Recently in Leadership Category

Unfortunately, I've seen, up close and personal, law firms that suffered serious setbacks-or even failed outright-due to what could only be called "failure of succession planning."

What brings this to top-of-mind prominence is of course everyone's obsessive issue namely The Great Reset we're still experiencing, with an environment unlike anything current managing partners and senior leaders have ever seen before. If your firm is soon to be looking towards a new firm chair (by clicking of the term limitation clock or otherwise), you would be extremely well advised to think about succession planning.

A word about term limits: First, I'm of mixed mind about them. Second, I'm against them. Yes, I see and understand the attraction of wanting an institutionalized way to instill fresh blood, and sclerosis is an organization-killer second to almost no other. I have also seen more than one firm blessed by a gifted leader who had to step down after the allotted eight (or whatever) years, only to be succeeded by a relatively inept compromise-choice who at best oversaw a period of treading water for the firm and who at worst led to its actual implosion (no kidding).

But if the incumbent is doing a great job, knows how to do it, remains fresh and energized and challenged by the job, and finally and most importantly continues to maintain the good will and enthusiastic endorsement of the partnership, why stop a good run short? Ultimately, the cure for a super-annuated leader is for someone to challenge them and win. When the time has come, my prediction is reliably that it won't be that hard.

Back to succession planning.

McKinsey has now stoutly weighed in on this evergreen topic, hanging their story on what journalists like to call a "peg":  Ken Lewis' announcement that he would be stepping down as CEO of Bank of America, with no remote plans for an actual successor in sight. And if you're feeling defensive right around now that your firm has no concrete succession plans in place, McKinsey reports that while 84% of directors believe such planning is more important than ever, only half actually have a plan in place.

Here's the diagnosis and, to some extent, the prescription:

So why doesn't succession planning get the attention it deserves? For CEOs, spotting the talent that will eventually replace them can be an unwelcome intimation of executive mortality. For boards, bringing up the succession can feel awkward when things are going well. When they are not, it can feel like a threat. But these are excuses, and not particularly good ones.

When CEO succession is a regular, structured process that forms part of the board's agenda, it becomes a matter of routine, no more sinister than the annual compensation review. In fact, boards should view CEO succession as a strategic process intimately related to corporate performance. To that end, succession planning should include not only the CEO's job but also all mission-critical positions in the organization.

Now, you don't have a "board," but presumably you have an Executive Committee or the functional equivalent. And de-fanging the process by extending it to include all "C-suite" executives and practice group leaders should also help.

The next question is: What are you looking for?

Let's start with your firm's strategy.

You need someone, to state the obvious, who buys into the espoused strategy. With a vengeance: Lip service won't cut it. And you might even want to think about bringing in an outsider for a dispassionate view:

The board and the CEO must therefore agree on the company's future strategy and the competencies it will require and then agree on how they will be assessed and evaluated in the candidate selection process. If succession planning reveals a fundamental misalignment within the senior leadership team, that discovery can be a blessing in disguise if it happens early on.

One Fortune 500 company, for example, engaged an independent third party to interview each of its directors as part of the succession process. It learned that there were diverse opinions among the directors on whether the company should continue to pursue an aggressive acquisition strategy, which had been the primary vehicle for growth, or focus during the next few years on integrating the most recent acquisitions. This finding resulted in an open discussion between the board and the incumbent CEO. In the end, they jointly agreed that while a near-term focus on integration was critical, the company also needed a measured M&A strategy for future growth, and therefore a CEO with proven competence in M&A.

The McKinsey piece goes on to describe whether it's optimal to only look inside the firm (never!) or to explore another option altogether:

The second component requires looking outside the company to map and benchmark the talent market. How do our people compare? Who might be available? Companies that fail to ask these questions can become myopic, thinking that they have the talent they need when they don't.

The day a law firm does this, of course, will be the day we all know that we have truly grown up as a professionally managed and sophisticated industry. Or else we will have lost our souls. Uncharacteristically, I remain on the fence about that. But those of you following at home can think about it.

Lastly, how about a dose of reality about how this is all really done today? And how would that be? By process of elimination, of course. Our next Managing Partner needs to be:

• Not too young and not too old;
• From a significant practice area in the firm;
• From a major office in the firm, if not historical headquarters itself;
• Exceptionally well regarded as a practitioner;
• With a high record of billable hours, origination credits, and business generation;
• Who has mentored some associates who have become successful;
• And who doesn't have significant cohorts of the firm aligned defiantly against him/her.

Once you eliminate folks not able to slip through all of those gates, you generally find yourself with a very short list indeed. Actually, it often has just one name on it.

Scientific it ain't, but that seems to be how we typically do this.

Could we do it better?

Need we do it better?

The next few years will test firms, I submit, as they have never been tested before in living memory.

Succession planning deserves a bit more respect. Just a thought.

Earnings Season is now in full throat, and we're beginning to see a remarkably consistent pattern emerge:

• Revenues essentially flat to down 10%
• Profits flat to slightly down-but PPP flat or even up a bit

I generalize, of course.

But here is some of the evidence (these are randomly selected from more recent releases):

I could go on, but you get the idea. And again, I emphasize that these are random names, selected, frankly, from the latest data I could readily put my hands on. I would like to think a random sample implies it might be statistically representative of a larger universe.

So what do we see?

The first column, revenue, ranges from essentially flat (certainly inflation-adjusted flat) to rather seriously down. This is of course the pole star that management must manage to. It's a rigid, unyielding number, particularly in cash-basis accounting businesses, from which there is no escape in terms of everything else you can try to manage on the expense side of the income statement. More on the implications of this in a moment.

"Net profits," the second column, are pretty much all over the place, but I'm not sure how much information that metric contains, so this doesn't particularly alarm or delight me.

When it comes to RPL, however, faithful readers will know that this is one of my favorite all-purpose law firm "performance" measures. Why? First of all, it's hard to fudge either the numerator or the denominator. (Sure, you can play games with FTE's and so forth, but frankly most firms aren't that focused on this metric to go to the bother.) So what's the RPL story?

To the extent it's disclosed, or calculable, I view RPL as something of a rough proxy for "quality of practice." By that I simply mean that the more clients are willing to pay you, on average, for a lawyer-year's worth of time from your firm, the higher the value clients place on what you do for them. At the margins and in the short run, this may be influenced by tweaking hourly rates or recognition percentages, but over the long run and in extremely revealing ways, the trend of your firm's RPL (vis-a-vis your peer group, as always--discipline, people!), be it up or down or sideways, tells an enormously important and almost incontrovertible story about the trajectory of your practice. You can be going up-market, down-market, or staying-market, but RPL, over time, won't lie.

So again, what does RPL reveal? Pretty simply this: It was a tough year. If you eliminate the highest and the lowest changes in RPL, the remaining cross-section looks like it's down in the middle single digit percentages. The sky is not falling, but people clearly aren't as busy, or aren't as busy on valuable matters, as the previous year. But the most important part of that sentence is the introductory clause: We're not in dire straits.

Finally, of course, column #4, the sexiest column of the all. Permit me to suggest that the PPP story is the second simplest story to tell, after the gross revenue story. Again, eliminating the highest and the lowest to normalize against outliers, the story is one of essentially flat year over year PPP.

The two key numbers come back to this: Revenue flat to seriously down, PPP flat to very mildly down.

Here's where I think law firm management deserves credit (again, generalizing).

Most of corporate America would be delighted to have emerged from 2009, or any difficult period, with revenue decidedly down but profits marginally up. It takes turning the ship quickly. And here's the good news from our industry: We did just that.

If you look at any of the charts tracking layoffs during 2009 (if you haven't, that's OK, I have so you don't have to), more than half the year's total layoffs took place in the first 3 months of the year. In other words, management reacted quickly.

Remember that September 2008 was the carpet-bombing month of damages to the financial system: Not just the Lehman bankruptcy, but the WaMu takeover, largest in history by the FDIC, the death of investment banks as we know them, the BofA/Merrill takeover, the $85-billion AIG investment, the Fannie Mae/Freddie Mac implosions, and even more-all in a single 19 days.

