when so many of us are
professionally unhappy and dissatisfied. According to a 1992
poll conducted by California Lawyer  magazine, 70 percent of
lawyers surveyed said they would start a new career if they
could. A 1990 American Bar Association survey indicated that 23
percent of all lawyers, and about a third of associates, were
dissatisfied with their jobs. (The  California Bar Journal  this
month just logged in with similar observations.)

Many lawyers are jumping ship in the '90s, and business is good
for career counselors who have emerged to specialize in placing
lawyers in nonlegal jobs. One such counselor has written books
whose titles tell the tale. One is entitled  Running from the
Law: Why Good Lawyers Are Getting Out of the Legal Profession .
The other is subtitled:   Lawyer's Guide to Careers Inside,
Outside and Around the Law.

Some may say that lawyers complain too much -- that people in
other jobs are also dissatisfied. Legal secretaries, law firm
office managers and paralegals immediately come to mind. This
theory of universal dissatisfaction may be true, but there does
seem to be a particular angst among lawyers that is not nearly
as prevalent in other professions.

SLAVES AND GERBILS

I receive many letters from lawyers, mostly associates, who
express their feelings about law firm life. In one letter, a
Washington, D.C., associate describes herself as a "slave"
working in a "vile litigation sweatshop."

Another associate, from a Florida firm, sums up his existence
this way: "Wake up in the morning, bill, eat, bill, eat and bill
at the same time, bill, go to sleep."

An attorney from a Sacramento law firm writes that associates in
her office call themselves "gerbils." They refer to partners
(behind their backs, of course) as "pelletgivers" and to the
firm as "the wheel." "If the wheel spins fast enough," this
associate explains, "a gerbil gets pellets."

Many of us may feel trapped on the "wheel" and can relate to the
frustration and other emotions expressed by the lawyers who
wrote these letters. Practicing law, however, really isn't all
bad. Even those lawyers who will be spending Thanksgiving at the
office should use the occasion to pause and give thanks to The
Firm.

To assist those still having difficulty coming up with something
to be thankful for, below is a list of things for which all
lawyers should be grateful:

-- Law school is over.

-- Your student loans will be paid off by the time your kids
start college.

-- If you had gone to medical school instead of law school, you
would be spending much more of your time in court than you do
now.

-- Being at the office on Thanksgiving provides a great
opportunity to make international calls from other lawyers'
telephones, steal office supplies, crack your hated rival's
computer access code, and get to know the security guards.

-- We earn more than insurance adjusters, which makes up for
rarely seeing our families.

-- Because all of The Firm's financial numbers won't be in until
January, odds are you won't be laid off until after the
holidays.

-- You have your health (for first-year associates only).

-- That turkey spread from the lunchroom vending machine is
quite tasty.

-- You don't work at Baker & McKenzie, which just lost a
multimillion-dollar sexual harassment case, or for one of those
firms that went out of business this year (unless, of course,
you do -- in which case you really have nothing to be thankful
for).

You lawyers should be feeling better about your profession, now
that you have been reminded of how fortunate you really are.

One more item can be added to the list for all those gerbils out
there trying to stay on the wheel by keeping the pelletgivers
happy: Be thankful for the pellets.

A WORD FROM THE RODENT
Hitching Up with a Power Partner


The first thing every associate should do upon joining The Firm
is to determine who's who. One doesn't want to miss the
opportunity to ingratiate oneself with influential senior
lawyers. At the same time, associates don't want to waste time
and effort being nice to people who can't help advance their
careers.

Whether they want to or not, almost all associates eventually
align themselves with a particular partner. The selection of
this partner is crucial because, over time, the associate's
identity will be inextricably linked with the chosen partner,
whose success or failure often determines whether the associate
flourishes or fails at The Firm. As goes the partner, so goes
the associate.

Associates selecting a partner to tie their fortunes to are like
passengers at an airport. Associates who choose the right flight
will soar to their destination; those making the wrong selection
will crash and burn.

For the associate's purposes, partners can be divided into two
categories: Power and Puny.

Power Partners typically are successful rainmakers whose
business-development skills are vital to The Firm's survival.
Because of his or her financial importance, whatever the Power
Partner says goes.

A successful alignment with a Power Partner can protect an
associate from being fired or mistreated by other partners. In
some cases, the relationship might even be enough to assure the
associate's election to partnership.

By contrast, Puny Partners are those lawyers who have become
expendable. The Puny Partner might be an excellent person -- or,
more important, an excellent lawyer -- but is considered
deadwood and an economic drain on The Firm. The next time cuts
need to be made, everyone expects the Puny Partner to be forced
out of the partnership. An associate can be tainted forever
merely by doing one small project for the Puny Partner or by
being caught having lunch with him or her.

POWER OF ATTORNEYS

For associates having difficulty categorizing The Firm's
partners, the following are some indicators that help in making
the important distinction:

Puny Partner: Answers own telephone so as not to inconvenience
the secretary. Besides typing his or her own documents, the Puny
Partner also knows how to operate the copying and fax machines.

Power Partner: Takes three days to return phone calls from
clients, a week for calls from other lawyers, and has secretary
return calls from spouse.

Puny Partner: Stops by associates' offices "just to say hi."
Usually described as "really nice."

Power Partner: Except for fellow Power Partners, refuses to
associate with others at The Firm, whose greetings are answered
with a blank stare or an occasional grunt.

Puny Partner: Devotes a large percentage of time at the office
to pro bono work and community activities. Recently had to sell
his or her home to one of The Firm's paralegals due to declining
partnership draws.

Power Partner: Hasn't really practiced law in years because
rainmaking is far more lucrative. Lets other lawyers (such as
the Puny Partner) do the legal work.

Puny Partner: Turns down cases and clients that present
conflicts of interest or pose ethical or moral problems.

Power Partner: Has been disbarred in four states.

Puny Partner: Happily married and has never had sex in the
office.

Power Partner: Has as many divorces as disbarments.

Puny Partner: Takes an interest in the lives and careers of
associates and staff. Knows the names of the guys in the mail
room and members of the cleaning crew.

Power Partner: Recognizes Puny Partner, but isn't sure whether
he or she is a paralegal, a secretary or someone from Xerox
fixing the copying machines.

Unfortunately, selecting a partner to latch on to is a fact of
firm life. Those who fail to do so risk becoming Associate
Orphans because no one knows which partner they belong to.
Associate Orphans are always the first ones fired and thus never
have the opportunity to become even Puny Partners.

By carefully selecting the right partner, any associate -- no
matter how incompetent or unqualified -- can assure his or her
advancement at The Firm.

Keep in mind, however, that a partner's status at The Firm can
change overnight. A high-flying Power Partner might suddenly
become a Puny Partner if, for example, he or she (but probably
he) is successfully sued by a former secretary.

"A Word From the Rodent" is drawn from a newsletter on the
aspirations and antagonisms of associate life. Readers
interested in obtaining The Rodent newsletter may call (213)
871-8579 or write to 2531 Sawtelle Blvd., No. 30, Los Angeles,
Calif. 90064.



A WORD FROM THE RODENT

"Hunk Flunks," screamed the New York Post headline when John F.
Kennedy Jr. failed the New York state bar examination.
Television and newspaper tabloids reported the event in great
detail. Even Dr. Joyce Brothers offered her analysis of the
situation. "I think he desperately wants to pass the bar exam,"
she said.

Most recent graduates waiting for results of their bar exam
aren't subjected to quite as much attention as the son of a
former president. Still, for those getting disappointing news,
something far worse often lies ahead.

Many have gone to The Firm directly out of law school and so are
already associates when the exam results are sent out. Even this
early in an associate's career, The Firm feels it has invested
quite a bit in that person. The least the new associate is
expected to do in return is pass the bar.

Associates are well aware of this. As a result, the worst thing
about failing the bar exam is having to tell the partners who
hired you to practice law that you won't be licensed to do so
for at least another six months.

I happen to know all about this because I am an admitted member
of Bar Failers Anonymous. You see, there was this essay question
on criminal procedure that didn't identify itself to me as such
until the exam was over.

After receiving my "We regret to inform you ... " letter from
the state bar, I was eager to begin focusing on retaking the
exam. Before I could do that, however, I had to share the news
of my misfortune with those at The Firm.

Some partners were better than others at hiding their dismay.
Each of them came up with something to say that presumably was
intended to make me feel better. This wasn't always the effect
their words had on me.

The first partner I talked to responded to my news by explaining
that, back in the days when he took the exam, those who passed
were informed of their scores. Today -- in California, at least
-- only bar failers, or BFs, are told their scores.

The partner said he received the third-highest exam score in the
state and, as a result, the state bar asked him to grade future
bar exams. For some reason I couldn't relate to his experience,
so I went on to the next partner.

The Other Guys

Everyone I talked to that day at The Firm seemed to have an
anecdote about someone else who had failed the exam. Although
the passage rate in California is usually in the neighborhood of
40 percent, partners spoke of those who didn't pass as if they
had been struck by lightning.

"I know someone who failed the exam twice," one partner told me,
"and he has a successful practice today!"

It wasn't until these partners tried to cheer me up that I
realized how devastating failing the bar could be. I felt like
someone who had been diagnosed with a fatal disease, but told
not to give up on life because a few victims survive.

Others informed me of famous people who had also failed the
exam. (BF Fun Fact: The last three governors of the state of
California took the bar a total of eight times.)

I also heard about someone's law school classmate, a guy named
Shakey Johnson, who, despite several attempts, just couldn't
pass the bar exam. As the story went, poor Shakey eventually
gave up on the idea of becoming a lawyer and instead opened a
pizza parlor. "Shakey's" later became the biggest chain of pizza
parlors in the country.

A couple of the partners I spoke to pointed out that Charles
Evans Hughes, a former chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court,
passed the New York bar exam only after seven attempts. The
implication of this, I guessed, was that I could fail five more
times and still qualify to sit on the Supreme Court -- or make
pizzas.

Unfortunately, on that same day, I was expressly told that I
would be considered unqualified to practice law at The Firm if I
failed the bar one more time.

When word of my misfortune spread, I began to learn of other BFs
at The Firm. Throughout the day, several associates, including
one who had never previously spoken to me, came to my office,
shut the door and admitted that they too had once failed the bar
exam.

As each one of my new comrades left my office, we practiced the
secret BF handshake and made plans to eat pizza together at the
next meeting of the Charles Evans Hughes Society of Repeat Bar
Exam Takers.

A Second Chance

Fortunately, I passed the bar on my second attempt and, as time
passed, having failed it became less and less significant.
Despite what some people will try to tell you, some do survive
after being struck by lightning and failing the bar exam.

Once a year, I visit first-year associates preparing to retake
the bar exam and confess that I was one of them. But I refrain
from telling them about governors, Supreme Court justices, sons
of former presidents and pizza tycoons. Instead, I share with
them the thing I found most helpful in dealing with my own
failure.

I show them a letter I received from a partner at the firm where
I had worked during law school. His message put everything in
perspective and inspired me to pass the bar exam the next time:
"Sorry you didn't pass the bar exam. Don't feel bad. At least
you've never been convicted of drunk driving."




A WORD FROM THE RODENT
Are You Sack Bait? Warning Signs to Look For.

At least once or twice during their careers, most lawyers are
told that their prospects for advancement to the ranks of
partnership might be more favorable at another place of
employment.

In other words, if you're an associate at a law firm, expect to
be canned.

In any profession, and at any workplace, firing employees is
always difficult and never pleasant. Law firms are, however,
especially poor in performing this task.

As demonstrated in recent years when law firm layoffs have
become commonplace, associates tend to be fired without warning.

Furthermore, almost all associates who go through this painful
experience have their own horror story about how their
particular firm mishandled the situation.

One of the more memorable law firm tales of termination typifies
how firms stumble when firing personnel. This occurred at a
major New York firm where the partners announced that a number
of associates were about to be laid off.

Instead of speaking with each victim personally, firm leaders
told associates that those included in the ill-fated group would
be informed the following morning by interoffice e-mail. Never
before in legal history had so much fear been associated with
turning on a computer.

The final decision to fire personnel is usually made during a
partnership meeting. In conjunction with the decision to
terminate, partners also agree to keep the news confidential
until the luckless associate is informed personally.

Partners, however, inevitably neglect to take the obvious
companion steps of choosing someone to break the news to the
associate and making certain that the wretch is informed
immediately.

After the fateful partnership meeting, individual partners
unable to keep a secret proceed to tell their secretaries and
other associates about the decision to terminate.

At this point, the grapevine and rumor mill take over and run
their course until, eventually, everyone at the firm knows of
the news.

Everyone, that is, except the soon-to-be-terminated attorney.

The Rodent has had firsthand experience of how this scenario
plays out. I learned of my termination by way of a 5 a.m.
telephone call from Tokyo that began: "So sorry to hear the
unfortunate news."

The call was from a Japanese client I had worked with and who
had heard of my plight from an attorney working in the firm's
Tokyo office.

The unfortunate news, which by this time had crisscrossed the
distance of the Pacific Ocean, took another day to reach me from
an office 30 feet down the hall. That was the office of the
partner charged with the responsibility of telling me that my
services would no longer be needed.

Out of the Loop

Associates insecure about their future at The Firm (i.e., every
associate) should realize that everyone else in the office will
know of your firing before you do.

Associates are therefore advised to look for indicators in the
behavior of colleagues that can tip you off that your career at
The Firm is over.

Listed below are some telltale signs that it's time to pack your
files, call a headhunter and file that wrongful- termination
claim, because the pink slip is in the interoffice mail:

* Partners who once greeted you warmly suddenly refuse to
acknowledge your existence. At the same time, partners who have
never previously acknowledged your existence now greet you
warmly.

* You have just bought a car or home you can't afford.

* Paralegals and junior associates stop laughing at your jokes
and no longer pretend to like you.

* The guys from the mail room snicker whenever they see you.

* Your secretary ignores you more than usual and seems really,
really happy.

