It’s a recent Thursday morning. I am waiting for a phone call from Super Lawyers magazine, which is running a national story dedicated to stress in the legal profession. The writer is interviewing lawyers about their experience with stress, how it affects them, and how they combat it. My story is how daily exercise counters the burdens and pressures of a litigation practice.
I assembled key points to discuss in advance of the interview, such as how research links stress with anxiety and depression, as well as serious physical health impacts. I jotted down the major burdens of my practice such as aggressive opposing counsel, keeping up with the latest case law, small business financial matters, and how technology promotes, and demands, more frequent communications.
The interviewer was experienced, perceptive, and attentive. I revealed my past emotional upheavals and traumas. I related exercise’s neurological benefits, including neurotransmitter (e.g., serotonin and dopamine) regulation. I discussed how litigation is uncollaborative. I mentioned constant business management issues such as overhead cost control, hourly rates in a competitive legal market, employee benefits and retention, and cash flow and compensation. I disclosed my personal battle allocating time among competing demands.
When the interview was over, I reflected on the interaction, and I felt generally pleased with how it went. Then I realized what I had forgotten to say.
The day before the interview, our firm had a filing deadline in an important case. We were acting as co-counsel, and our job was to draft a key client affidavit in support of a motion for contempt and for judgment. The stakes were high, and the client’s challenging disposition didn’t help matters. In a 24-hour period, I received 31 emails from the client with demanding and sometimes conflicting assertions. Early in the email barrage, I politely reminded her that all communications must be respectful. In response she berated me, accused me of not listening to her, and informed me that I was causing her blood pressure to spike.
For ethical reasons, I was unable to withdraw immediately. I submitted to her bullying and completed the legal work. When it was done, I filed a motion to withdraw as her legal counsel giving notice as mandated by court rules. It was an exhausting work day.
The next day was the interview. I didn’t relate the punishing episode from the day before. I didn’t think to use it as an example of how stressful my work can be. The truth is that difficult client relationships, though rare, are an almost intolerable part of practicing law. Instead, I just neatly folded up the episode into my just-another-tough-workday mental briefcase, and I forgot about it.
For the moment, anyhow.