Retirement
By I recently had lunch with a good friend where I, for the first time, spoke seriously about my retirement. By way of background, I am fifty-one years old and have been practicing law since 2001. My wife works for a large financial institution, and we have two sons, ages ten and twelve. But why would you care about my retirement? Well, because of the nature of our legal practices, I think it’s something that some lawyers struggle with, and I’m hoping to avoid that.
For the last ten years or so, I have casually mentioned retiring at age fifty-five. (If my own math works out, I will retire around fifty-seven.) Reactions to my talk of retirement have ranged from eyes nearly popping out of heads to subtle laughs to talk of wishful thinking. I like to think these reactions stem from the fact that many of us have not truly contemplated the end of our careers, in part, because like so many other professionals and maybe to an even greater degree, we feel defined by our professions.
Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do. As an employment lawyer, I enjoy counseling people through their own work transition or guiding clients through the difficult process of letting employees go. I like trying to figure out the puzzle of a restrictive covenant or the friction created by a difficult employee. While it is certainly not without its stressors, dealing with people in some of their darkest hours is very fulfilling.
But why are so many lawyers afraid to discuss our own professional mortality? I think it’s in part because of the constant concern over generating work and the related worry that our referral sources will dry up if we even hint at the possibility of retirement. I think others worry that they won’t know what to do with all those previously billable hours. Some of us probably have unresolved business, such as another trial, another hearing, or another closing.
Even the heartiest members of our occupation will see our practices come to an end either due to diminishing faculties, health issues or the need to care for others. Why, then, should this not be on our own terms? As I think about my own retirement, I’ve started to chart my own course. And, just like anything else in life, the best laid plans are always subject to change, but any good destination needs a properly charted path full of its own peaks, valleys, and diversions.
So, if I am going to retire by the time our youngest graduates from high school and our oldest is partway through college, I have determined that I better start telling people now. Of course, that begins (and probably ends) with my wife. But it also includes friends, with whom I hope to travel, ski, play golf, volunteer, and otherwise spend quality time with. After all, I’ll need them to hold me to my pronouncements and to encourage me away from the golden handcuffs of a paycheck. (In fact, I hope they will cite this article back to me if I fail to live up to my promises.)
I think it also helps to spend more and more time away from the office. A recent illness after coming off chaperoning a fifth-grade field trip caused me to be out of the office for longer than I had been used to. Surprisingly, our office continued to operate, courts continued to function and clients continued to have problems. I know that other firms provide sabbaticals around my age. I think that makes great sense, not just because it is meaningful time away from the office but because of the perspective it creates. I think the same can be achieved with longer and more frequent time away from the office as we move toward retirement.
I think we also need to get over ourselves. Sure, most of us went to law school with visions of trials in our heads or dreams of public offerings or monumental deals. I sometimes regret that I haven’t had more trials. But, in addition to this being an indication that I might have been doing my job correctly, I have realized that our profession is, like so many others, one where there will always be one more silver ring to reach for. Taking stock in our successes, represented by the colleagues we have grown close to, the clients whose lives we have subtly made better, and the communities we have enriched, should be reward enough for a job worth living.
Of course, if we are going to retire, we’ll also need a plan. And playing golf is not a plan. I’ve learned from my father, who builds wheelchair ramps through Civitan, that we all need a purpose. Purpose can be children and grandchildren, pouring ourselves into our church or a non-profit, traveling the world or being a good neighbor. But we need purpose. And that purpose isn’t created overnight. We should start now to determine not only what we’re good at but what will provide lifeblood in retirement.
I also think law firms should be supportive in these transitions. And this doesn’t just mean financially. In addition to encouraging activities outside the four walls of our law offices, we should realistically discuss with our partners decreasing workloads, planned time off and succession planning. After all, if we never talk about something, the odds of it happening only decrease. We should also plan and take concrete steps to transition matters, responsibility and client contacts to younger partners and associates.
So, here I am, throwing down the gauntlet, hoping to make a feast of my own words. I am sure there will be readers who will doubt my plan, but that will be more an indictment of themselves than of me. I want those of you I know to hold me to it, not just for my sake but for yours and for those who love you. I will certainly be sad, likely will have regrets, when the day comes for me to finally shut down my laptop, to turn off the lights in my office, and to press the down elevator button one last time. But I know there’s a lot out there waiting for me, and none of those things will be measured in tenths of hours.