Lawyers are the Best Disney World Planners

Last month we took yet another trip to Disney World.  We are those people.  We go to far too often, and yes, we even went prior to having children.  It's fake and commercial and overpriced and lacking in culture and we all absolutely love it.

I've been going to Disney World every year or two for my whole life, so I know how it all works.  We used to book our flights and hotels with short notice and do little to no planning (my mom was known to book a Disney trip the day before - literally).  But in recent years, due in large part to the expansion of the hotels and the advent of the the smart phone and the internet and all that other stuff they call "technology," it isn't so easy to just hope on a plane, go to Disney World, and actually have a good time.  

Now, months of planning are involved.  People book their dining reservations 180 days in advance. Really.  They do.  I know this because I have waited until 9am 180 days in advance (instead of staying up until midnight), and I still was not able to book dinner at Be Our Guest restaurant.  People also book up to 3 rides per day up to 60 days in advance - this is called a fast pass where you get a certain time slot to go on a ride of your choosing.  This means that two months before your vacation, you have to decide what park you want to go to, and where exactly you want to be at a given time, on a certain day.  The popular rides are booked up immediately.  And if you don't have a fast pass, by noon the ride lines are exorbitant - at the time I am writing this (at 1:30pm on Thursday), the line for the Toy Story Ride at Hollywood Studios is 105 minutes (the Disney app updates wait times every minute or so).  And the hotels are a whole other story - if you want to stay onsite (especially on the monorail), good luck booking last minute during a popular time.

If you don't pre-plan, and you just show up at Disney World with no game plan or strategy, your time there will suck.  You will wait in line for food, for rides, and sweat in 90+ degree heat and high humidity.  You will be trapped by a parade coming down Main Street as you are trying to leave, you will walk needless miles from ride to ride, you will wait for what seems like an eternity for the transportation buses, and you will judge people like me that say it's the happiest place on earth.  

I am not one to brag, but here it is - I rock at planning Disney vacations.  And though part of it stems from my many trips there over the years, the other part comes from an unlikely source - my law degree.  

People often ask if I "use" my law degree at all in my non-practicing life.  To debate with people, to analyze scholarly articles, to negotiate with service providers.  The answer is no.  I hate talking politics, I prefer reading People magazine, and I tend to avoid confrontation.  But for Disney planning?  Hell yeah, I use the skills I learned from being a lawyer.  This is discussed in sections 1, 2, and 3, infra.

Was Law School Worth It?

For some, like my husband, it's an easy answer.  Of course it was worth it!  He's got a great job in a great firm working with great people and he can't complain about his salary.  (Plus, he met yours truly in law school - does it get any better than that?).  

For me, this is a particularly loaded question.  Because it comes with the following undertone:  

Was law school worth it, when now you don't even use your law degree and spend the majority of your time child rearing?  

And, more to the point:  

Wasn't it a waste?  

I've pondered this question from time to time, and it was actually posed to me recently by Annie Little, a blogger and writer for the website, Attorney at Work.  She asked me, as well as nine other lawyers from various different backgrounds, how we subjectively viewed the value of our law degrees.  The result was posted last Friday.  Here's a snippet of my response (to view the entire response, click here and scroll down to #5 - and also check out all of the other responses!):  

"When I graduated from law school back in 2005, a law degree meant money.  I hadn't gone into law school expecting that.  In fact, I had planned on going into public international law (whatever that is). But after three years of school, six digits of debt, and a multitude of offers in a booming economy, I went with the big ticket, big law offer.

But as the cliche goes, money doesn't buy happiness.  And at a certain point, I realized that following the money didn't fit me and what I ultimately wanted in life:  Children.  After six years of firm practice and two children, I quit.  At that point, I wondered if my law degree had any value at all anymore.

What a waste of a degree, I would think.  All that time, hard work, expense... for what?  I certainly didn't need my law degree to be a stay-at-home-mom.  Laundry, cooking, and running after two (and then three) small children didn't require any legal skills.  In fact, when people asked me what I did, I stopped telling them I was a lawyer.  

Or was I?  What makes a lawyer?"

To continue reading, click here.

Why did YOU leave?

My very first post on this blog, a whole three and a half years ago (holy crap, that's crazy), was devoted to why I left a big law firm to stay at home with my kids.  (You can find it by clicking here). It was picked up by Above the Law, a legal news site/blog, which is why people actually started reading this blog.  It's still my second most popular post (behind my post on why lawyers are so miserable, which, who knew, is a very popular google term).  

