Anonymous wrote:I was there out of law school for a couple years, then left to do consulting. I was well-liked by the partners. It was wrong for me, for the following reasons:
I felt trapped in my office (in a large city, in a skyscraper). I used to fantasize about cutting a small hole in the window to get fresh air.
The fabulous and expensive suits are fun until the novelty wears off. I just didn't like dressing up every day for a date with books and computers and copy machines. (I wasn't senior enough to get out from behind the desk work and meet clients and go to the courtroom)
I used to wish I could file my documents in alphabetical order, or have some other time to just zone out--my secretary said, "No, that's what I'm here for; your job is to do the heavy thinking." I can do heavy thinking, but didn't want to do it ten hours a day…
I did not date for two years. I was very attractive and I'm not weird, but am not a partier and don't go to bars. I just couldn't meet anybody in the few hours a week I had off (I was working on the weekends, too).
At one point I called my mom and begged her to drive over (2.5 hour drive) to do my laundry for me while I worked. After that, I went and bought 100 pairs of underwear so I wouldn't have to do my laundry.
Billing my time, every 6 minutes, is some sort of hell to me. Hell. My uncle, who had ran a few small companies and who was very entrepreneurial, had told me basically not to pick a profession where you trade your time for money. He had told me the better way is to make widgets, because if there is twice the demand for widgets, you can produce this without giving up twice the time in your life. I was young and didn't know what the heck he was talking about. I remember asking what a widget was. Years later, when I got that first timesheet, that conversation came back to me and I understood.
Uncle was right. The model is broken. Time is your inventory (in 99% of the cases) and you can never make more of it.