Can you believe that just a few weeks after a 10-day passage at sea, I’m off gallivanting on a safari in Tanzania? Neither can I. It raises so many questions that I'm sure everyone is way too polite to ask:
She must have taken her laptop with her?
Was she writing legal briefs with a pack of hyenas cackling outside her tent?
Why don't her colleagues run her out of the office with a pitchfork? ...oh the benefits of remote work...
But really…how does...maybe she… *draws a blank*...
I only imagine this conversation happening this way because if you had told me 5 years ago this particular series of fortunate events would place me where I am today, I would have told you it is impossible. I would not have been able to see my way to it. I would have been as flummoxed as anyone else, left standing next to the coffee maker and cheeze-its dispenser in the employee break room wondering...
How is this even possible?
What Are You Willing To do?
One of the misgivings I had about working remotely while sailing was the idea that I would have to dumb down my practice. I didn't want to return to the work I tackled when I was a 1-3 year attorney or try a simpler practice area where cases are run on a series of repeating fact patterns and forms. Nothing wrong with any of that if you enjoy it, but I thrive in tackling complicated fact patterns in nuanced areas of law that require me to learn something new every single case. If there is anything I love about practicing law, its that I never had a boring day in my whole career. It stretched my limits and taught me something new every day.
I didn’t want to go through the effort of building a remote practice for anything less. I also didn’t want the pay cut. It’s not so much about the total amount of pay for me, but the value of my time. It doesn’t really make sense for me to work many hours for a low rate while I’m out trying to see the world. I’ll just enjoy my sailing days and return to work when I can focus on my finances and get on with it.
That was my original plan.
And, I expressed this misgiving right up front. But this firm had the most surprising of answers: “We can pay you at a rate that matches your skill and market value.”
Even though I am remote?
Even though I am on a sailboat?
“...well, why not?” They said.
Be Willing to Trade Your Money For Time
I thought about this question, why not, for quite some time and the answer is “Because I’m going to be a major pain in your ass!”
I knew going into this that unless I was just a temporary contractor, I would eventually need to sail oceans. (I am not living in the Seychelles!) I also knew that it would be pointless unless I still had time to explore the places I sail oceans to get to. If you’ve been reading this blog for long, you know that I have a mixed relationship with my ocean passages. I’m not the kind of girl who wants to sail for the sake of sailing itself. I’m out here to see the world, and sailing happens to be the most practical mode of travel for me.
Would I still want to do it if I did nothing but sailed across an ocean to work with my face behind a computer screen for a few weeks before pushing on? No way. No.
They could pay a salary set for a lower work hours commitment, I didn’t like that option for two reasons. (1) I’m no dummy, and I know work flows to a vacuum. Maybe the experiment will hold and I really will work just a little bit. But more likely, I’ll end up working a normal job with my pay unintentionally set at half-time. (2) I also do not like the hit to my reputation among my colleagues if I take a salary months that I am toodling about in an ocean. If I’m not billing time, I’m not bringing in income and my absence becomes both a workload and cashflow strain on my teammates. I’m not being a “selfless team player with no boundaries” here. I’m being realistic.
I’ve never been at a law firm where there isn’t more work than a team can comfortably handle. What if I pitch in and help whenever work flares up, then gallivant on days they don’t need me? So long as I communicate about the end of my project work and write the Hit By a Bus Report, I have zero guilt about slagging off to play amongst the giraffes. And while I will not be making the total amount that I used to make (because I work fewer hours), I will be making the same in a pro-rated amount (because the work I do provide is highly skilled).
“I’d rather be paid hourly,” I told them. “I want you guys to think of me as an extra benefit, not a drain on your resources.”
They agreed and made me an offer.
The Too Good to Be True Analysis
If something is too good to be true, it probably is.
Stop being such a pessimist, Leslie.
I’m a lawyer. It is my job to be a pessimist.
But yes, even lawyers and pessimists can be 4th-grade level mathematicians. I figured if the math maths, then maybe it isn't too good to be true. So, I undertook the same sort of analysis I used to do every year to calculate how much I should be paid.
The rates law firms bill their clients for attorney time include profits, all sorts of costs, and a buffer to manage our realization rate. Just like when you buy a Big Mac at McDonalds, there are components of a sandwich that McDonalds has to buy and use to build their Big Mac. They also have to pay taxes on the Big Macs they sell, rent or buy the buildings where they build their Big Macs, insurance to cover their business if they give someone food poisoning, advertising to make sure you know the Big Mac exists and you want one, etc. The price they charge also has to account for losses they know happen in the normal processes of making Big Macs, for example: sometimes the food goes bad in the fridge; employees accidentally charge the customer for an ice cream cone instead; or the Hamburgaler steals more Big Macs than you think!
For a law firm, it’s the same thing. To offer legal services, the firm must buy the human mind that creates the product and the conditions the human mind requires to do its proper thinking. This includes our salaries, state-required insurance and taxes, the cost of our computers, our program applications and subscriptions to things like legal research libraries, our law licenses, and our continuing education credits. The hourly rate also includes a buffer to make sure the business can survive when we need to write off some time because we spun our wheels overthinking or our client makes off like a bandit and refuses to pay. When I calculated the mathematics likely behind my offer, it wasn’t too good to be true but a fair split.
With all of these open conversations flowing, I reached a (hopefully-rational) hope that I could navigate the uncharted waters of practicing complex litigation as an Oddgodfrey.
I accepted the offer and agreed to give it a try.
And this week, I’m testing out the “off-work” theory while cavorting with the girraffes.