For firms' management, widely if not across the board, to have responded with historically drastic measures one short quarter later is, to me, nothing short of surprising. Management deserves more credit than it may have gotten.

As an industry, we did respond with alacrity. Kudos where kudos are due.

Now, two last thoughts.

First, the human toll of layoffs.

Putting aside partners who were overdue to be "spoken to," non-equity partners who were in place only because of a cowardly preference by their practice group leaders for avoiding awkward conversations, associates who long since "checked out" psychologically and in terms of commitment, and staff who might have come to view their jobs as sinecures--all of whom needed to be excused for the health of the firm overall, and overdue much of it was--there are still the legions of people who were collateral damage. People who were doing their best, even if it wasn't good enough. My heart goes out to them, and I've known more than a few.

But second, the Darwinian logic of the marketplace that compels firms to sustain PPP in the face of the most gruesome downturn in any of our careers is not cavalier and not selfish.

Why is PPP so important?

Because it is nothing less than the lifeblood, in today's currency, of firms' ability to compete for talent in the market. (Whether tomorrow could look different is a story for another day.)

If management allows PPP to take a serious hit in today's hyper-mobile environment, they may find that all of a sudden there are fewer partners and no profits. Lights out. And that, of course, is when the collateral damage to the secretaries with 20 years' service and a learning-disabled child at home hits you between the eyes.

Jack ("Neutron Jack") Welch famously said that his 20/70/10 forced-ranking of stars, the solid bench, and the ankle weights who had to be cut off, was not inhumane. It was the only way to provide a healthy and ever-renewing organizational environment going forward in which the stars and the solid citizens would not be tethered to the subpar and the serving-time.

So looking ahead to 2010, take heart. By and large we did what we had to do at the start of 2009, and the numbers, which overall and in the long run don't lie, are starting to report that story.

The Law Society of England & Wales recently published Nick Jarrett-Kerr's Strategy for Law Firms: After the Legal Services Act, and Nick was kind enough to send me a copy for my perusal. (Disclosure: I've known Nick for years, although we have never formally worked together.)

The contents are wide-ranging, as you can see from these chapter titles:

1. The new world;
2. Understanding your assets;
3. Harnessing intellectual capital: strategies for optimal law firm infrastructures;
4. Understanding positioning and competitive advantage;
5.Developing a value-added strategy;
6. Alternative Business Structures as a tool to implement strategy;
7. Long term funding of law firms;
8. Mergers and acquisitions;
9. Law firm valuation (Michael Roch);
10. Remuneration revisited;
11. Governance, leadership and management in the changing law firm environment;
12. Summary and Prospects.

Although there's been less coverage of the Legal Services Act of late than when it was first being debated and then adopted in the UK (it actually only applies to firms based in England and Wales), I attribute that less to diminishing interest in the LSA than to the simpler reality that once the fireworks of the debate over adoption had concluded, there is little more to say until we see it kick into action (pending adoption of implementing regulations, probably in the next 12--18 months).

But if you feel the urge to prepare in advance, Nick's book will arm you better than anything published so far.

First, here's a bit more on the broad range of what it covers, and then we'll get to the heart of the matter: What Nick thinks that the "Alternative Business Structures" enabled by the Legal Services Act might look like. From the Law Society publications page:

Strategy for Law Firms guides firms through the strategic options available to them and suggests how they might position themselves to succeed in the market.

The book provides a practical approach that is underpinned by sound strategic and academic principles. The author offers insight, drawn from his vast experience of the legal market, on a range of topics including:

• harnessing a firm's intangible resources and capabilities
• competitive positioning
• the creation of a value added strategic plan
• Alternative Business Structures as a tool to implement strategy
• mergers
• law firm funding and valuations, including external funding
• governance
• profit sharing.

The author has created a new framework with which to analyse and assess your firm's position in the market, and identifies and explains 15 possible models of ABS under the new rules.

Although primarily aimed at law firms in the UK, the book is relevant to legal firms around the world.

Of greatest interest to those of us waiting with baited breath to see the fallout when the LSA takes effect is Nick's proposed taxonomy of "Alternative Business Structures:" What, in other words, he theorizes will arise in the next few years. It's fascinating (see Chapter 6 in general, pp. 89--103).

First, Nick posits three reasons a law firm might entertain launching an ABS:

• A strategy for growth and/or diversification may require more capital than the partners care to or could raise internally.
• They may perceive a need to protect or increase market share by becoming part of a bigger brand.
• They may hope that an ABS will give them a vehicle for recognizing the value of capital they implicitly own in the firm.

He then follows with his taxonomy, which is worth elucidating in some detail:

• Business forms mostly owned by lawyers:
  
  
  • Traditional law firms: There is little real doubt this model will continue, as the attraction of minimal non-lawyer involvement in firm governance is altogether real.
    
    
  • Marketing umbrellas: Here Nick envisions a sort of franchise model where operational decisions remain firmly in the hands of the extant partnership but marketing and branding support is provided by a centralized operation. It's hard to imagine this succeeding, however, without some quality standards being imposed so the hope of minimal operational involvement may have a vanishing half-life.
    
    
  • The full franchise: This builds upon #2 by adding centralized guidance and specifications for systems, processes, and standards that franchisees would be obligated to meet or face expulsion. The benefit to the firm joining the franchise is presumably increased exposure and being able to borrow from the halo of assured-quality granted by the franchise name; the cost is typically an initiation fee and a monthly management fee thereafter.
    
    
  • The roll-up. In this familiar technique, investors--who may be outsiders such as private equity or venture funds or who may be industry incumbents seeking growth--buy a series of firms and re-brand them as their own, potentially consolidating significant portions of an industry in the process. To some extent, we have already seen this. If you doubt me, simply look at the New York or London markets: You will have a hard time finding small, attractive, independent law firms still standing. Amost all have been swallowed by out of town firms or indigenous firms bent on growth. (Parentheticaly, this appears to be the primary motivation for Slater & Gordon, the Australian firm which launched its famous first-of-a-kind IPO two years ago.)
    
    
  • The virtual firm: We have already seen examples of this type of firm emerge and given the relentless march of technology--which excels at enabling collaboration at a distance--we will surely see more. One notable entrant that's up and running is Axiom Legal, which provides on-demand teams of lawyers with premium pedigrees to clients without heavy investment in office space or infrastructure.
    
    
  • Legal multi-disciplinary practices: These got an undeserved and unfair black eye about a decade ago when they were seriously proposed here in the US and strangled in their crib by a combination of the ABA's lobbying "FUD" (fear, uncertainty, and doubt) and the untimely implosion of Andersen Legal, which seemed to prove their inherent risks--although, of course, it proved no such thing.
    
    
• Business forms mainly owned externally:
  
  
  • Integrated MDP's: These would combine a division offering legal services with other divisions offering allied service, such as investment or tax advice, real estate brokering, accounting, and even garden-variety investment banking services. The putative rationale is that clients would appreciate one-stop shopping, but as we've seen over the past decade in the experience of financial "supermarkets," the best that can be said about that model is: Unproven. Indeed, Nick admits that it "could prove to be a regulatory and liensing nightmare as the various regulatory bodies for the different professions involved tussle for supremacy."
    
    
  • Externally financed growth: This is probably the classic vision of firms contemplating outside "sugar daddies" who would come in as minority owners, contribute substantial capital, and not demand a controlling or even important voice in management. The concept is that private equity investors (say) would be willing to take relatively passive roles. Don't count on it. In fact, assume that serious private equity investors will demand majority control, period.
    
    
  • Branded conglomerates: This model starts from the reality that the boundaries of what constitutes "legal advice" are porous. What about tax advice from accountants? M&A advice from investment bankers? For that matter, mortgage or real estate investment advice from real estate brokers? The structure envisioned here is a panoply of more or less related services of which classic legal advice is only one, all operating under a single roof and brand name. A logical place to acquire the legal services component of such a conglomerate would, of course, be to buy an existing law firm.
    
    
  • Law Firm, Inc.: The classic law firm IPO, floating itself on the market. Nick, and I, see very few firms going for this option, and probably almost no firms employing people who might be reading this piece right now. But it remains a sexy option, and doubtless some of the undaunted or (if you prefer) the naive and self-aggrandizing, will try it. All I can say is, hold on to your seats.
    
    
  • The integrated legal network: A hub and spoke model where a centralized provider of back office operations and administrative services would feed subsidiaries (the spokes) with cost-effective services benefiting from economies of scale, while allowing each "independent" firm to operate on its own. Of course, independence is here in the eye of the beholder, and without doubt standardized quality control and other relatively intrusive measures would be imposed. It's hard to envision how any non-commodity law firm would find this feudal kingdom an attractive prospect, but for smaller firms honestly recognizing a shortage of pure managerial talent, it could serve a valuable role.
    
    
• Fringe and other models:
  
  
  • Online firms: My friend Richard Susskind has recently outlined what this creature might look like in his The End of Lawyers? In his vision, the future (I should say, and Richard would say, a future) sees a confluence of disruptive technologies providing automated legal services including document assembly, baseline advice, audits, or simple updates on topics of interest to subscribers.
    
    
  • Not-for-profits: Not a "business" model, at all, in the eyes of born-in-the-bone capitalists, but possibly viable for firms that are willing to pay clients enough to cover out of pocket expenses and able to recruit professionals enlisted in the vision of providing services to their worthy target market.
    
    
  • In-house options: Who's to say that in-house departments couldn't decide to offer their industry-specific expertise outside the walls of their corporation? Although the corporation might not see it as a "core competence" (it's not), if it were viewed as free incremental revenue for a resource that had to be maintained in any event, who's to object? Whether they'd be viewed as serious competitors to dedicated private law firms is another question. The more important question, in my mind, is why a corporation would provide top-notch, or even adequate, industry-specific legal advice to other firms that almost by hypothesis are direct competitors? Nick suggests this idea, but I don't know how serious he is. I wouldn't be.

Nick concludes with four predictions, only one of which I will share with you. For the rest, you need to buy the book. The one? "Pressures on margins will intensify.'

If you want to have intelligent plans for dealing with that prediction, not to mention the other three, perhaps your law firm needs a strategy.

Do you occasionally despair of changing the status quo, no matter how irrational it has exposed itself to be, simply because of the vast inertia associated with "the way it is," not to mention the vehemently self-protective behavior of any organization whose importance would be diminished--or, quelle horreur, whose very reason for being would be destroyed--by a move to a new reality?

First of all, despair is a remarkably unproductive approach to most problems.  An optimist at heart, I resist succumbing at all costs, regardless of the odds.

Be that as it may,  I believe the odds have just shifted--dramatically--in favor of ringing the death knell for what has become a toxic, market-poisoning, and increasingly archaic institution:  One which may be a walking antitrust violation to boot.  That would be?

NALP.

Here's how the stars are aligning.

In late December of last year, I decided to write about the defects and vices inherent in the NALP-dictated law student hiring process.  Most of you presumably have not seen my column on this topic, since it appeared in the Adam Smith, Esq. monthly subscriber-only newsletter. 

[If you're wondering what our monthly subscriber-only newsletter is all about, it's quite simple:

The newsletter, distributed by email monthly and archived permanently online at a password-protected site, contains material which has not appeared on this site, the Adam Smith, Esq. online publication, which of course remains free.  By contrast, the newsletter's premium content includes several articles each month which have not been published here and will not be published here.  Annual subscriptions are available at modest rates, including rates for individuals and firms of various sizes.  Firm-wide subscriptions are quite economical on a per capita basis.  You can subscribe here]

Since my views on NALP have not materially changed in the few short weeks since I wrote my original article, permit me to reproduce some of its highlights.

The "Great Reset," as I call it, exposed many latent flaws in the BigLaw business model, which happier, more oblivious, and more affluent times forgave and excused us from having to recognize. (Indeed, many did not recognize them as "flaws" at all; they were simply the honorable traditions of a profession that had always done things the way they were done.)

One of the most irrational was the excruciatingly long lead time between committing to hiring what would, de facto, be incoming associates, and knowing what the actual marketplace demand for additional young lawyers at your firm would be when they finally joined, years later.

Consider the timeline:

• Can you project the demand for new starting lawyers three years hence? Well, that's precisely what you were expected to do. And for long enough, it didn't really matter. But here's how it works:
• Given the highly significant datum of first year law school grades (sorry, lost my head), your firm interviews these 1L's late in the summer before they start their second year, making them offers to be summer associates one year hence.
• After they become summer associates, it is of course one more year before they'll start.
• Unless they clerk for a year--and we like people who clerk!--in which case add a year.

So when you were projecting the demand you'd have for new lawyers in September 2009, you had all the data you needed--given that it was summer 2007 and not Ben Bernanke, not Hank Paulson, not Warren Buffett, not anyone in sight, knew what was coming.

Clearly, this works splendidly:  Assuming, that is, that your firm and law students alike enjoy canceled and postponed offers, the prospect of a "pileup" next year as this year's deferred grads run into the new crop, the drastic measure of some firms' simply "taking a year off" recruitment altogether, and the manifestly open question of whether deferred start dates may not turn into canceled start dates.

While corporate America has moved relentlessly towards "just in time" supply chains, we seem to be stuck in the prehistoric past. Are MBA's hired this way? (No, to state the obvious--if they were, they'd be hired before they even started business school.) BA's? No. Ph.D.'s? No. So why JD's?

One word: NALP.

NALP was founded in 1971 and, like many organizations well past their first generation, it's showing signs of having lost sight of its mission.

What are the symptoms of this?

For starters, organizations tend to become more and more self-referential as they enter senescence. Exhibit A: The NALP"History" page devotes a good three-quarters of its space to recounting the original members present at the 1971 founding, the locations of every annual meeting, and all the past presidents. Not a word about changes in the legal marketplace over the past half-century and how NALP has responded.

Exhibit B: It has five-year strategic plans.

Exhibit C: It has a "Mission" (bad initial sign), the introductory paragraph to which reads in full:

"NALP is dedicated to facilitating legal career counseling and planning, recruitment and retention, and the professional development of law students and lawyers."

What's wrong with that?

Simply that I have never, in a lifetime of working in law firms, in-house, and now as an analyst of and consultant to the industry, ever heard a single soul mention NALP in connection with any of those activities. They may think that's their mission but, to be charitable, they are flying under everyone's radar.

But all this is really unfair, because it's too easy.

Here's the real horror about NALP: Its reaction to this seismic shock our industry has been going through for 18 months (with no convincing signs that we're out of the woods).

Faced with:

• The highest level of layoffs since reporting began was in 2009. Worse than that, actually: More layoffs occurred in 2009 than in all prior years combined.
• Numerous failures of "name-brand" firms with, I predict, more to come.
• Soup-to-nuts re-evaluations of associate career paths.
• Soup-to-nuts re-evaluations of alternative billing.
• Soup-to-nuts re-evaluations of outsourcing, "staff" and "contract" lawyers.
• Widespread firings of non-equity partners and de-equitizations of full partners

Yes, faced with all this, once-in-a-career events each and every one, NALP's response was? This past July, to reaffirm its principles absolutely without change, amendment, or even sober relaxation of them in a time of crisis.

Here, specifically, is what they said:

Nevertheless, after weighing a variety of options, the Board is convinced that this is not the time to abandon or change the ethical guidelines that direct our professional expectations and behavior, and we urge all NALP members to adhere to the Principles and Standards.

These are the unmistakable indicia of an organization utterly out of touch with reality and resolutely determined to elevate the sanctity of its own pronouncements above the well-being of those it supposedly serves.

One thing has changed since I wrote those words, namely that on January 7, 2010 the NALP "Commission on Recruiting in the Legal Profession" released a report containing recommendations for changes to the annual recruiting season, the core of which is to prohibit any offers of employment to 2L's until sometime in January, the so-called "Offer Kick-Off Day."  Further, offers extended on the OKOD would remain open for 14 days.   Bear in mind that interviewing would still occur in August, but that firms would be forbidden from "signalling" their interest in any individual student for nearly the next six months until OKOD.

All of this to be enforced by an elaborate and draconian system of law schools' concertedly threatening to boycott offending firms--charmingly called "cheaters," and tagged as engaging in "unethical" conduct.

While I am only an armchair and not remotely an expert antitrust practitioner, Jones Day recently submitted Comments to NALP (the 8-page letter available here, which I commend to you in its entirety) not only attacking the logic, fairness, and even feasibility of the revised NALP proposals, but also making a compelling prima facie case that the proposal is deeply suspect as a matter of law, constituting a concerted refusal to deal or group boycott.  Greg Shumaker, Jones Day's hiring partner, who authored the letter--and who I was able to interview on the phone about this--writes:

In any other industry, this would immediately be perceived as suspect under the antitrust laws.  Efforts by associations and professional organizations to "regulate" competition among themselves have been found to violate the antitrust laws in numerous contexts.  [Citations omitted.] 

Given the adverse effects on competition and on law students, the Report's proposals, if agreed to by law schools and firms and challenged by an appropriate plaintiff, could well be found to be an illegal restraint of trade. [Page 6 of the cited letter.]

While Greg told me, as of the time of our conversation (a few days ago), that no other large firms had expressly offered support, I have to believe more will get onboard as they think through the actual ramifications of the proposed NALP rules.

Indeed, in an opinion piece published today in The National Law Journal, Peter Kalis, the chairman and global managing partner of K&L/Gates, characteristically minces no words in his denunciation of NALP:  Indeed, the title of Pete's column is the pungent and terse, "Abolish NALP Now."  (Disclosure:  I consider Pete a friend.)

NALP is, and for some time has been, a market imperfection -- no more and no less. For the common good, it should be abolished, and we should start from scratch.

Consider some elements of the NALP-enabled hiring regime:

• Employers meet on campus with law students for 20 to 30 minutes. What can you learn about a candidate in a 20- to 30-minute interview except whether he or she drools? What can you learn about a law firm except whether the interviewer is an imbecile?

• At many law schools, employers can't prescreen their interviewees. In some instances, employers are not permitted to see transcripts in advance. At times, employers are required to interview students who don't even rate the employer as a likely destination.

• Because of the importance of law firm summer programs, interviews and hiring decisions are essentially made two years in advance of a start date and after two semesters of legal education.

• Offers are required to be open for 45 days. Employers interview law students in August, invite them to visit, extend an offer after the visit and then keep the offer open until November or December. The 45-day requirement deadens a market that should be dynamic and highly interactive.

• From the students' standpoint, the system allows stars to hoard offers, freezes employers in place and deprives the market of the fluidity necessary to operate efficiently.

In the past couple of years, the Great Recession impeded the orderly flow of law students into the profession. Law firms scrutinized their business models, including their hiring assumptions. It was a time for nimbleness on all sides if the interests of law students and employers were to be served. Yet the NALP-enabled system -- including, inexplicably, rigid adherence to the 45-day requirement -- plodded woodenly along in fall 2009 to the detriment of all concerned.

Pete writes that he "earlier passed on [his thoughts] to NALP," and discusses further irrational elements of the new NALP proposal:

• Although no formal offers could issue before the January date, firms could give "winks and nods" to their top choices starting with interviews the prior August. Law students would have a sense of which firms will extend offers to them, unless, of course, law firms wink and nod indiscriminately to keep options open.

• This would create an intensely competitive but sloppy and confusing recruitment atmosphere resulting in weeks and even months of wining and dining and follow-up visits, a substantial increase in the cost of recruiting and more disruption to legal education and students' personal lives. To what end? Competition for jobs and talent should focus on finding where the merits and aspirations of the student and employer intersect, not on shock-and-awe campaigns. There should be a rational relationship between energy expended and insights gained on both sides.

• Students would be distracted by the longer time period in which to sort through employment choices for the following summer. Can it be good for law schools and law students that the entire first semester through examinations would be spent in the recruitment orgy?

• The most stellar candidates would await and receive offers from multiple firms, and, with no contrary incentive, those students would be unlikely to withdraw from consideration before the January date or to release a single offer after the January date.

• Prior to the 14-day acceptance deadline, candidates could accept offers and then withdraw their acceptances when they have an offer they desire more. This would cause an administrative nightmare and would hamper firms' efforts to achieve the appropriate class sizes and yield.

From the perspective of a simple economist, the most profound flaw in NALP's unilaterally imposed scheme is precisely the one Pete identifies, and which Greg Shumaker also discusses:  The sheer unreality, given human nature and the essence of competitive markets for talent, of expecting there to be no signalling between August and January.

But of course there will be signalling.  Not only will there be signalling, there should be every reason to encourage it.

Of course, once one admits that signalling in this artificially constrained timeframe makes perfect economic and competitive sense, then taking the next step is both trivial and inevitable:  Why resort to the imperfect mechanism of signalling (sometimes signals are misinterpreted, after all, not to mention that they require inordinate investments of time, energy, and funds in utterly unproductive activity, a deadweight loss all the way around)?  Why not just make the offer?

My own suggestion is that firms do just this.

As I wrote in December:

So what's to be done?

It's actually quite simple: Starting tomorrow, ignore any and all NALP guidelines and so-called "principles."

Clearly, NALP has become a toxic organization that:

• Straitjackets law firms into economically unworkable timelines;
• Forces law school career centers and deans to toe an unrealistic line which only discredits their opportunity to be of real service in a dynamic economy; and
• Most shameful of all, puts defenseless law students in absolutely untenable positions.

Hard to do, you say?

I ask: Who elected these guys, anyway? Who on earth do they think they are?

In one of our recent First Lady's immortal words, "Just say no!"

And what, then, of next recruiting season?

Simple:

Where: Rent a hotel suite just off-campus at schools you want to target, or simpler still, invite students straight to your offices if you have a location in the same city as a school you're recruiting at.

When: Whenever you are good and ready, and the market will tell you as much.

Why: To retake control over the indispensable pipeline of supply--talent--that is all you have to offer your clients in the future.

When an organization has manifestly outlived its usefulness, when it arrogates to itself the single-handed power to attempt to subvert the orderly workings of a critical marketplace for talent, and when it evinces not the remotest understanding of the folly of its proposals, that organization must die.

My December article had the same title as this column, but Pete's title is pithier:

Abolish NALP.  Now.

Fourteen years ago, Greenberg Traurig wasn't in the AmLaw 100, and today it's  #10. Their CEO during this entire period--until he stepped down lastweek--was Cesar Alvarez, now age 62. When he became CEO of the firm, it was a "small but prestigious Miami law firm known for corporate and real estate," according to this interview with the Miami Herald, and now is 1,750 lawyers in 30 offices with annual revenue of $1.2-billion.

But you know this. That's not why I'm writing.

When someone with Cesar's perspective and accomplishments steps down, it's worth listening. (Naysayers in the audience--and I know you're out there, admit it!--who think that the Greenberg Traurig model is intrinsically flawed, or that it's a flash in the pan, or that it's unsustainable, or that it's [insert miscellaneous pejorative here], just stay with me. We all know GT is a "polarizing" firm, in that people tend to love it or hate it. That's a topic for another day.)

So let's listen for a moment.

He said two things that struck me:

• "Without our blind compensation system [only Cesar knows what each partner earns], we never would have been able to build this firm;" and
  
  
• "Q: What do you know now that you wish you knew years ago?
  
  "A: How important the culture of a firm is. Sometimes people tell you how critical culture is. When I started, I said culture is a nice thing, but unless you drive success, culture won't mean anything. In fact, I know now that it is the opposite. You need to drive the culture, and culture will drive success."

How could a "blind" compensation system ever work? Isn't more disclosure, more "transparency," today's Holy Grail? Well, not so fast.  As Warren Buffett has famously said:

Our experience is that envy, rather than greed, is the key driver. If you give someone a $2 million bonus but their co-worker got $2.1 million, they're miserable. Of the seven deadly sins, envy is the most useless - it makes you miserable and you lose a lot of sleep.

