There are many ways young lawyers can develop and hone their legal knowledge and skills, but some of the most impactful lessons come simply with age and experience. That certainly has been true for me. I look back on my 21 years of legal practice, and when I ask myself if there is any particular moment or event that stands out to me as having helped shape me into the confident attorney I am today—secure in my abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, and not afraid to speak up in a boardroom or provide off-the-cuff advice—my mind jumps to an afternoon about nine years ago, when I was sitting in the back row of a very small courtroom of a state court, waiting for my case to be called.
I had been a litigation partner in a large law firm for almost three years by then, but I still was relatively new to handling cases and courtroom appearances on my own, given the complex nature of the legal matters on which I worked during my associate years. I was sitting in that courtroom, reading over my prep materials for the umpteenth time, determined to appear as poised and perfect as possible; hoping to high heaven my nervousness wouldn’t show, I wouldn’t break out in hives, and the court would not ask me a question I could not answer. I looked up to see an older, white-haired male attorney approach the lectern to present his argument in a case before mine. Based on what I had observed before court got under way, he appeared to be a regular in that courtroom, and I estimated his age to be mid-50s to mid-60s. He started his argument with all the usual formalities and withstood several tough questions from the bench, but what struck me most was not his performance, but the fact that the entire time he stood at that lectern speaking to the court, he had his right foot hooked over the back of his left foot, jiggling away with nerves. The sight of that jiggling foot was a watershed moment for me: when it really hit me that everyone is human, no matter their façade, and I did not have to put on a perfect show in order to have a winning argument.
I think back on that epiphany when I mentor young attorneys, and I offer the following advice: It’s OK to be human (i.e., imperfect and fallible); everyone else is too. That includes judges, general counsel, company presidents, senior partners, and anyone else who may intimidate you. You’re going to make mistakes, and there will be plenty of times you will not know the answer to a question. It happens to everyone, no matter how skilled or experienced. Accept that and don’t beat yourself up over it. Experience has taught me that very few mistakes are too big to overcome (even if it may not feel that way in the moment). And there is absolutely no shame in saying: “I don’t know, but let me look into that for you.”
I asked a group of other established women attorneys to add to the above advice based on their own varied experiences—what key lessons would they go back and tell their young-attorney selves if they could? The 20 respondents included multiple in-house attorneys (including general counsel); litigation partners in small, midsize, and big law firms; a state court judge; a government attorney; a state solicitor general; a solo attorney practitioner; and a retired attorney turned consultant. Their combined years of legal practice total more than 450, ranging in individual length from 9.5 to 42 years. Here are their collected words of wisdom: