On BigLaw Hours

If you can stomach Elie Mystal's self-absorbed prose, I encourage people to check out this piece on Above the Law about a Skadden associate in Los Angeles who died of an apparent heart attack at the age of 32 after working 100-hour weeks and suffering visible signs of stress "under intense pressure."

80+ hour stressful workweeks are the type of shit people used to protest in the mines and factories, and there's an argument that manual labor is healthier than mentally-taxing, obesity-inducing office work. No one in an industrialized county should work 100 hours a week. Your mind and body are not built to do it, and no pharmaceuticals can truly make your body amenable to the process. Your mind functions better with sleep and relaxation and contrary to popular myth, there is no necessity or personal accomplishment in working that much.

Frankly, in an industrial world of high unemployment, there's rarely good cause work more than 60 hours a week. This doesn't make me a slacker, entitlement-whore or a pussy; it makes me a rational individual not blinded by an inflated ego, undo machismo, or survivorship bias. Most of western Europe realized long ago that society benefits greatly when its people try to work rational hours and take generous vacations. In fact, while fear of lazy socialist boogie-men has controlled American labor discourse, places like Germany, the Netherlands, and Sweden are arguably in better economic shape than the U.S. (and it's almost indisputable that a poor person is better off in northern Europe).

Since the 1950s, our blue-collar and hourly work force has seen a decrease in hours worked, while white collar professionals have seen working time per person increase, despite massive improvements in efficiency. It's madness when one stops and ponders it: some of our most educated, accomplished young employees (lawyers, doctors in residency, graduate students, finance types) wind up working the longest hours by far. Meanwhile, their peers work normal schedules in their 20s and early 30s, reproduce younger and more often, and can actually enjoy and fuel the leisure economy.

Karoshi is a real phenomenon. As the BigLaw model continuously weakens and the partner track gauntlet becomes more grueling, I won't be surprised if more cases like this arise, with people trying to one-up each other on how much they love the company through billable-hour dick size. A better future would be if everyone actually behaved like rational human beings with self-respect. Unfortunately, our system seems skewered towards fear-driven megalomaniacs.

The pay of BigLaw is obviously good (note: many prostitutes and pornstars are paid well, too), even if it's greatly reduced working 80+ hours a week (it translates to about $30 an hour, which you can easily make in a number of blue-collar areas with experience), most students have to siphon off $1k+ a month for loan repayments, you often have to live in expensive large urban centers, and you're expected to have a professional wardrobe. But is it really worth it when you'll almost certainly be unemployed before the loan is paid back? When your industry has a long-term trend of slashing costs? When you're expected to be on call 24/7? When you have to sacrifice much of what older people reflect upon as positive?

Granted, not all BigLaw is bad or that stress-inducing. But twenty years ago we made fun of the Japanese for working nonstop. Their economy went into zombieland and yet, today, we have people claiming that it's normal and justifiable that our "best and brightest" regularly work 80+ hour weeks.

They, and anyone who signs up for this boat ride, are fucking crazy.

So as we head into Fourth of July, be thankful that you live in the land of Jefferson and Lincoln, of democracy and plutocratic capitalism, a place where your right to speak and believe whatever loony things you want is protected. Know that our Founding Fathers would likely gawk in horror at much of what goes on, and be thankful that there's no fat, rusty, constipated parter making your Blackberry go wild.