I couldn't agree more (with Warren, if I'm not yet entirely convinced by Cesar). Few things are more corrosive than the envy of small differences, and we all know that the most visceral rivalries are local.

Does that mean the "blind," cone of silence, system is necessarily right for your firm? Not at all. The answer to that depends on the historic path your firm has taken. For sure, if it's always had an open and "transparent" system, now, and perhaps not ever, is the time to change. But if there's needless neck-biting and back-stabbing thanks to minimal differences in compensation, you might start thinking about migrating in that direction.

But enough on that.

The truly fascinating comment of Cesar's was his about culture, and its primacy over financial performance.

In this environment, people are who are considering lateral moves are not considering them because of, or certainly not only because of, financial performance, but almost exclusively because of culture--the compelling lack thereof.

But "culture" is too often confused with such bland bromides as "collegiality," "support," and "team spirit."

Evidently, that's not what culture means to Cesar, although he doesn't explicitly make the connection. Culture, to Cesar, is a culture of high performance.

First, as to internal expectations (and forgive the extended quote, but it's required to deliver the context and import) (emphasis supplied):

Q: If a young associate comes to talk to you about work life balance, what do you say to him?

A: When I was an associate I wanted to do as many deals as I could as a corporate securities lawyer. I worked a lot of hours: Monday though Sunday. Ultimately you have to sell two things -- for the client to trust you as human being and as a lawyer. If you haven't been at these deals you won't be able to sell yourself to the client. My point to young associates is you have to invest in yourself. What you get paid in the first few years is insignificant.

Today associates want the outside life. You have to remember they have to choose to lead the life of a lawyer, not be here to have the lifestyle of a lawyer. If they want lifestyle without being a real lawyer it will not work long term. It's a business that requires a lot of experience.

Q: Does it require major personal sacrifice to be good lawyer today?

A: Absolutely. Nothing has changed from that perspective. This is difficult profession, period. It requires a lot of time and effort. There are wonderful rewards, but you cannot substitute time and effort, not when someone else is putting in the time and effort.

Many associates still don't believe it. Now they are feeling the recession, the uncertainty. They have never felt the uncertainty. They have always been in a system that rewarded them again and again even when their hours were going down.

Q: Have you seen a change in attitude?

A: Definitely. They realize they are lucky to have a job and are more focused on what they need to do to have their career.

And second, in terms of client expectations:

Q: Do you think the legal profession as a whole will address client expectations brought about because of technology?

A: I think you have to be connected to the client all the time. We're in the business of solving problems. Problems aren't just legal issues. The great lawyers know how to handle problems. You want to be an advisor, not just a technical lawyer. You have to spend time understanding the business of client. You have to invest time and stay connected.

Finally, he has some shockingly clear-eyed observations, firmly grounded in economics, on what's going to happen to the next few years of law graduates and young associates. Specifically, when asked what's going to happen with the "tremendous number of unemployed lawyers," he responds with a clarity worthy of Adam Smith:

The economy deals with supply and demand. The adjusting mechanism is price -- what they will be willing to be employed at and what we can charge a client for them. Once that comes into balance again, you will have a different issue. [...]

If I were a young lawyer and displaced from a large firm, I would be going into one of new areas and be at the ground floor. I'd be learning energy policy and how it works. A few years from now you will become very valuable to law firms. You could come back at a high level if you focus on areas that are new. Firms will always be buying expertise.

So:

• Consider the corrosive effects of envy.
• Economics matter, but a high-performance culture matters more.
• And this profession demands hard work: Always has, always will.

And one last consummately clear-eyed Cesar-ism (from a personal conversation, not this article): When asked about the PPP arms' race, he cogently observed: "The only thing that matters is profits per me."

Thanks, Cesar.

If we were in Corporate Land, this would be the beginning of earnings reporting season, with the close of the customary calendar year-fiscal year for most of BigLaw.

It's too early to draw any statistically solid conclusions about what 2009 looked like overall, but sometimes a report raises so many more questions than it answers that it begs for a bit of comment, analysis, and "deconstruction," if you will.

That would surely appear to be the case with Sonnenschein's reporting.

Here's the headline, from The American Lawyer:

Profits per equity partner dropped 3 percent at Sonnenschein Nath & Rosenthal in 2009, according to figures reported by the firm late Thursday, and gross revenue was flat. PPP fell from $804,000 in 2008 to $780,000 last year. Gross slipped from $473 million in 2008 to $472.5 million, according to the firm.

So far, so innocuous. But if you read a bit more carefully, there's more to the story.

First of all, Sonnenschein added 100 lawyers from Thacher Proffitt effective January, 2009. To add 100 lawyers and be "very pleased" that gross revenue was flat must establish some new apogee or highwater mark in redefining "the new normal."

Second, the decline in RPL (using an apples-to-apples, same accounting method comparison, of which more momentarily) is -11%. This is can only be viewed as a quite negative indicator which suggests the firm, despite going through three rounds of personnel cuts in the past 18 months, may not yet be "right-sized" or certainly is not achieving pre-bust utilization rates.

Third, PPP dropped more than 12% in 2009 vis-a-vis 2008, and now we are told it dropped another 3%. But I understand that partners have been told that cash distributions to them are off 19%. This doesn't quite compute if PPP is actually down just 3%, unless something strange is going on with "cash."

Which brings us--fourth--to the weirdest and most inexplicable part of the Sonnenschein news (emphasis supplied):

The firm also restated its 2008 gross revenue numbers Thursday. Last year the firm reported $492 million in gross revenue in 2008, but yesterday Sonnenschein lowered that figure to $473 million. The firm attributed the discrepancy between the two figures to a change in accounting. Sonnenschein previously reported gross revenue on an accrual basis, but now reports it on a cash basis...

This is a firm founded in 1906, which has used Arthur Andersen and now McGladry Pullen as accountants. Why would this be the year they would change accounting methodology? I have no inside information as to why that might be the case, but it strikes me as oddly convenient that the change in stated 2008 gross revenue from $492-million to $473-million quite nicely enables them to say that revenue in 2009 was "flat" at $472.5-million.

Well, aren't revenues revenues? And isn't the cash basis more rigorous than the accrual basis? Yes, and yes.

First, I for one can't imagine advising a client to "restate" revenues, any more than I can imagine restating a budget once it's set. You can miss the budget or exceed the budget, but the budget is the budget. In my book, rewriting history just shouldn't be done, however tempting it might be to succumb to the desire.  States that do this are rightly accused of Kremlinology.

And second, as for whether cash recognition of revenues is more disciplined than accrual, the short answer is of course it is. You either have the check in hand by midnight December 31st or you don't. No squishiness or wiggle room to that. No woulda-coulda-shoulda.

But ponder for a moment the other side of the Income & Expense statement: Expenses. If you were recognizing expenses on an accrual basis (conservative accounting), but now you only recognize them on a cash basis (more aggressive accounting), voila, I can virtually guarantee you that reported profits will go up. (At least as a one-time shot, but that's a story for another day.)

Now, please understand: I have no brief against Sonnenschein in the least, and I wish the firm, its clients, its partners, associates, staff, and their many dependents all the best in these times of unprecedented difficulty.

Sometimes, however, you have to look behind the story. If there are innocent and plausible explanations for all of this, I welcome them and will publish any comments I receive as updates to this piece (assuming the writers' permission).

In the meantime, take what you read with a grain of salt. Or better yet, a nod to critical thinking.

The link to the American Lawyer article on Sonnenschein's reporting appears to be intermittently broken, so here's the original article. If I've offended "fair use," I apologize forthwith to the American Lawyer but the thing about the Web is that links should work.

The Am Law 100:
Sonnenschein Profits Drop 3 Percent

The American Lawyer

By Ross Todd

January 22, 2010

Profits per equity partner dropped 3 percent at Sonnenschein Nath & Rosenthal in 2009, according to figures reported by the firm late Thursday, and gross revenue was flat. PPP fell from $804,000 in 2008 to $780,000 last year. Gross slipped from $473 million in 2008 to $472.5 million, according to the firm.