I occasionally reread my introductory post myself.  I'm not sure why.  I suppose it's a reminder as to how I got where I am, though when I read it, I find it hard to reconcile it with my current self.  I've come a long way, and I've chronicled it as the time has passed (here and here and probably a hundred other places I have forgotten about in 3.5 years).   If anything, what I've learned in the years since I first started this blog is that my story is not that unique.  SO many women have faced the issues I have faced in the legal profession.  And a lot of them, like me, have left.  

So why did you leave? 

The freelance network that I am a part of, Montage Legal Group, is conducting a survey to collect information about what law firms can do to retain talented attorneys.  And while it is useful to talk to attorneys still working in law firms, the better source is probably those that have actually left.  

So, if you previously worked at a law firm or legal job and left due to dissatisfaction, or if you think your law firm missed an opportunity to retain you...

Take the survey!

It takes five minutes, and your responses are anonymous and confidential.  (Just click here).

And, if you really want to share your experience, consider writing it out and sharing it here on my blog, via the Your Turn Series.  

Either way, put your "story" out there!  It's a freeing thing (I speak from experience!).  

Why Can't Law Firms Retain Women?

It's no secret that in large law firms, men fare far better than women.  All one needs to do is review any website of any major law firm (or simply walk the halls) to see that most partners are men.

Still, I was shocked by an article published in the Washington Post last month, entitled "Large law firms are failing women," which conveyed some alarming statistics:

"Women are enrolled in half of law school classes and work alongside men in nearly equal numbers as associates.  And yet, women today are twice as likely as men to leave law firms for reasons like work-life balance.  What's more, in a survey of more than 17,000 law firm associates, women rated their firms' culture, their job satisfaction and their compensation (to name just a few) much lower than their male counterparts did.  This may provide some insight behind the statistic that only 4% of the 200 top U.S. law firms have female, firm-wide managing partners."  

FOUR PERCENT.  

We women go from making up 50% of a law school class, to 4% of managing partners.

There is clearly a problem here.  

Five Years Ago Yesterday

Yesterday was January 26th.  I knew it was a significant day in one way or another, but I honestly couldn't remember why.  An ex boyfriend's birthday?  A graduation of sorts?  An appointment I was forgetting?

It clicked yesterday afternoon.  It was none of the above.  

January 26th, 2009, was the day that I went back to work after my first son was born.  Five years ago.  

It makes sense that the date is forever etched in my mind.  From the moment I gave birth to him, that date loomed - January 26th.  From a formal perspective, it meant the end of my maternity leave.  But it meant so much more to me than that.  It meant the end of my days at home with my baby.  It meant nannies and childcare and breast pumps.  It meant fitting back into business casual clothing and rejoining the professional world and continuing on with life as it was before, pre-baby. It meant becoming Shannon, the lawyer, once again.  

But of course, I wasn't only Shannon, the lawyer, anymore.  I was also Shannon, the mother.  

  

Validation

I don't write that much about my decision to leave my law firm job anymore, for a couple of reasons: 1) I don't want to be a broken record - I've written about it A LOT; and 2) I don't think about it that much anymore.  Truly. This whole blog started as a way for me to vent and find connections and, in all honesty, seek some kind of validation about the whole thing.  But in the years that have passed, I have stopped thinking about it all that much.  I have found new connections, new outlets, and I no longer feel like I need validation.  I am at a place of peace about the whole thing, and in fact, I sometimes look back at old posts of mine and cringe.

Lately, however, I have been inundated with emails from women asking me for my advice about their own career path.  Some ask if I think they should leave their current jobs.  Some have recently left their current jobs and ask me what I suggest they do to maintain a network.  Others have recently found out they are pregnant and are in a state of panic as to how they will balance their career with a family.  I am, in many ways, honored that people are seeking my advice, but in some ways I don't feel I am necessarily the best person to give it.  After all, who am I?  I am just your average girl that happens to write a blog and also happens to have left a career to stay at home.  But I try my best to put myself in their position, and give honest, sincere advice.

To really understand where these women are coming from, I have to put myself back in time.  I have to remember the struggles I faced, what it was like when I left, and all the insecurities I felt.  I have to remember that I felt so alone and unsure and, in many ways, like some kind of failure for even considering leaving my job.  I have to remember the main reason I started this blog - for some kind of validation about my ultimate decision.

