Praying for Ash (a/k/a Travel Hell)

Dateline: 30,000 ft over Charlotte (Thursday, April 22 – 11:45 p.m.)

Though I originally meant it tongue in cheek, today is one of those days embedded in one of those weeks in one of those months when, truly, no one would want my life.

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m trying to get home from Richmond, on my third plane after one cancellation, two re-routings, and additional avian indignities (including being ejected from a flight I got on standby after the true seat owner showed up). By the time I get home, I will have been up for 22 hours for a client who won’t let me bill travel time.

I could have stayed in Richmond, of course, but this way, I will wake up in my own bed and send my children off to school tomorrow. And that, my friends, makes all the difference.

Here’s a snapshot of the seventh circle of travel hell.

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Week One: Monday. Up at 4:30 am for the first flight out for two days in Chicago. No, not really Chicago, that would ok (sort of). What I mean by “Chicago,” is a strip mall/fast food/absolutely must-rent-a-car exurb of Chicago. Back Tuesday night, kids already in bed. Wednesday: office, no time for lunch. Thursday, marathon “day trip” to Richmond. Friday: kiss the kids, work from home.

Week Two: Monday, yes, your Honor, it would be my pleasure to spend the entire day travelling to and from Richmond (again!) for a five minute status conference. Tuesday, parent teacher conference (Teacher: “He would definitely benefit from more time with you. Do you think that could be arranged?”). Tuesday night, red eye to London. Arrive 6:45 a.m. GMT. Wednesday, quick shower, new clothes, try to look presentable despite night on plane and jet lag. Listen from somewhere deep inside exhaustion as my disembodied voice explains, “Yes, the Court is requiring you to produce those documents.” (Is that really me talking?) Client insists on long slow dinner. Drink too much and be too jolly. Thursday, Friday, London, London. Saturday, EU. More clients. More drinking. More jolly. Sunday, home.

Week Three: Monday, office. Tuesday, California. Wednesday, California. Thursday night, red eye to New York. Friday, may not get to shower. (Yikes!) Try-to-look presentable despite night on plane and continent lag. Listen to foggy disembodied voice. No time to drink. No time to be jolly. Please, US Air, please: home for dinner?

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Every fall, there is a 2L who says to me, “You travel so much. That must be very exciting.” And you know, perhaps it is. After all, once you get to those places, there are such remarkable people there, and such interesting problems. But, oh my, the journey . . .

Working at Home

These are the days I like best. Early spring, cool in the morning with a mist that clings to daffodils. Before settling down to work, with my papers and computer, sprawled across the bed, I always walk through the garden, admiring each new plant and the promise of harvests to come. I visit my chickens, and take a few minutes to savor them as they peck and fuss and hunt for food.

In an hour, I will be on a conference call with opposing counsel in a multi-hundred million dollar case. He's a New York lawyer in every sense--the good and the bad--and he cannot imagine the setting in which his call finds me. It makes me smile, the contrast between the obstructionist arrogance that is my life, and this bucolic setting that is also my life.

Working at home is one of the reasons I can do what I do. When I am not traveling, I work at home several days a week. Working at home saves me two hours in a car each day; it lets me pick my daughter up from baseball; it means I can help my son with his multiplication tables. Forget "part time," alternate work schedules and technology that allow remote work are critical to the long-term success of big firm lawyers who are also mothers. But how many firms allow it?

In our case, when I was diversity coordinator, we implemented an "alternative work policy," that allows many types of non-traditional work structures, including working from home. So far, though, most of the lawyers who really work from home--consistently, successfully and no questions asked--are like me, so senior, that we don't need policies, we just do it. I suppose that's the way it will always be: first, you have to prove yourself. And I suppose, too, that even the option and the capability are progress. After all, most of the lawyers in my firm who work from home are male, and having a "policy" that the men use too, well, that's the quickest route I know to long-term acceptance.

Casual Friday

Ok, I am just going to say it: "I hate casual Fridays."

It is 8:54. It takes me an hour to drive to work. And here I still am in the closet, ankle deep in discarded outfits. What to wear, what to wear?

Casual Sunday is easy. I wear what I want. Those marvelous jeans I've loved so long that the belt loops are tearing off. A tight sexy skirt and boots. (No, wait, that's casual Saturday). PJs?

Those same jeans used to be the casual Friday standby. Dressed up with a black cashmere sweater and boots. Something expensive in my ears. Neat, comfortable, but together. Attractive, but not too sexy. It all said, she's comfortable enough to be really comfortable, but wow, I'll bet she's scary in court.

But now what?

Khakis? Too dowdy.

Short skirt and sweater? Umm, that's a little too short.

Jeans with ripped belt loops? What does she think this is - a rock concert?

The other jeans? Why was it again that I never wear them? Oh, yeah, right. Mom jeans!

Vintage Marimekko mini-dress? Well, maybe. Wait, no. That might reveal my personality. We NEVER do that at the office.

Can't I please just wear my lawyer costume?

Please . . .

The Whole Cloth: Threads of Affirmative Action

Our law firm diversity web page includes "profiles" of diverse attorneys in the firm. Recently, the new diversity coordinator and marketing manager asked me if I would like to be profiled. Certainly, this offer was intended as a compliment and a way to honor my past contributions as diversity coordinator, but on reflection, I declined.

I say, "on reflection," to make clear that I did not decline out of continuing pique over the firm's general failure to compensate me appropriately for my contributions when I was the firm diversity coordinator. And I did not decline because I am opposed to the whole idea of the profiles. To the contrary, I like them. They were my idea, and they do celebrate and honor our diverse attorneys, both for their success and for their difference.

And for all those reasons, I felt I should accept, or as it felt to me, acquiesce. But the truth is, when it comes to my own career, I continue to be uncomfortable with being singled out or recognized as diverse. I continue to feel that the world is teaming with people just waiting to say, "Aha, you see. She is only a senior partner because they needed a woman."

It's silly. Really silly, on so many levels.

First, I have no doubt that  my successes are real and earned, and I have no doubt that the people who know me, including my partners and my clients, know that. So why am I so insecure?

Second, there is no question I'm female. It's not a secret. Everyone who meets me figures that out in the first nanosecond. And I like being female. So who am I kidding?

Third, when I'm honest with myself, part of my success is certainly because I'm female. Not in the affirmative action, her-gender-is-her-identity, give-her-something-because-she's-diverse sense many of us fear, but because my femaleness is part of the essence of me, and it cannot be teased out. It is part of my success, and part of my failure, sometimes it is a cause of each, sometimes not, but always it is present.

And this knowledge, that our diversity characteristics are threads that provide structure or color to the fabric of ourselves is one of the best aspects of modern evolving diversity culture. In my case, there is a female aspect to the way I work, and collaborate, and network, and carry myself, and yes, even flirt, that enhances and is part of my professional success. I haven't succeeded BECAUSE I'm a woman, but being a woman is part of my success because it's part of me.

So what am I afraid of? I'm afraid of the past, and I can't quite manage to accept that it is past. I still worry that being recognized for being female overstates that one thread of who I am and by making it the whole cloth, undermines the fact of my success on the merits.

I'm afraid that if they pull out that one thread, the entire cloth unravels.

Am I wrong?