"[The] bottom line for us is that we are very pleased with the performance in view of the substantial investment we made in January of 2009 to add 100 new lawyers from Thacher Proffitt," Sonnenschein chair Elliott Portnoy said via e-mail Thursday. Portnoy (pictured at right) was traveling and unavailable for a phone interview.

Last year marked the second straight year of lower profits at Sonnenschein; PPP dropped more than 12 percent to $804,000 in 2008. The firm also restated its 2008 gross revenue numbers Thursday. Last year the firm reported $492 million in gross revenue in 2008, but yesterday Sonnenschein lowered that figure to $473 million. The firm attributed the discrepancy between the two figures to a change in accounting. Sonnenschein previously reported gross revenue on an accrual basis, but now reports it on a cash basis to match the method it uses to report net distribution to partners. The change in accounting affects Sonnenschein's revenue per lawyer numbers. The firm reported Thursday a drop of 7 percent from $778,000 in 2008 to $722,000 in 2009. When using the numbers the firm reported last year, the drop in RPL is 11 percent from $808,000 to $722,000.

Part of the RPL drop can be attributed to Sonnenschein's boost in head count. The firm grew from 608 lawyers in 2008 to 654 in 2009. On January 1, 2009, Sonnenschein added 100 lawyers from New York's Thacher Proffitt & Wood, including 40 partners. The hires--the largest lateral group the firm has taken on--nearly doubled the size of Sonnenschein's New York office.

The Thacher Proffitt lawyers brought with them a $500,000 contract awarded in December 2008 by the U.S. Department of the Treasury to advise on its investments in the Federal Reserve's Term Asset-Backed Securities Loan Facility (TALF). In March, Sonnenschein was chosen along with Cadwalader Wickersham & Taft and Haynes and Boone to advise the Treasury Department on its role in last year's auto industry restructurings. The auto industry contract carried a ceiling value of $8.59 million.

Sonnenschein, like many firms last year, also employed a number of cost-cutting measures. The firm cut associate compensation in June and announced in December that it would roll out a new merit-based associate compensation structure in early 2010. In September the Am Law Daily's colleagues at The National Law Journal reported that the firm cut about 30 lawyers, including 10 income partners--the third series of personnel cuts at the firm in an 18-month period.

This report is part of The Am Law Daily's ongoing Web coverage of The Am Law 100's 2009 financials. Results are preliminary. Final rankings and full results for The Am Law 100 will be published in The American Lawyer's May 2010 issue and on AmericanLawyer.com. The Am Law Second Hundred will be published in the June issue.

Before it's too late to miss the brief window of opportunity for prognostications about the New Year, here's one more.

But first, let's back up a bit.

By almost anyone's lights, 2009 was dreadful for our beloved industry, even appalling. According to LawShucks, BigLaw laid off (read: fired) 12,196 people, of whom 4,633 were lawyers and 7,563 were staff. This, of course, ignores the reality that layoffs are surely under-reported.

Ugly enough, and the raw statistics don't remotely speak to the genuine, and too often borderline-tragic, realities of defenseless professionals finding themselves "redundant" (as the Brits either charmingly or bureaucratically term it), highly talented and expensively educated one and all. Worse, these people find themselves on the curb for reasons that either had nothing really to do with their performance or, if it was tagged to performance, for demerits that would probably not have had fatal repercussions a year or more ago.

For better or worse, that's not what I want to talk about here.

Adam Smith, Esq. is about the economics of law firms, and that's our topic.

Everyone, I believe, long ago wrote off 2009 in their own minds as far as financial rewards go.

• Associates are inured to salary freezes or even rollbacks.
• Staff expect the same.
• Everyone but everyone expects bonuses to be downsized compared to last year.
• Many non-equity partners, as far as I can tell, count themselves lucky to still be onboard.
• And of course, equity partners expect PPP to be flat to down anywhere from 5% to 25% or more. (You've heard the joke that "flat is the new up?" Chase Bank is rolling out a new campaign that "save is the new spend." Can you say "The End of History-- I don't think so."? This new mantra is foreign matter to the American DNA, and will be rejected by the host if it seriously attempts to implant itself in our expectations.)

Financial results for 2009 are, of course, just beginning to trickle out, and if past disappointing years are any guide--none of course remotely comparable to this--firms will not be rushing to punch the "send" button to announce their figures. Indeed, as is our wont, we will want the aircover of other firms announcing bad or worse numbers before we try to sidle our news into the media slipstream around 5:00 pm on a Friday before a holiday weekend.

But 2009 is not really on the agenda any more. We know about 2009 ad nauseum, we're done and we don't want, frankly, to hear much about it any more.

Which brings us to 2010.

I don't know about you, but I can take one bad year in stride. We all would prefer not to have to face a bad year, but as long as everyone in sight is more or less in the same boat, you can live with yourself, roll with the punch, and wax philosophical about the arc of a 40-year career.  Your spouse, family, friends, and professional colleagues will all understand.

Not so for 2010. People will want to know why 2010 will be different, and better. This is a potentially perilous topic.

A few fortunate firms will be reporting results that are on par or even better with 2008. But I predict the vast majority will be down on year-on-year comparisons, certainly in terms of reported PPP and even more certainly in terms of internally realized and distributed PPP. At too many firms, capital calls are up, distributions are delayed, and the future is unclear.

The most important question as we enter 2010 is very simple: "What now?" And "Why different and better?" This is the question that will be coming from your partners, associates, and staff as we grind out of the repercussions of late 2008 and 2009.

What's your answer?

The answer had best be persuasive, credible, and, perhaps most difficult, consistent with who your firm is and what has gone heretofore. You can't realistically turn the place around if that means making it something it never was, never ought to be, and isn't what your people signed up for.

In other words, the priority for senior management for 2010 is not just "making the numbers"--challenging as that will surely be--it's giving people a reason to believe.

Why will 2010 be better? How, exactly? How does this fit my image and vision of the firm? Not just how does it advance my career, but how is it something I can buy into, hearts and minds? "Trust us" as a response won't cut it.

And if you get this wrong?

I predict 2010, not 2009, will be the big year of shakeouts in the composition of the leading firms--and I mean that across the board, whether you define your peer group of competitive and therefore "leading" firms as the Global 50, the AmLaw 50, the AmLaw 200, or regional firms in your local market.

The dynamics are fairly simple: People wrote off 2009, but they're not prepared to write off 2010.  By "2010" I really mean the foreseeable future of their fortunes at your firm.  If this was the "Great Reset," then you should have re-booted, re-imagined, and re-invigorated your firm by about this time.  If you haven't, "2010" really means "as far as the eye can see."

In turn, people's  faith in how 2010 may turn out at your firm depends on their faith in the strategic vision of the firm. Is it credible? Ownable? Distinctive? Why, again, is 2010 going to be better than 2009?  

If you don't have a compelling answer to that, be prepared for bad news on the people front.  We often say it, but sometimes the obvious is worth repeating:  Within five or ten city blocks of your offices (all of them), there are probably two dozen buildings containing 50 or 60 elevator banks leading to the reception areas of major competitors.  How hard is it, really, for someone to choose another elevator bank?

At the outset, I promised you a prediction for 2010. At the risk of your revisiting this in January 2011 and finding what follows utterly wrong (Adam Smith, Esq., on principle, never deletes anything from our archives), it's simple:

• We will see more firms fail;
• And more "surprising" firms fail;
• More firms merge;
• And more"surprising" mergers

in 2010 than we have in a long long time.  Economics may be the proximate cause, but a failure of vision and belief will be the core cause.

Happy New Year.

As we embark on a brave new year, I thought it condign treatment of 2009 and what lies beyond to spend a few moments on the broader view, and, more specifically, what industries may and may not survive the post-Internet, and more broadly the post-digitalization of life, future.

One could write books about this--several folks already have--so I will perforce be very abbreviated in my treatment of this, but I would hope a theme emerges. And of course this comes with the customary and obligatory caveat that it's all my surmise at this moment in time, lacking the foresight to imagine what the creative genius of our entrepreneurial classes will bring forth.

Won't survive

• Newspapers
• General interest magazines lacking extraordinary quality (yes, this excepts The New Yorker, The Atlantic, and a handful of others)
• Landline phones
• Fax machines
• Hard copies of all forms of entertainment--music, TV, movies (everything will be rented or streamed, although purists may hang onto printed books between covers for the incredible and still unsurpassed utility of their form factor, not to mention the symbolism of bookshelves [I probably count myself a purist])
• The following, as we know them today:
  • Realtors
  • Stock brokers
• Network TV
• Virtually any single-purpose piece of hardware:  GPS devices, calculators, and, I predict, Kindles and e-book readers.  It's simply way too cheap and appealing to add functions once one has the basic slab with a screen, a processor, and some memory.

I doubt any of these is terribly surprising.

Will survive, but in drastically changed form

• Car dealers
• Many point-of-sale services
  • We shall see the drastic integration of online and store sales
  • Ticket takers at cultural and sports events have seen their ranks cut by 90% as hand-held bar code scanners replace ripping and returning; while we're at it, when was the last time you actually bought a ticket--any ticket--from a human being at a box office?
  • Airline kiosks have supplanted counter attendants
• Banking and financial services
  • Including insurance and mortgage brokering.

I also think these are also relatively commonplace observations.

Will be oblivious

• Healthcare (digitalization of patient records will come, eventually, to be sure, but it won't fundamentally transform, much less threaten, the industry or anyone employed in it)
• Travel (not travel agents--the travel industry itself)
• Construction (hard to outsource or do "virtually")
• Utilities (same)
• Agriculture and mining (same)
• Oil and natural gas (same)
• Manufacturing of durable goods, including most importantly cars, trucks, and industrial equipment: Sometimes metal needs to be bent and people and goods need to move, and we don't yet have Star Trek teleportation in place
• Education (imagine making your Contracts 1st-year course a Webinar? I didn't think so)
• Essentially all of government:
  • Local (police, fire, traffic, zoning, water and sewer)
  • State (regulatory, welfare, Medicaid)
  • Federal (Defense, State, Treasury, etc.--run down the Cabinet list in historic chronological order)
• Personal care: Barbers, salons, manicurists, health clubs, personal trainers, spas
• Home and office maintenance: Cleaning services and maids, nannies, doormen, and all contractors and handymen--plumbers, electricians, carpenters, painters, etc.
• Sports
• And lastly, one of my favorites, the performing and visual arts.

What's most noteworthy about this last list to me is what an enormous slice of the economy it represents. And what a relatively trivial portion is represented by the first and even the second lists.

Which brings me to the point: The repercussions of the digitalization of the world may have been overblown.

I'm not a social psychologist and have less than zero desire to become one, so I won't attempt to hypothesize why so much ink has been spilled on the supposed topsy-turvy world we're plunging into, like it or not, but I would suggest you take another look at the people who work for industries in my first "won't survive" list, and I'll suggest what they have in common: They own the printing presses and buy those barrels of ink. (I buy gigabytes of server storage, but that's a separate matter.)

So what has this to do with Law Land?

I look at the lists presented above and ask what industries we are most like. Before I give you my thoughts, you might want to glance up and take another look.

I think we're some continually evolving combination of education, financial/medical adviser, and hands-on personal care.

How so?

Education, as a role for us, should I hope be obvious. We educate our clients, we are or at least want to be known as a "learned profession," and we have, actually, access to knowledge that the proverbial man on the street does not. We don't just rent this knowledge out to our clients, we should impart it so it becomes their own.

Financial/medical advisers are people to whom we entrust (one hopes) our every secret, hope, and fear. We should serve the same function. Too often, of course, we fall short, accepting superficial explanations from clients about what they want to achieve without delving deeper to truly understand their business objectives in the larger contextual scheme of things. We should be able to provide them with various roadmap's, decision trees, alternative ways of pursuing their objectives, with lesser and greater ratios of return and reward.

Hands-on personal care? Yes, because there is no substitute for being there. The more amazing technology and collaboration-at-a-distance becomes (what the Web, ultimately, is all about), the more important face to face personal meetings are. (This, incidentally, is why I'm long-term bullish on such global cities as New York, London, and Hong Kong.) The more people you know "virtually," the more you want to meet them in person.

Which should be something we do well.

Often, the value of hands-on care is underestimated when it comes to so-called commodity practices such as real estate transactions, employment law, and background-noise litigation. You underestimate the value of this at your risk.

Think that divorce or employment law are "commodity" practices that don't require sensitive and nuanced practitioners?  Try telling that to the wronged spouse who suddenly finds themself living in a trailer, or the 55-year-old assembly line worker laid off in Detroit. 

Clients still want to meet you, get to know you, feel you're in command and know your stuff; this can to this day only be done one on one.  No one in Bangalore can help.

Finally, a word on outsourcing: It's here to stay. Foreign or domestic, owned or rented by your firm, it is a wave (not the wave, but a wave) of the future. Get used to it. Baseline document review, legal research, perhaps even generic witness prep will be conducted by people who are not junior associates on your firm's payroll. This is simply reality. But is it a fundamental change in your business model? I hope your business model wasn't entirely premised on the role of junior associates.

Again, is the digitalization of everything an existential threat to us? I leave you to draw your own conclusions, but I think not.

Thoughts for 2010 and beyond.

Many have been the descriptors proposed for the period we've been living through since about the middle of 2007, but few strike me as more apt than "turbulence." Why?

• Turbulence implies unconscious, or at least unintended, forces at work causing the disruption;
• Turbulence is unforeseeable, both from a distance, and locally, while one is in the midst of it;
• Turbulence is unpredictable; it doesn't rise and fall in a convenient sine-wave pattern, it ebbs, flows, circles, eddies and creates water-spouts, becomes violent and quiescent.

And most importantly, it's almost impossible to "train for" turbulence. The best one can do is try to keep one's head while all around are losing theirs.

This brings me to Don Sull's recently published The Upside of Turbulence: Seizing Opportunity in an Uncertain World. Don is a professor of strategy at the London Busness School and--full disclosure--someone I count a friend. He also writes a regular column for The Financial Times.

Don begins by disabusing us of the notion that the current economic crisis is our first or our only encounter with turbulence. Instead, he posits that it's been on the rise for 20 or 30 years. By one measure (the likelihood that a firm will be knocked off its leadership position), turbulence increased three-fold. The frequency of currency or economic crises has increased four-fold.

What's driving this?

Primarily, the accelerating integration of the world. Technology now diffuses worldwide in utter disregard of "national" borders (what a quaint concept indeed, China's censoring of Google notably notwithstanding). According to Don, one-third of the world's population that was not heretofore part of the market economy has recently entered it.

How should leaders respond?

Let's start, perhaps, with how they should not--but how they typically do--respond. By digging in their heels.

Well, to be fair, we can be a bit more nuanced than that. Many organizations confronted with turbulence decide, perhaps not unreasonably on the surface, to dig down and do what they've always done best, only do it better.

So the world is changing a lot, you see the changes coming. You've got the data, McKinsey or somebody else helps you to get your arms around what's happening. And instead of changing what you're doing, you just step on the gas, spin the wheels harder, and hope to get out of the rut. Usually you end up digging yourself deeper.

This is what Don memorably calls "active inertia."

Another response is to try to focus especially hard on the telescope in order to predict the future, in the belief that if you just "squint hard enough" you'll be able to accurately anticipate the future.

Get real. (That's my advice.) Don is a bit more diplomatic:

"I'll be able to see through this foggy future. I'll be able to predict what's going to happen. I'll know what to do." That's just not going to happen. The record of people's predictions in business, or in any domain, is very, very poor. And as turbulence increases, the effectiveness of that approach decreases.

The final trap is trying to do what everyone else is doing. Now he's talking our language. As he succinctly puts it, if you're mimicking firms that are making the wrong responses, "it's unlikely that you're going to have a better outcome than they do." This observation of course is first cousin to Einstein's famous quip that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again while hoping for a different outcome.

What, then, is to be done?

Be agile. Easier said than done, I know (and I've counseled agility myself). "Agility" is simply the ability to identify, and then seize, opportunities more quickly than your peer set. I've analogized it to running a race, where winners are dependent on native running ability, to be sure (but you have that, right?), but even more so on situational awareness of your competitors, seeing opportunities (a flagging competitor, or the fact that you're 200 yards from the finish and feeling strong), and taking advantage. But "seizing" the opportunity is apt, because in moments it will be gone.

We measure business opportunities in months or conceivably years, not moments, but the principle is the same.

First, you can be "agile" within your own operations: This is Toyota, or the Six Sigma god-head in general. Get smarter about what you do best, and do it better still.

Second, you can change your own firm's portfolio mix: Pull back from geographies and practice areas that may have outlived their usefulness (if they ever had a usefulness--topic for another day), and invest the saved resources in what you think the growth areas will be. Be attuned, in short, to opportunity costs.

Third, be strategically agile. Downturns provide, among other things, the opportunity to buy assets (office leases, most importantly talent) at below what-market-was a year or two ago. Be disciplined, be purposeful, but consider investing. Seriously.

Why? Don writes:

Many complex interactive systems--such as weather patterns, seismic activity, and traffic--follow what mathematicians call an inverse power law: the frequency of an event is inversely related to its magnitude. In turbulent markets, an inverse power law implies that companies face a steady flow of small opportunities, periodic midsize ones, and the rare chance to create significant value. Examples of golden opportunities include major acquisitions, transformational mergers, the opening of booming markets such as China or India, launching a breakthrough product like the iPhone, or securing hard assets on favorable terms during an economic crisis.

Given the unpredictable nature and uneven distribution of golden opportunities, a combination of patience (to wait for the right time to strike) and boldness (acting when that time arises) is crucial.

All this, of course, guarantees precisely nothing.

For one thing, how do you communicate the firm's strategic objectives to the partners, associates, and staff who will actually be the ones carrying it out? Don't you run the risk of inundating them with messages if you're trying to turn, relatively speaking, on a dime?

Well, yes.

All the more reason to stay focussed and decide very carefully about your priorities. Communicate those you truly believe in, in your gut. No more than three a year. Better, fewer.

But do not, above all, miss this opportunity.

A downturn brings hard choices into stark relief, provides an external rationale to justify difficult decisions, and offers "air cover" to reverse previous decisions. In the current market, senior executives should consolidate their major initiatives into a single list and make the hard choices needed to select a handful that are truly critical. To ensure that everyone gets the message, they should communicate the priorities throughout the entire organization, along with a list of initiatives that are no longer key objectives, to ensure that people do not waste resources on unimportant matters.

One final thought: economic crises can provide an ideal opportunity to invigorate the cultural transformation that is often needed to cultivate operational agility.

Cultural transformation? Indeed: That's where the rubber meets the road.

In the 1980's and 1990's, one often heard the only semi-facetious phrase that "investment bankers are short-term greedy, but lawyers are long-term greedy."  One of the few exceptions to "short term greedy" on the I-Bank side of the Street was always Goldman Sachs, which, under the leadership of people like John Weinberg, was the epitome of long-term greedy.

I was put in mind of this by a front page piece in today's New York Times, "As Goldman Thrives, Some Say an Ethos Has Faded."  Here's the gist.

Lloyd Blankfein has led Goldman Sachs since 2006, and "has surrounded himself with a tight circle of executives drawn from Goldman's trading operation."  The business model of Mega I-Banks has traditionally had two components, trading for the firm's own account, and counseling corporate clients on strategy, M&A, and so forth.  But if you believe the article (I do, fundamentally), this balance has shifted at Goldman:

Interviews with nearly 20 current and former Goldman partners paint a portrait of a bank driven by hard-charging traders like Mr. Blankfein, who wager vast sums in world markets in hopes of quick profits. Discreet bankers who give advice to corporate clients and help them raise capital -- once a major source of earnings for Goldman -- have been eclipsed, these people said.

To my way of thinking, the smoking gun is a 2006 change in compensation for measuring investment bankers' value to the firm.  That year, Goldman instituted banker "profiles," which are daily (yes, daily!) P&L's showing how much business its employees and clients are doing. As the article writes, this change--quelle surprise--had two effects.  First, Goldmanites focused on clients who might generate the most revenue in the very near term, and second, it "prompted bankers to fight more aggressively for credit for their deals." (Sound familiar?)

Regular readers know that I place great stock in compensation:  Read, incentives.  Econ 101, and Econ X01 through Y01, relentlessly teach the importance of incentives in molding behavior.  And the i-bankers at Goldman are surely smart enough that they don't need to be told twice how to bring home more of what they surely feel entitled to.

Here's another window on the change the firm may have undergone:

"Would John Weinberg ever be in this situation?" [offering vague apologies for "mistakes" leading up to the financial crisis], asked one former partner, referring to the legendary senior partner who ran Goldman for many years. "No way. He would have thought about the firm over 50, 100 years, not what people will get paid this year."

Since the modern Goldman emerged during the Depression, its executives have cultivated a ruthless professionalism tempered by what might best be described as Goldman Sachs Exceptionalism: a sense that Goldman stands apart from, if not above, Wall Street rivals.

This sense, strengthened by a tradition of government service among senior executives, runs deep inside the bank's headquarters at 85 Broad Street in Lower Manhattan. Indeed, from the day they arrive, employees are steeped in the firm's 14 principles. No. 1 is: "Our clients' interests always come first. Our experience shows that if we serve our clients well, our own success will follow."

If you perceive an analogy to Law Firm Land, the line forms to the left.

Surely, surely, your firm has stated core principles akin to Goldman's:  Put the interest of your clients first, and the firm will take care of itself.

But do you also have long-lasting origination credits?  And how important are they?

To what extent does your compensation model reflect a zero-sum game where one partner's hoarding gain is another's failure to collaborate loss?  Do you measure performance daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, annually, or over three to five-year rolling cycles?

In other words, how short-term greedy are you and how long-term greedy are you?

I fear that too many firms became too short-term greedy in the past decade.

Were there reasons for this?

In hindsight, of course, we know that the reasons espoused at the time look more like pretexts or thoughtless obeisance to the common wisdom than they actually look like hard-boiled, unblinkingly analytical Reasons.  

• Why lend promiscuously to subprime borrowers?  Because housing prices only go up, never down.
• Why pinch clients for more immediate revenue with less regard to cultivating a long-term relationship?  (a) Because we're Goldman Sachs and we can; and (b) because we have eaten the fruit of the poisonous quarterly- and annual-results tree of knowledge.
• Why resort to financial acrobatics and structural contortions to boost your profits-per-partner figures for benefit of The American Lawyer?  Because no one wants to finish last in a beauty contest and because everyone else is doing it (and everyone else knows everyone else is doing it, so wink-wink).

Those that became short-term greedy are now faced with the consummate challenge of rebuilding their business model at the same time they need to re-educate their partners and their associates and re-invigorate a lost culture of client service first.  All while the "Great Reset" threatens to derail the entire train.

But if the design of your compensation system, evidently like that of Goldman's, encouraged short-term-itis, do not blame your partners.  Blame yourself.

Lloyd Blankfein

Update from a reader in the UK (December 22):

Fascinating and provocative as usual, Bruce. The question, though, is of course: is it possible for law firm management to be "long-term greedy" in the age of the lateral partner? Even public companies have institutional long-term shareholders who may exert some pressure to not throw the future out in the quest for quick returns. Law firms strike me as almost unique, in that the firm's talent are also the shareholders and can exert enormous pressure on management to do things their way; and, once you add a febrile talent market to the mix, you end up with partners able to effectively hold their firms to ransom: "short-term profit or I'm out of here". Of course, the Wall St law firms (ironically enough given what's happened to their clientèle) cling on to lockstep, relatively low levels of lateraling, etc. But any economist presumably knows "culture" is an inadequate bulwark against misaligned incentives