Frantically Filling the Resume Gap

I am coming off two weeks of wonderful, relaxing vacation.  It was a vacation where I did my best to leave all my cares behind, to be stress free, and to live in the moment.  And in many ways, I did just that.  But there's always the wretched reality of coming back.  And today, with my husband back to work, two kids with fevers, and a variety of freelance and part time gigs that are all coming to a head, I am feeling that reality.  The feeling that I am taking on too much is flooding in.

When I left my job at a law firm over two years ago, one of the burdens hanging over my head was that of a resume gap.  The notorious resume gap!  It seemed to be the number one concern of those I spoke to at the time: What are you going to do about your resume gap?  How long will the gap be?  Make sure you don't have too long of a resume gap - you'll never get another job - ever, ever, ever!  

I tended to roll my eyes at the time.  In dealing with the change and shock of going from a full time worker to a stay at home mom, a resume gap wasn't a short term concern of mine.  In addition, on principle I resented this.  I am who I am today, and I will be that person tomorrow.  Of course, my skills and knowledge will get stale, and I expected that to be taken into account.  But to suggest that a resume gap would doom me, and render all of my previous accomplishments moot? Bullshit, I told myself.

But I'm not going to say it didn't occur to me.  After all, I had been a resume builder extraordinaire for most of my adult life.  My resume went linearly from 1996 on - with no gaps, and with many prestigious internship enhancements, awards, and recognitions.  I made many a decision with the reasoning of, that will look good on my resume, and as a result, it was a pretty good resume, if I do say so myself.  I had spent more than a decade perfecting this resume of mine, and there I was, abandoning it.  GIVING IT A GAP FROM WHICH IT WOULD NEVER RECOVER!

"Girls Don't Work"

Last week, while visiting my dad in North Carolina, my four year old son asked me if my step-mom could accompany us on an excursion to the pool.

"Nana has to work," I told him.  "We'll see her later."

"Girls don't work!" my son quickly replied.

I was at first speechless, and then retorted without much thought: "Of course girls work!  You know how Mommy is at the computer sometimes?  Mommy is working!  And your teachers, your teachers last year were girls.  Being a teacher is work, right?  And the lifeguard at the pool - she's a girl, and she's working!"

By that point my son's attention had turned to other things, and he was making flying noises for his Buzz Lightyear toy.  He had moved on.  But I couldn't seem to.  The sentiment haunted me all day.

I couldn't help but think:  In becoming a stay at home mom, what have I done?  

I decided to leave my full time job mostly for my own reasons - to alleviate stress, to focus on motherhood, to be able to spend more time watching my son grow - all reasons that would benefit me.    But I'd be lying if I didn't say there was a part of me that thought it would also be best for him.  Best for him to have me pick him up from school, me take him to playdates, me care for him when he was sick, me be his constant presence.  I guess in some ways it was an egotistical sentiment, but I really thought that I could do the best job for him over anyone.

But had I created a budding male chauvinist in the process?

Need a will? A GIVEAWAY for legal services!

The best thing about this blog is that I get to meet people I never would have encountered otherwise.

A month or so ago, in conjunction with the Mommy Esquire event, I was contacted by Maria Simon, an attorney with the Law Office of Rebecca Geller, a firm comprised solely of moms with young children that specializes in wills and estate planning.  That's right, an all mom law firm!  I was intrigued.

We had a bit of a dialogue, and she mentioned that she would be interested in doing a giveaway for legal services (wills/guardianship documents, trusts, advance medical directives, and legal family documents) on my blog.  I thought it would be a great idea, particularly since I know that many families don't have a will, despite how important it is to have something in place when kids are involved.  I agreed, and asked that she also grant me an interview, as I figured many readers would be interested in hearing her story.

So without further adieu, here is Maria's story of success in having a legal career with children. And be sure to read the entire thing (or scroll to the bottom), because details of the giveaway are below:

Your Turn - Sarah's Story

"Your Turn" is a series of posts where readers share their stories of parenthood, work, the struggle for a balance, or just life generally.  If you are interested in contributing a story, please email me at butidohavealawdegree@gmail.com, or click here.  

