Lawyers are an unhealthy bunch. By nature, we are people who could easily avoid daylight for a week, despite outsourcing our most basic needs for human survival. Law school bred us this way, tailored to focus our lives on the pursuit of the Almighty Big Law Firm Job, so we could earn lots of money just to put our lives on hold forever. These are truths we are supposed to accept when we hoist ourselves onto hamster wheels that never stop spinning.
Time is everything. We know this well, but we are conditioned to view our time as beholden instead of valued. We account for our time in billable seconds and sweeping gestures of extreme commitment. That is the essence of our profession and so many others. Time isn’t supposed to be a consideration to us. It’s what we’re supposed to be signing away.
But for the first time, maybe ever, the workforce has questions. Professionals are examining their time, how they spend it, and at what cost.
I’ve been seeking balance in my own career since the year I spent working at a large law firm. Quickly, I learned to work around the clock under constant pressure to move faster and faster. I missed everything: sunlight, dinner, fitness, friends. Even when I could see loved ones, I couldn’t really see them. My superiors wanted my whereabouts when I wasn’t at work, too, just in case an “emergency” came up. But to them, everything was an emergency, a life-or-death fire drill. It didn’t take long for me to believe it. As young people, we’re so easily trained. Our lives have little context beyond what we see in our peripheral vision. Unless someone proverbially slaps you out of it, you just grow into the mindset more. You accept it, you perpetuate it, and you pass it onto others.
I know what you’re thinking. Woe as her, being asked to work hard and make lots of money. What an entitled millennial.
Sorry to disappoint you. That’s not exactly how my story goes.
Six months into the job, I learned I was earning much less money than my colleagues on the team I joined. Most came over together from another large firm and were being paid according to their prior firm’s compensation scale—to remain competitive. Because I came from a smaller firm, where I made a very modest salary, the hiring managers figured I would just be grateful to be there. They were saving me, they loved to say. Instead, I was working on a Big Law Team with Big Law Expectations where everyone was making Big Law Salaries but me (and the other junior, who they scooped up under the same premise). I was embarrassed when I found out. Worse, given my massive amount of student loan debt, I felt worthless. People wonder why lawyers suffer from high rates of alcoholism, depression, and suicide. I was so ashamed of my financial situation there were days I couldn’t see beyond it—like there was no way out of the mistakes I made. I’m not sure what amount of money would have been enough to emotionally mitigate selling my life to that team. But I am incredibly thankful to have a spouse who recognized when I was falling into a dangerous place and was willing to do whatever it took to help me out of it.
The old saying went, time is money. But whose money, exactly? The saying meant that employees should move faster, or their employers will lose money. For billable professions, it also meant that employees should record more time to earn their employers more money. In neither of these scenarios was the “money” part referring to you. Your job was to fulfill the agenda—whatever it was—and keep doing so under the nebulous hope that the time you give would someday match the compensation you receive. This is especially true for women, who are too often gaslit into being satisfied with pats on the head and assurances that next year, things will get better.
One year into the firm, I received a new corporate job offer, but it came with a hefty pay cut that would place me back at square one. On paper, I had no business taking it. Not just from a financial standpoint but from the way it would break the traditional mold of any high-achieving young attorney in my shoes. If I just rode it out for a while longer, I probably could have parlayed the firm job into a bigger firm job for more money. But did I even want that anymore? And at what cost to me? I was assured the corporate role would support a healthier lifestyle. My heart said to take it, and when I did, my confidence began to return as pieces of me returned. Even though I took a step back financially, it was temporary. And in a sense, my regular business hours spent working were pound-for-pound earning me more money than my round-the-clock position. Freedom was the most valuable asset I could give myself then.
Ever since, I’ve worked hard to honor the correlation between what I give and what I receive.
This has definitely been easier at some times than others. I’ve leaned into professional challenges with significant time commitments and set limits where there has been no upward mobility or financial incentive. You should be able to be a good employee with boundaries and expectations. And you should be able to talk about them. As women, we have to act with intention. Work and life and the balance between them is not earned—it is taken. Because people will take whatever you’re willing to give, and they’re happy to not compensate you for it.
The old way is an old dream. But we have seen the American value proposition of putting in your time, delaying your personal gratification, and hoping to be rewarded down the road just utterly fail. Institutions have not followed through on loyalty shown to them. Lives have been cut short. We’ve now witnessed the value proposition shift twice, through the Great Recession and the pandemic, causing workers to reassess their time and decide just how much they’re willing to delay their gratification. The codification of new wage transparency laws, including most notably in New York City, are telling. I believe they will have the net effect of equipping employees (particularly those in marginalized groups) with information needed to foster a more open dialogue around fair compensation and work expectations in general.
Some refuse to recognize this paradigm shift. Just like some, I’m sure, will consider me a troublemaker for even discussing it. They find it much easier to double down on a dismissive statement like, “No one wants to work anymore,” than confront the targeted omissions from the phrase: “No one wants to work for me anymore because _______.” That would require uncomfortable work and change, as opposed to a return to the normal they want. The one where our time is their money, and our wheels spin forever.
Is time money? Or is money time? LMK: averagejoelle3@gmail.com.
The little things
Last week, my husband and I took our first flight in two years to Montreal for a little work-cation. I could woo you with my rundown of delicious tartares and escargot, but food wasn’t the best part of the trip.
I hadn’t seen my college roommate, Julia, in three years. We both came straight from Florida to New York City and truly grew up together. She moved to California to start a life with her now husband, and you know how it goes. Then, COVID hit. But in the most beautiful gift from the universe, we found ourselves both in Montreal, our travel schedules overlapping for just 18 hours. We hugged. I cried. We sipped wine on this fabulous rooftop of her hotel. We talked in the way we don’t always get to do over the phone or text, because you know how it goes. Life gets in the way. But sometimes, fate makes room.
Your wins
Readers continue to share their wins with me. I am grateful to be a part of your celebration of self! Please, keep them coming. Here is one from an absolute boss and good friend: