RECOVERING ATTORNEY
Alexis is a recovering attorney. She practiced for 17 years in tax, corporate law and technology. She started her career in law firms, eventually transitioning to in-house counsel. She’s passionate about technology, her home state of Nevada, and most of all, her family.
If not now, then when? Have you ever asked yourself that question, or been faced with that dilemma? Or is it not a dilemma at all, but a chance for a new beginning? A chance to adjust course, to create a life well lived, to truly bring into focus what is the most important. Looking back on getting here, my career path was not a straight arrow. It seemed to zig and zag. With each position I learned new skills and refined others; brick by brick a skill set was developed that will serve me well on the unexpected path that I am now on. Below is a three-part series describing my journey to the present.
Part I: Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed
Who remembers the scene in Legally Blonde when the bubbly Elle Woods, played by Reese Witherspoon, announces to her parents while lounging in a sequined bikini that she wants to go to law school? And who remembers her parents’ response? They said something like, “But only boring people go to law school and you were the first runner up in the Hawaiian Tropics contest.” Although my parents did not say these words, they were not too excited that I wanted to go to law school either. They thought the profession attracted some interesting people; and as my dad described it, “Lawyers act like they are on vacation when they come to see me. They are thrilled to be in my chair and not able to talk or work.” My dad was a dentist. But at 21 who heeds their parents’ advice? Undeterred I headed off to law school.
I will never regret going to law school. The education is amazing. I went to law school to become a tax lawyer. Litigators are who you see on TV and in the movies. Ally McBeal, A Few Good Men, My Cousin Vinnie, Law & Order. Tax lawyers do not get screen time. There is no dramatic “You can’t handle the truth!” in tax law. There are numbers and IRS codes and if done well, a good deal of savings. I loved the work. I loved getting to know the clients. As a 25-year-old, newbie attorney, families let me into their lives. They told me their history, how they made their money, their hopes, dreams, and fears. At some point they started to focus on the legacies they wanted to leave behind. They warned me to be sure to enjoy my family. They told me to enjoy my time with my children; it all goes so fast.
Suddenly I was five or so years into my legal career. Because of the prompting, pushing, demanding of the first partner I ever worked with in a law firm, I had developed a corporate law skill set in addition to my tax background. Vacations were cancelled. Days were long. Nights were long. The volume, pace, and requirement for precision under pressure sharpened my skills and made me a better attorney. Period. Law firm life can be brutal; but you learn. You develop a toughness that is earned; and it becomes handy the rest of your life. During those five years I had briefly served as General Counsel for a real estate company and got a taste of the business side of law. In law firms you assess risk, advise clients, and in the end, business decisions need to be made by the client. Should they pursue path A or path B? It is up to them. Inside a business, you make decisions. You must keep moving forward; you have skin in the game. I love that about business. You help create. You take ownership. Your neck is on the line.
Eventually I went on to work in-house for a client who had many companies, one of which was a software company. When I interviewed at the software company I made it abundantly clear that I did not know tech. I knew a lot about how to run a business. But I did not know anything about their software, or software itself. They apparently were fine with that. Those first few weeks I would write down words like “application” and “platform” and then Google them when I got home. I did not Google at work for fear my search history would confirm what I had already made clear in my interview; I did not know software. But I learned. I learned so much and couldn’t get enough. It was the beginning of a love affair with technology that will last a lifetime. I loved the path that I was on but the only certainty in life is change.
The décor de jour of tech companies at this point was light, bright, collaborative working spaces with lots of glass walls. Very hip, very bright, and not at all conducive to the work a lawyer does. One afternoon I looked up and noticed the faces of the executives assembled in the conference room. I tried not to stare, but something was off. It was who was in the meeting, all together at the same time and the looks on their faces. I knew this look; they were uncertain yet determined. Those looks combined with a couple questions that had been casually asked of me over the previous month, raised the red flag. I walked into my boss’ office, closed the glass door that did little to provide a sound barrier, and quietly asked him, “Are we about to be acquired?” He convincingly denied it. Months later he casually suggested we go get bagels and discuss work. I found this peculiar, since we’d never left the office together. In the parking garage and safely in the car I turned to him and said, “Tell me what you have to tell me.” Not at all surprised by my directness, he told me, “We are in the very early stages of a potential acquisition by IBM.” I don’t remember what I said; but I remember how I felt. We had work to do.
Part II: Crushing It or Getting Crushed?
With my mind still processing the impact of an acquisition and what comes next, we got out of the car and headed back into the office. That transaction was equally as daunting as it was fascinating. After months of written due diligence responses and thousands of pages of documents uploaded into virtual data rooms (all the while still running the business and numbers becoming more important than ever), IBM came to town for a week of Q&A follow up to the written diligence responses. It was almost cloak and dagger with code names, confidentiality, and a not so lovely hotel that we called home for the week. The ratio was about 12 to 80; 12 of us to 80 IBMers. I worked diligently, and ridiculously, to make sure my part of that transaction went well. My first daughter was so young, maybe 1. When we were not living in the hotel for that week, I would take her to the park at 6:30AM so I could spend time with her before going into work at 7:30AM. I knew at this point that this schedule was not family-friendly; but I also knew it wasn’t forever. That’s what I told myself.
When a public company acquires a private company, you can bet most, if not all, non-revenue generating jobs will be consolidated. These companies do not need more lawyers, accountants, etc. I knew when working the IBM acquisition that I would be out of work. I had backup plans. It would be fine. Much to my surprise I was asked to interview for two or three positions at IBM; and when one of them was described to me I could not believe it was a real job. I would get to integrate companies, on the legal side, that were being acquired by IBM. With each acquisition I would learn the ins and outs of these companies, their products, their story, how they started, why they started, who started them, how they grew, and what made them an eventual acquisition target. I absolutely geeked out on this stuff. During my time with IBM, in my division, we worked 48 or so acquisitions around the world ranging from asset management software, to healthcare, to security-based products. Maybe none of this sounds interesting to you. But as an example, the asset tracking software could tell you how many red staplers were in the building and if Mary ever sat anywhere near Cindy in their 30 years of working together. Did they sit one floor apart but in the same suites? Why would anyone want or need that data? But it is needed. Data matters. It helps companies make decisions efficiently and effectively, so they can provide the best service, or product, possible to their customer. The healthcare software would be instrumental in facilitating tele-medicine to rural communities. Do you have family in a small town where there are no hospitals? I do. And telemedicine will increase their quality of life. It may save their life. When you go to Disneyland do they take your picture to make sure the $100 ticket does not get stolen, or are they doing it to help provide us with the best service possible for a whole host of reasons we never have to think about? The technology that exists today, and that is created every day, is mind boggling; and the good it can accomplish is breathtaking. Law students often get nutty after taking Torts. They question whether they are acting as a reasonably prudent person would. It can be consuming for a month or so until you settle back down into everyday life. I’m guessing medical students go through something similar, diagnosing ailments that may not exist. Now I see the world through the eyes of technology. I look at everything differently and I like that I do. I feel lucky that I do.
Although the work with IBM was fascinating and fun, I had been working remotely for years and felt that I needed to get back out in the community. Within a couple days of having a conversation with my husband about wanting something more, I received an email from my best friend from law school asking if I would be interested in heading/developing the transactional practice for the Las Vegas office of her California-based law firm. That email triggered a series of events. First, I got out of my yoga pants, and back in the community. I started volunteering and educating myself on our city’s anti-human trafficking efforts. I started providing open office hours mentoring young start-up founders Downtown for free. I engaged with the Community in which I was raised and started giving back. It felt amazing. Through those efforts I got on the radar of a local technology company who was looking for in-house counsel. Although the timing absolutely did not seem right, I knew I had to take the job.
When I came on board, Switch had just gone from local to statewide. In less than 2 years we would go national, international, and finally, public. My primary job was to negotiate deals. Little deals and huge deals; and as is common in smaller start-ups, your plate grows immensely with time. What a ride. What an absolute ride. Fun, exhausting, crushing, fascinating, inspiring and exhausting again. I got to play a small role. Someone asked me why I did it. In fact, a lot of people asked me why I did it. We all make choices. We all get to make choices. I focus on that a lot. I get to make choices. Not everyone has that luxury or right. I chose to work from 6:30AM – 10:30PM most days (Sundays excluded) because it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn. I got to work for a company that is successfully diversifying an almost singular economy. My economy. My home. Switch’s executive team was comprised of an equal number of men and women. I’ve never worked anywhere where I could be more myself than that company. Women w ere not boxed into any sort of a role. We did not have to play the sort of politics that most women in America must navigate in the corporate world. We were expected, encouraged, and supported to do impeccable work and keep getting better. That was it. It was a breath of fresh air; and unfortunately, still incredibly rare today. I have never worked with a more diligent, capable, and tough group of people in my life. I was proud to be a part of that team. It was an unforgettable experience. One that was extraordinarily difficult to walk away from.
Part III: Older and (a little bit) Wiser
Now it is late-spring of 2018. Work is moving full steam ahead. My youngest is graduating pre-school. My dad has just retired. My parents are going to travel. And then the phone rings. It is my sister. My dad was in an accident. He’s at the hospital and it is not good. Go there now. 30 days later my dad left the hospital. He had a medication interaction that stopped his heart while driving. He had been retired two weeks. He had surgery. He was on the ventilator. He got off the ventilator. He was stable. He got rushed to a different hospital sometime during those 30 days for a brain bleed and potential brain surgery. He stabilized again. He learned to sit up. He learned to stand. He learned to walk again. He has two wishes for retirement. He wants to see the leaves on the East Coast in the Fall. He wants to go back to Europe.
There are all sorts of articles out there that detail why life changing decisions are made after life events. Births of children, deaths of family or friends. It is like we must be jarred awake to be brave enough to make a change. I started really focusing on the time I have. I’m down to 9 more summers with my oldest daughter and 13 more with youngest daughter. What do I want them to say about me when I’m old, when they are at my bedside? How did I prioritize my time? Did they know that my family came first; or was it lip service with no actions to support the sentiment?
The partner I mentioned before who told me to learn corporate law also imparted some wisdom that to this day stays with me. At the end of my first week of working for the firm, he took a group of us out to drinks and proposed a toast. “Welcome to the rest of your life,” he said, half hunched over, half watching whatever sports were playing on the TV in the bar. He didn’t seem too thrilled. Yet he also didn’t seem depressed. He seemed resigned to it. It rattled me. It has stuck with me. Throughout the years I practiced law I would think about that day from time to time. 17 years later his words were staring me in the face almost taunting me and I kept hearing an old song in my head. I have always loved music. Music provides me with comfort, energy, and sometimes even guidance. This song has continually come and gone in my life at pivotal moments and it was back again. The title is Dare You to Move. The lyrics are, “Welcome to the fallout. Welcome to resistance. The tension is here. The tension is here. Between who you are and who you could be. Between how it is and how it should be. I dare you to move.” Welcome to the rest of your life … I dare you to move just hung in the air, sitting quietly, while life whirled around me, as I stared at my dad asleep in the ICU, as I watched the ICU staff rush into hospital rooms where patients passed away, and as I took calls while sitting in the ICU waiting room. They just hung there patiently, almost waiting to see what choices I would make.
About once every couple of years, I hire a business coach. Someone to help keep me accountable to my work and life goals. It is so easy, unbelievably easy, to just set yourself on cruise control when you are in an extremely demanding profession. Maybe cruise control is the wrong description; but I know many lawyers, executives, and an equal number of doctors, who are in such demanding careers, but want something more. They all say the same thing. “I don’t even have time to begin to think about how to transition to anything else.” Enter my new business coach who came highly recommended by a very successful dear friend. When talking with my business coach about what I do with my spare time, which at that time was practically zero, I said, “I look at houses.” He asked if I was looking to move. The answer was no. I love looking at houses. I love design. I love how a house becomes a home. I love the story you can create in a home. The highs, the lows, the family dinners, the puppies, the messes, and the Christmas mornings. I love the nest. I love to nest. Houses and nesting are my hobby. Then a light bulb went off. Roll the tape back 20 years to when I told my parents I was going to law school and how they reacted. Do you remember? Now imagine my mom, the retired real estate agent extraordinaire, who dominated her industry for decades. And my dad, newly retired and back on his feet. They are in front of me as I tell them I’m going into real estate. Their reaction? Tears in their eyes, half standing up out of their chairs, pure joy, and excitement. You cannot make this stuff up. My parents have always thought I should be in business for myself. I think my mom secretly hoped, maybe not so secretly, that I would go into real estate. “When you worked your first job at the Wet Seal you could sell anything to anyone,” my dad said. Thanks Dad. Always got my back.
To be fair, the decision was not that simple. I was a lawyer. I am a lawyer. I’m still a lawyer. But now I’m venturing into something completely different. My entire adult life I have been a lawyer. I thought that only older men defined themselves by their careers; but now I know that I did the same thing. Being a lawyer gave me an identity; and if I am being completely honest, I loved the race. I loved the pace and intensity. It’s in my blood. But what I know is that there are seasons of life and it all goes so fast. If you don’t take the reins from time to time, it will all fly by in a way you may have not intended. Now, I am restructuring life on my terms. I do not have a team to manage that supports me. I can go to work or not go to work. But if I want to make money, grow a business, and create something I can be proud of, it is all up to me and this is thrilling. I feel passion, drive, and excitement to create and build a new life, a new business or two or three, and make new memories.
As a kid my nickname was Lucky. At the time I did not like the name and quickly crushed it from sticking for a lifetime. But now, now I know I am lucky. I get to wake up each day and create something new. I cannot wait to see what is next. What is around the corner? What surprises await? It almost feels like the anticipation of Christmas morning as a child. I can feel it in my bones. It is good. It is a life well lived. And as for my dad, my dad and I are taking a trip, just the two of us, to the East Coast to see the leaves this Fall. Because if not now, then when? One thing I must remind myself of is, “Don’t wait.” I’m organizing my life by this focus. You simply must begin. All journeys start with a single step.