When I joined a large Washington, D.C. based law firm six years ago, I fully expected that Big Law firm life was incompatible with family, but I thought that I had plenty of time before I had to worry about it. After all, I was newly married, no kids, and a lot of ambition.  About two years into litigation practice, with a baby on the way, I knew that the time had come to take stock of my life, my career, and my priorities.  I came home only to shower, sleep, change clothes, and occasionally walk the dogs.  My husband took care of everything else from cleaning to bill paying to grocery shopping.  He was growing tired of our arrangement.  Our home was my hotel, restaurant, and dry cleaning service.  Convenient for me; painfully frustrating for my husband.

After a particularly grueling month of working around the clock late into my pregnancy with our first son, my husband gave me an ultimatum: do something about your job or this marriage/family is going to fall apart.  Bamm! Less than 2 years into my legal career and I was at the mom vs. career crossroads—job or family.  The next month I requested an alternative work schedule (AWS). 

Stepping Out of My Comfort Zone

When I worked in big law I allowed stress to take over my life.  I was stressed about deadlines, stressed about pleasing the client, stressed about meeting the firm's expectations, stressed about defending depositions and giving presentations and finding the perfect case and making sure everything was always just right.  I felt like there was always someone counting on me, always some kind of performance to orchestrate, and a million opportunities to let everyone down. There was little rest from this pressure, particularly because so much of it was self inflicted.

Leaving my job was driven by my desire to be with my children, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't relieved to leave some of that responsibility behind.  It's not that all responsibility went away - obviously kids come with a whole new set of obligations, commitments, and burdens.  But my duties to them didn't intimidate me - I knew I could do it, that I WOULD do it.  I had a faith in myself as a parent that I never had in my myself as a lawyer.  

A trade off to being a stay at home mom, I always thought, was that any sort of professional satisfaction I had would cease to exist.  And despite the stress and the pressure of being a firm lawyer, I certainly did experience notions of achievement - particularly after I overcame an obstacle or a fear: getting through an oral argument, negotiating a settlement, making my colleagues proud, or just finishing a project that had hung over my head.  I figured those senses of accomplishment would be replaced by something even more profound - the joy of being with my children, every day.  

It is joyful and rewarding and gratifying and worthwhile.  But generally, being a stay at home mom is predictable and routine.  It certainly is stressful at times, but it's a different kind of stress than the stress I felt as a lawyer.  As a parent, I rarely have to get out of my comfort zone like I did as a full time professional attorney.  

I think it was a matter of weeks into my role as a stay at home mom that I realized maybe I did need something more.  After all, isn't that what this blog was about?  About "professional" satisfaction? About feeling like I'm still adding something real, something thoughtful, outside the confines of my own home?  About putting myself out there?  About stepping out of my comfort zone?   

A few weeks ago I really put myself out there.  

A Thursday Night Out

Just a reminder for those locals reading this - tomorrow is the first DC area "Mommy Esquire" meet-up.  This group intends to promote fellowship, education, and networking for lawyers with young children.  

And it's a good excuse to get a drink.  

The event is downtown tomorrow night from 6:30-8:30pm, and appetizers will be provided courtesy of Montage Legal Group.  Email me at butidohavealawdegree@gmail.com if you are interested in coming and want details.  

Otherwise, happy Wednesday everyone!   

Why Are Lawyers So Miserable?

It seems to be common knowledge these days that being a lawyer isn't always the best job.  I remember Tom Hanks giving an interview once on Inside the Actor's Studio, when he was asked what the job is he would least want to do.  His answer?  A lawyer, because "it's like doing homework for a living."

How oddly true.

But now, it's official.

According to a recent Forbes article, the number one unhappiest job in America is..... (drum roll, please).

Associate Attorney

I can't say I'm entirely surprised.  But what is shocking is that not only are we an unhappy bunch, but we are also the most depressed.  According to The Dave Nee Foundation, lawyers are the most frequently depressed occupational group in the U.S., lawyers are 3.6 times more likely to suffer from depression than non-lawyers, and lawyers rank 5th in incidence of suicide by occupation.

What gives?

I don't really know.

Whether the law profession attracts people who are unhappy and have a proclivity for depression (or really like homework), or whether it makes people unhappy or depressed, I cannot answer.  But I do have a few observations:

Denied, Rejected, Rebuffed, We Don't Want YOU!

I had a job interview last month.  I didn't write about it, or really even tell anyone about it, because it was kind of out of the blue and I didn't really know what to make of it.