* A member of the cleaning crew offers to help you get an
interview with one of the other law firms in the building.

* You catch other associates hanging their diplomas on your
office wall.

* The Federal Express delivery person asks what you are still
doing at the office.

* You've recently had a performance review and the partners told
you that you're doing a great job and are on the partnership
track.

One or more of these red flags should be enough to put you on
notice that the party is over.

The Rodent does recommend, however, that you wait for actual
confirmation of your dismissal before packing up your files and
filing suit.

You might just be paranoid (as you well should be) and imagining
these things. Other people in the office might also be playing a
cruel trick on you.

After you have been officially notified of the bad news, you can
proceed to take another job and start worrying about being laid
off from your new firm.

A WORD FROM THE RODENT
A Young Lawyers' Guide to Being Fired

At least once or twice during their careers, most lawyers are
told that their prospects for advancement to the ranks of
partnership might be more favorable at another place of
employment.

In other words, if you're an associate at a law firm, expect to
be canned.

In any profession, and at any workplace, firing employees is
always difficult and never pleasant. Law firms are, however,
especially poor in performing this task.

As demonstrated in recent years when law-firm layoffs have
become commonplace, associates tend to be fired without warning.

Furthermore, almost all associates who go through this painful
experience have their own horror story about how their
particular firm mishandled the situation.

One of the more memorable law-firm tales of termination typifies
how firms stumble when firing personnel. This occurred at a
major New York firm where the partners announced that a number
of associates were about to be laid off.

Instead of speaking with each victim personally, firm leaders
told associates that those included in the ill-fated group would
be informed the following morning by interoffice e -mail. Never
before in legal history had so much fear been associated with
turning on a computer.

The final decision to fire personnel is usually made during a
partnership meeting. In conjunction with the decision to
terminate, partners also agree to keep the news confidential
until the luckless associate is informed personally.

Partners, however, inevitably neglect to take the obvious
companion steps of choosing someone to break the news to the
associate and making certain that the wretch is informed
immediately.

After the fateful partnership meeting, individual partners
unable to keep a secret proceed to tell their secretaries and
other associates about the decision to terminate.

At this point, the grapevine and rumor mill take over and run
their course until, eventually, everyone at the firm knows of
the news.

Everyone, that is, except the soon-to-be-terminated attorney.

The Rodent has had firsthand experience of how this scenario
plays out. I learned of my termination by way of a 5 a.m.
telephone call from Tokyo that began: "So sorry to hear the
unfortunate news."

The call was from a Japanese client I had worked with and who
had heard of my plight from an attorney working in the firm's
Tokyo office.

The unfortunate news, which by this time had crisscrossed the
distance of the Pacific Ocean, took another day to reach me from
an office 30 feet down the hall. That was the office of the
partner charged with the responsibility of telling me that my
services would no longer be needed. Out of the Loop

Associates insecure about their future at The Firm (i.e., every
associate) should realize that everyone else in the office will
know of your firing before you do.

Associates are therefore advised to look for indicators in the
behavior of colleagues that can tip you off that your career at
The Firm is over.

Listed below are some telltale signs that it's time to pack your
files, call a headhunter, and file that wrongful -termination
claim, because the pink slip is in the interoffice mail:

 Partners who once greeted you warmly suddenly refuse to
acknowledge your existence. At the same time, partners who have
never previously acknowledged your existence now greet you
warmly.

 You have just bought a car or home you can't afford.

 Paralegals and junior associates stop laughing at your jokes
and no longer pretend to like you.

 The guys from the mail room snicker whenever they see you.

 Your secretary ignores you more than usual and seems really,
really happy.

 A member of the cleaning crew offers to help you get an
interview with one of the other law firms in the building.

 You catch other associates hanging their diplomas on your
office wall.

 The Federal Express delivery person asks what you are still
doing at the office.

 You've recently had a performance review and the partners told
you that you're doing a great job and are on the partnership
track.

One or more of these red flags should be enough to put you on
notice that the party is over.

The Rodent does recommend, however, that you wait for actual
confirmation of your dismissal before packing up your files and
filing suit.

You might just be paranoid (as you well should be) and imagining
these things. Other people in the office might also be playing a
cruel trick on you.

After you have been officially notified of the bad news, you can
proceed to take another job and start worrying about being laid
off from your new firm.



"A Word From the Rodent" appears monthly in Legal Times. Readers
interested in sharing information about their firm and practice
or in suggesting topics for this column may write to The Rodent
in care of Legal Times, 1730 M St., N.W., Suite 802, Washington,
D.C. 20036. Readers interested in obtaining The Rodent
newsletter may call [phone] or write to 2531 Sawtelle
Blvd., No. 30, Los Angeles, Calif. 90064.

                        T H E   E N D