It all started at the beginning of January.  Every once in a while I will peruse the part time job listings for local universities in my area.  I don't know why, I have this glorified view of academia and think it would be so cool if I could teach and be surrounded by students and be all "collegial" like and get my summers off.  It seems like a great career for a mom, and it also would allow me to continue freelancing through my gig with Montage.  Reality or not, I found a job listing at a nearby university that seemed perfect for me - part time faculty (20 hours a week), and working mostly from home.

Ah yes!  I thought.  This is where all roads have led!  This is what is meant to be!

True, I have no teaching experience.  But it was in a legalesque field, so I figured I had a shot at it. I applied online one night, weeks passed, and I almost forgot about it.  Then, at the beginning of February I received word that they wanted to conduct a phone interview.  I did.  Then I received word that they wanted me to come in for the next round of interviews.

Do you know how long it has been since I have done a formal interview?  Long enough that my suit (which I had to retrieve from the attic) was so ill fitting that the waste fell about six inches above my belly button (I like to think it is just my childbearing hips, but really, it's the ever increasing muffin top).  Long enough that when I fished my interview binder out of storage, the piece of paper that fell out of it was my interview schedule at Dickstein,  circa 2007.  Long enough that I actually found myself googling "interview etiquette."

I'm not going to lie - I felt a bit out of my element.

Reaching Out

I'm reaching out today.    

A few things:  

1) I finally bit the bullet and made a Facebook page for my blog.  I still am not entirely sure how it works (I can't seem to "like" anybody or "friend" anybody myself, but maybe I just can't. I'll get the hang of it eventually).  But if you want to "like" my page, there's a link on the top right sidebar, or you can click here.  

2) Hey remember, my Your Turn series (see the top right header above)?  Basically, it's a series of posts where readers share their stories of parenthood, work, the struggle for a balance, or just life generally (yes, I did cut and paste that from a previous post, if it sounds familiar).  It's been ages since I've had a guest poster - anyone up for it?  I love hearing other people's stories and sharing them on the blog.  

3) This one is the real "reach out."  One of my colleagues at Montage Legal Group told me about a program they have out in California called Mommy Esquire.  It's a group of lawyers, who also happen to be moms, who meet regularly to discuss "a variety of issues facing lawyers with children, including career choices, work-life balance and raising children."  

There are a lot of us mom lawyers in DC (whether we work out of the house or stay at home), and I thought it might be fun to do our own version of "Mommy Esquire" here.   So how about a DC area lawyer mom happy hour meet up?

If you are interested, please send me an email (butidohavealawdegree@gmail.com), and also do one of the following: 1) include a link to your business profile, 2) include a link to your LinkedIn account, or 3) like my page on Facebook. (I just need to make sure you are real and not some crazy internet stalker).  Also, if your firm or business is interested in sponsoring the event, let me know, and I can advertise it on here.  

Happy weekend, everyone!

Working from Home, Leaning In, and Having it All

You can't avoid it if you want to.  The issue of women in the workplace is everywhere.

First there was Yahoo CEO Marissa Mayer's announcement that she is calling an end to telecommuting.   In the memo that changed it all, she wrote:

"To become the absolute best place to work, communication and collaboration will be important, so we need to be working side-by-side.  That is why it is critical that we are all present in our offices. Some of the best decisions and insights come from hallway and cafeteria discussions, meeting new people, and impromptu team meetings.  Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home.  We need to be one Yahoo!, and that starts with physically being together.  Beginning in June, we're asking all employees with work-from-home arrangements to work in Yahoo! offices." (Memo found here).

I'd venture to guess that this new policy will most predominantly affect women -  mothers in particular.  Ms. Mayer, a mother herself and a notorious workaholic, doesn't seem to mind.  In fact, she took her position at Yahoo when she was five months pregnant, and after having her first child, she was quickly back at work after a two week maternity leave.  (Yes, you read that right - A TWO WEEK MATERNITY LEAVE).  I suppose its not a surprise that her value system is being thrust upon the entire Yahoo workforce, but I, for one, am glad I don't work there.  (And so is Richard Branson, by the way).

Then there's Sheryl Sandberg, the COO of Facebook and mother of two, who is all over the news for her new book, Leaning In, where she argues that women are their own worst enemies - that we need to be more ambitious, more aggressive, more assertive.  That, in essence, we need to be more like men.  She's wants to start a movement, and perhaps she is the perfect person to do so - in a world where 96% of CEOs of Fortune 500 companies are men, Ms. Sandberg has done pretty well for herself.

In an interview last night with 60 Minutes, she stated that in the business world women "start leaning back.  They say, 'Oh, I'm busy.  I want to have a child one day.  I couldn't possibly, you know, take on anymore.' . . . . I've never had a man say that stuff to me."  She has a point, I suppose.  Neither have I.  But is there something inherently wrong with that?  I did want children.  I didn't want to take on anymore.  I wanted some semblance of a work-life balance.  What does that make me?  A failure?  A thorn in the side of this new feminist movement?

It's Sad

I've met lots of friends through the blogosphere, but one of my nearest and dearest is Darcy.  Our blogs are very different, but our backgrounds are very similar.  We both worked in biglaw, we both left it to stay home with our kids, we both live in the DC area, and we both enjoy a good cocktail.

It was over one of these cocktails last week that she mentioned to me an article she read where the author argues that women who plan to stay at home with their kids do not deserve an education, because they are taking the spot of someone who will better use that opportunity for a real career.

I rolled my eyes, but I didn't get too angered by it.  After all, I've heard this before - from articles, from message boards, from the look on people's faces when I tell them I quit my job.  I've heard it on this blog, through a comment that caused me to write a whole post in horrified opposition. (Said comment, in case you don't feel like clicking on the link, went something like:  "I wonder if [your] coveted law school spot would have been better spent on someone who needed [a law firm job] and would more likely stick with it.").

I try not to get too angry over this stuff anymore. I figure it is just the rants of ignorant, chauvinistic kooks, and why should I even spend my time thinking about what they have to say?

But then today, my friend Darcy wrote an eloquent, well written, and reasoned post in response to the article she had mentioned to me.  She linked the aforementioned article, and I read it.  And I had to write this post.  I just can't help myself.

Going Home

When I worked in biglaw, one of the great questions was always: When can I go home?  

It's never a clear answer, and many factors are involved, workload being the least important. Rather, the pertinent issues are:  Where is your office located and what is its proximity to the elevator?  What offices must you pass on your way to the elevator?  Who else is still in the office? Who might you run into in the elevator?  If you leave your office door open with the computer on, can you create the illusion that you are just stepping out for a cigarette?

I'm not doing this conundrum justice.  It's a delicate dance.

Suffice it to say that in my first job, I would at times take the fire stairs five floors down to a different floor, so I could take an elevator in a different elevator bank.

For a true depiction of the complicated thought process that departing your biglaw office entails, check out this blog post I randomly came across today, entitled "Lawyers, Can You Go Home?".  It features a flow chart that is so accurate, it's scary.

"Real" Lawyers

When you are an attorney at a large law firm, you are worked hard.  You are stressed.  You are pulled in a thousand different directions.  But, you are also pampered. 

I'm not talking about the large salaries (though those are nice).  I'm talking about the support - the paralegals, the copy center, the cite checkers, the research librarians, the e-discovery experts, the graphics team, and I could go on and on and on.  At my first law firm, I could drop off the draft of a brief at 11pm, and by 8am, it was back underneath my office door - fully cite checked and proofed and formatted.  And when that brief had to be filed?  I didn't have to do it.  Someone else went to the courthouse or filed it electronically or served it or whatever else it is you do with a brief.  I couldn't really tell you what exactly has to be done. 

It is a huge help, and in an environment where time is at an ultimate premium, is almost a necessity.  But it results in a learned ignorance. 

Biglaw attorneys are smart, no doubt about it.  But they aren't necessarily skilled in the practical stuff.  They never learn the elementary nuts and bolts, and then when it comes to real litigation experience - the kind where you stand up in court and actually speak - they have to wait a decade or so for that.  (But they can write really well.  And use Westlaw.) 

The Memo Heard 'Round the (Legal) World

Every now and then a "leaving memo" makes legal news.  Occasionally they involve cursing, a big F-you to the partners, or an F-you to the legal industry generally.  I myself, have tired of these.  Good for you, you have the balls to really give it to them.  Your memo went viral.  You're legal career is over.  Worth it?  Who's to say. 

But last week, a different kind of leaving memo made its rounds on the internet, written by a departing Clifford Chance associate.  You probably have read about it already, but if you haven't, here's an excerpt, taken from Above the Law: