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Recently, I’ve received a number of queries such as “Why are there no new posts recently?”  “Can you post more entries?”  Well, after being on the road, I’m now back.  By the way, I have also set up a new e-mail account so that readers can ask questions privately or contact me directly.  It’s associatespeak@gmail.com.  I will do my best to respond to e-mails within a few days unless I am traveling.

Speaking of travels, I thought this might be a good time to discuss the remote office.  If you’re currently an associate working at Biglaw, you probably are familiar with Citrix or some equivalent meta-frame software that allows you to access your work computer from home.  Whether you use a work laptop that locks into a work station, or a desktop computer at work that you’d like to access when you are at home or elsewhere, Citrix gives you the flexibility of accessing not only the documents saved on your work computer but the firm’s server.  It’s designed to ensure that whatever you see on your screen at work can also appear on your screen at home.

I’ve heard the argument that lawyers want to leave their work where it belongs; namely, at work.  When they go home, the last thing they want to do is log in and have the “freedom” to do more work at home.  That makes sense when you work a normal 9 to 6 job.  Do your work at work, and go home and relax.

But what happens if you have to work late?  If there’s a brief that needs to be prepared and you’re working up against a real deadline?  Do you really want to be at the office at 2 a.m.?  If you have to work, wouldn’t it be much better to prepare that motion while in your comfy PJs?

This week, we’ll explore the advantages and disadvantages of the remote office, and how it can be used to provide you with a lifestyle option that is at least partially within your control.

Yesterday, along with millions of Americans, I was sitting at home watching the Superbowl.  At halftime, the score was 10-6 in favor of the Colts.  It had been a decent first half to watch, with spot-on lasers fired by both Peyton Manning and Drew Brees.  But it was just good solid football played at the highest level.  No major mistakes by either team, no huge penalties at the worst possible time, no interceptions or fumbles or spectacular kickoff returns.  Just x’s and o’s executed to perfection.

As kicker Thomas Morstead got ready to kick to the Colts to start the second half, I was reaching for the chips and salsa.  I never made it.  My hand remained frozen in the air as, to my utter surprise, Morstead executes a perfect on-side kick, the football bounces off Indy receiver Hank Baskett, and the Saints recover in a mad pile-up.

Wow.  Talk about a game-changer.  The Saints capitalized on the stunned Colts, whose defense was certainly not prepared to be on the field to start the second half, marching 60 or so yards for a touchdown and the first Saints lead of the game.  Instead of Manning being on the field leading his team to what would have likely been a 17-6 lead (insurmountable from the perspective of Super Bowl history, where the greatest deficit overcome was 10 points), instead the Saints were now ahead 13-10.

Sure, it was risky, but it was a calculated risk.  An onside kick had never been attempted prior to the fourth quarter in any Super Bowl, and it was just not what the Colts’ receiving unit was expecting.  The element of surprise (or shock) can sometimes pay huge dividends.

What game changers do lawyers employ on the legal gridiron to shift momentum in their direction?  In litigation, which presents a natural adversarial environment, it’s easy to draw comparisons.  Depositions afford counsel with the opportunity to make odd requests or crazy objections simply to try to rattle the other side–sometimes even before the deposition begins.  Threats to leave the deposition or call a judge often work to intimidate the other side.  Lengthy or numerous objections work to disrupt the flow of questioning.

These tactics carry risk, of course.  They can backfire, for example, if opposing counsel calls your bluff and you aren’t in fact ready to walk out of the deposition or call a judge (or don’t have a valid basis for doing so).  Lawyers constantly push the envelope in order to maintain the element of surprise, but sometimes such behavior violate ethics or rules of professional conduct.  At times, lawyers get away with it, but be prepared for the consequences if the other side responds.

Game changers can be a powerful tool when used properly.  They can alter the dynamics of a legal battle, and shift momentum in the eyes of the judge.

What game changers have you attempted?  Did such a game changer affect the course of litigation?  For those of you in the corporate law world, what types of game changers exist?

Yesterday, I dined at a restaurant in San Francisco.  Generally, this would not be news worthy, nor would it be relevant to a website devoted to law firm issues.  Except for the fact that this was no ordinary restaurant.  It was a dining establishment in the basement of another restaurant in a windowless room with no lights.  Yes, you heard correctly.  There were no lights and no windows.  The entire restaurant was pitch black.  All the waiters and waitresses were blind.  Our waitress, Courtney, guided us to our table by forming a human train, with Courtney leading the way.

My first reaction was, holy shit, it really is dark.  Duh.  But let me clarify.  There’s dark, and then there’s dark.  Most of us are accustomed to darkness when we go to sleep at night and turn off the lights.  But there’s always some sort of ambient light filtering through a window.  Moonlight, street lights, the occasional sweep of headlights from a passing car.  Usually, you can still make out faint outlines of objects, furniture, something.  In other words, you can still see.

Not here.  This darkness was the blackest, craziest “I’m in a friggin’ black hole” kind of darkness.  The true absence of light.  Light sucked out completely, never to return. Okay, perhaps I’m being a little dramatic, but that really was how it appeared.  I couldn’t see anything.  I had no concept of how small or large the room was, how high the ceilings were, or how many tables were there.  I put my hand up to my face, two inches from my eyes.  Nothing.  I waved my hand in front of my face.  Nothing.

On top of the pitch blackness, once we had been seated, I realized that there was no sound either.  No ambient noise–no music, no conversation from other diners, not even the sound of a heating vent.  It was absolutely silent.

This was really disturbing.  My first instinct was to get up and run out.  But of course I couldn’t.  I had no idea where the hell I was.  The darkness and silence were overwhelming, oppressive, threatening to crush me.  I was used to seeing and hearing things.  Take those away from me suddenly, and I felt helpless.  I could sense panic rising at an alarming rate.

So how is this related to Biglaw?  Of course, I’m not suggesting that partners use sensory deprivation as a method to torture associates.  But, associates do experience moments of panic, especially early on, that are not dissimilar to what I felt at this restaurant.

Consider an associate asked to take a deposition after only a few months out of law school.  Or asked to go to court alone to face a peevish judge and opposing counsel who has a reputation for making mincemeat out of his opponents.  The natural reaction is this:  PANIC.  The thoughts running through your head are probably, in no particular order: What the hell do I do?  Am I ready for this?  I have no clue what I’m doing!  What if I royally fuck this up?  The partner will kill me if I screw up!  I’m going to get fired, I know it.  This is the end!

What causes this panic?  It’s the same cause for my panic in the restaurant: being thrown into a foreign environment suddenly.  I wasn’t prepared for the darkness, and didn’t know how to deal with it.  Associates aren’t prepared to take their first deposition or argue their first motion, and they don’t know how to handle them properly.

This is why, despite all the desire by first year associates for such “early responsibility,” it’s important to first get the proper training.  Courtney, the blind waitress, wasn’t going to panic.  She’s blind, after all, so she understands the environment and knows how to operate, even flourish, under such conditions.  Similarly, partners won’t panic about a deposition or a court hearing.  They’ve done it before, have accumulated the experiences, and know how to succeed under these conditions.  The key is to prepare yourself for doing something that you’ve never done before.  That’s why training and mentoring are so important early on in your career development.

It turned out that there was no ambient sound because we were the first to arrive at the restaurant.  Shortly thereafter, music started playing and other tables were filled around us.  I got used to the total darkness after a while, and figured out how to eat an entire three-course meal, complete with amuse bouche and other culinary surprises, without spilling anything.  At the end, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and even got to listen to a blind waitress recite her own poetry in the dark.  Surreal.

So, find yourself a mentor to show you the way.  Don’t stumble in the darkness all by yourself.

If you are a mid-level or senior associate, it’s very likely that you’ve been asked by the recruiting department at your law firm to interview prospective summer or lateral associates.  Most of these will be “second round” or “final round” interviews, not done on campus at law schools, but instead at the firm’s office.  More like a mini-series of interviews that conclude with lunch, these interviews give you, the interviewer, twenty minutes or half hour with the candidate before they get shuttled to the next office.

One of the standard questions asked during these interviews is, “So why are you interested in our firm?”  Candidates give a variety of responses, including the type of work offered, a particular partner they want to work for, etc.  But a common thread in the response is some mention of “early responsibility.”  New associates crave early responsibility the way a drowning man craves oxygen.  They clamor for it, they know from talking to classmates at law school that it’s important to get it, they understand that it will help them develop as lawyers, so they keep repeating it: “I want early responsibility.  I want early responsibility.  I want early responsibility.”  This phrase is repeated about six or seven times per interview — one time per 20 or 30 minute slot — multiplied by ten or more interviews at various firms.  So by the time the candidate reaches your desk, he or she may very well have repeated this mantra fifty or a hundred times–so many times that you wonder whether the words really mean anything at that point.

Of course, if candidates believe that your firm offers early responsibility–whatever that means–who are you to tell them otherwise?  “Of course we do,” you say (as you roll your eyes).  You’re secretly wondering: do they even know what the hell they are asking for?  You wonder this because, as a mid-level to senior associate, you had once prayed to the gods of early responsibility as well, and know that it wasn’t what you expected.

Here’s the secret, for all you junior associates out there reading this: early responsibility means doing stuff that is WAY out of your comfort zone.  If you’ve never been to court, and you want to argue a motion before a judge, that’s great–but do you have any idea of how to go about doing that?  Do you know how to make an appearance, whether you need to file anything prior to the appearance, give notice to opposing counsel, pay any court fees, get permission from the court if you are bringing presentation materials in the courtroom?  Like you learned in law school, the answer is, “It depends.”  Every situation is different, and only experience or guidance will allow you to navigate these tricky waters without either (1) violating a court rule and seriously pissing off the judge; (2) making a fool out of yourself and losing what little credibility you may have had with opposing counsel; (3) committing legal malpractice.

The point is this: you may want early responsibility, but make sure you really want it.  Make sure you know what it means to get real early responsibility (see the last post, “Two ships passing in the night”  for what pseudo early responsibility is).  Make sure you are willing to flop like a fish out of water, gasp for air, and barely make it back to the ocean.  If that’s not your cup of tea, you may want to reconsider saying “I want early responsibility.”

Be careful what you wish for.

During on-campus interviews, an exchange between partner/recruiter and law student can be overheard.  It happens during OCI season all over the country.  All such exchanges involve the promise of early responsibility, and while there are variations upon a theme, the conversation generally goes like this:

Partner / recruiter: What sets our firm apart is that we offer early responsibility to associates.

Law student: That’s fantastic, because I am really looking for a firm that allows me the opportunity to take ownership of things and run with it.

Partner / recruiter: Well, that’s exactly our firm philosophy.  We love to give you as much responsibility as you want.  It’s what sets us apart from other firms.

Beautiful.  Everyone is on the same page.  The partner and the law student smile at each other, shake hands, an offer is extended, and the law student accepts.  It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Or is it?

Ignoring the fact that every law firm thinks they are unique in offering early responsibility to new lawyers (if they really all did so, how is it then unique?), let’s dissect what the partner and law student were really saying and see if they were on the same page.  Here’s the same exchange, except now with translations:

Partner / recruiter: What sets our firm apart is that we offer early responsibility to associates.  TRANSLATION: Our firm is unique.  We allow our first years to be responsible for really important document review and legal research.  We let them draft their own legal memorandums.  Of course, a senior associate will have to review it first and mark it up before the partner reads it, but they get to write the first draft themselves.  If they are really good, we even let them carry our briefcases to court.  I mean, that’s real responsibility right there — imagine what would happen if the first year lost all the oral argument notes?

Law student: That’s fantastic, because I am really looking for a firm that allows me the opportunity to take ownership of things and run with it.  TRANSLATION: What you say sounds exactly what I want.  I am so excited to find a firm that entrusts me with direct client contact, witness interviews, and phone calls to opposing counsel. I am stoked that, unlike at other firms, I’ll be able to prepare substantive legal briefs, sign my own name to them, and go to court to defend my arguments. I’m going to be a real lawyer!

Partner / recruiter: Well, that’s exactly our firm philosophy.  We love to give you as much responsibility as you want.  TRANSLATION: So glad to hear that we are on the same page!  We love to give you as much legal research and document review assignments as you want.  Take ownership of those boxes of documents and go for it!

Sadly, the partner/recruiter and law student might as well have been two ships passing each other at night.  They are simply talking past each other.  It’s not that the law firms are intentionally lying to law students; it’s just that each side has completely different expectations and ideas for what “early responsibility” really entails.

Do you remember your OCI experience?  What did law firms promise you?  Were those promises fulfilled?  If not, was it due to differing expectations, or do you feel lied to?

The Deep End

ABC has a new law show that premiered last Thursday called ‘The Deep End.”  Set in Los Angeles, the show tracks a group of young, twenty-somethings who would do better having modeling careers than acting out the parts of associates at a law firm.  The title, “The Deep End,” apparently comes from the notion that first year associates are pushed into the deep end right away: we see these first years going to court, arguing motions, appearing at settlement conferences, and holding client meetings with no partner supervision.  All of this is represented symbolically when the lead character, Dylan, is pushed into a swimming pool wearing a full suit.

There’s plenty of opinions about the show, so I’ll reserve my own judgment, but if you’re interested in what your fellow associates are saying about it, there’s a good article at the Texas Lawyer:  http://www.law.com/jsp/tx/PubArticleTX.jsp?id=1202439476879&slreturn=1&hbxlogin=1

The theme for this week’s posts is responsibility.  As a first year, do you really want it?

One camp includes those associates who clamor for early responsibility.  They are itching to get to court, to meet clients, to take their first deposition, to argue with opposing counsel.

The other camp includes associates who are petrified with the idea of being pushed into the deep end.  These associates want to ramp up slowly, starting with the familiar territories of legal research and memo writing.  They want to observe partners in action to see how it’s done before they venture into dark waters.

Is there a right or wrong?  Are associates in the first camp “go-getters” on the fast track to partnership?  Or are they risk-taking idiots setting themselves up for an early fall?  Are associates in the second camp smart to first figure things out in order to build a pristine reputation?  Or will they be viewed as work horses only to be used for document review and other bottom-feeder projects?

What’s your strategy?  Ready to jump off the deep end?

Bonus season has an unintended effect when associates wait until they’ve collected the annual bonus before giving their two-week notice.  If you are an associate planning to stick around, how does this affect you?

A lot of case assignment and re-assignment occurs during the months of January and February.  This is not mere coincidence.  When associates leave, the firm needs people to fill those places.  Sometimes, case staffing gets rearranged entirely, with a lot of behind-the-scenes angling by partners who try to retain their favorite talent.

As someone who plans to stay, you need to be alert of what’s happening around you.  First, if you’re happy about the cases that you are currently working on, then try to find out if any rearranging will affect you.  This has to be done through the grapevine.  Usually, senior associates are more plugged in to what the partners are doing, so try to find out from them.

Second, if you are not currently happy about one or more cases, this might be a great opportunity to try to get switched off a case without offending the partner that you are currently working for.  This works especially well if you happen to know that one of your fellow associates is planning to leave and is working on a sexy case that you’ve been eyeing for the past few months.  Have him or her get you knowledgeable and “up to speed” on the case informally, and put in a good word for you when s/he has officially given notice and needs to transition the case.  This guarantees that you’re a step ahead of anyone else.  It makes you attractive because partners hate to write off time to get a new associate informed about a new case.  And the former partner with the decidedly un-sexy case?  He or she is generally more understanding that re-assignments occur during bonus season.

Third, if you don’t have enough work (a realistic position to be in given the continued deplorable state of the economy), look at this as a chance to get more work.  It always helps when you have insider’s knowledge of an imminent associate departure.  A lot of associates won’t even tell fellow associates until they’ve officially given notice, knowing how quickly work can spread and not wanting the partnership to know prematurely.  But if you’ve gained someone’s trust, you’ll likely know ahead of everyone else.  Use that to your advantage if you don’t have enough work and want to inherit the case.

Good luck, and happy hunting!

Last night, on the season première of 24, we see a different Jack Bauer: not the no-holds-barred, assassin-type Jack, but the grandfather who wants nothing more than to stay retired and play with his cute granddaughter all day.  But for reasons I cannot fathom, Kim–Jack’s no good, always-makes-dumb-decisions-so-that-Jack-has-to-risk-his-life-to-bail-her-out, daughter–decides to persuade her father that he needs to save the world.  Again.  Not only is this stupidity to the nth power (we just know that Jack’s going to be beaten to a pulp and almost die, it’s actually cringe-worthy at this point because Kiefer Sutherland is starting to show his age, and who really wants to see a grandfather get tortured anyway?), but it’s simply unrealistic for Kim to tell Jack to put himself in harm’s way for the eighth time after she had spent the first seven seasons as the critical daughter who constantly loathed her father for his job, for being away, for always putting his family at risk due to his profession.  It would have been far more persuasive if Jack had simply said, upon Chloe’s entreats, “Yes, I made you go through hell and do crazy things that could have ruined your life and career so I owe you one.”  But this is 24, where the writers apparently enjoy seeing how absurd the plotlines can get while we, the viewing audience, continue to watch the show.  They’re probably thinking to themselves: “Suckas!  You think that requires suspension of disbelief?  Wait until next week!”

So what does any of this have to do with associate bonuses, the topic that we started last week and continue to explore in this week’s posts?  Well, a lot, actually.  You see, it’s naturally exciting to get worked up over the bonus check.  It’s a lump sum payment of what could appear to be a substantial amount of money.  And who doesn’t get worked up over large amounts of money?  So when we get the bonus, our natural human reaction is to be giddy like school children, and spend it on something nice.  Bonuses have funded BMW M3s, Ducatis, and Corvettes.

The bonus also acts as affirmation that we’ve accomplished something.  As human beings, we like to feel accomplishment.  Getting a bonus is a weird sort of approval from the firm partnership that you are doing well.  Conversely, not getting the bonus when your colleagues are makes you feel that you are somehow “lagging” or “behind.”

But what’s really happening?  Let’s blow away the smoke, shatter the mirrors, and reveal Oz for who he really is.  Is the bonus really as large as it first appears?  If you’ve read last week’s posts, you know that the math usually doesn’t add up, and you are actually being paid far less per hour for those “bonus” hours that, if anything, should be worth far more.  As for accomplishing something, what have you really accomplished?  If you billed 2,200 hours instead of 2,000, what did you accomplish?  Aside from losing friends, pissing off your family for not calling or visiting often, accruing massive sleep dept, and otherwise displaying all the symptoms of a tired, grouchy workaholic?

You see, “Oz” would like you to believe that the bonus means something, that you should want to work that hard, that you are amply rewarded for your hard work (lump sum checks appear larger than they actually are), and that the firm “appreciates” your hard work.  It’s true, Oz gladly pockets the vast majority of the profits from your severely underpaid overtime work, but the only appreciation you truly receive is the figment of imagination in your head that tells you that the firm appreciates it.

Somehow, Oz has convinced you that you should compete with your fellow associates to see who sleeps less, who bills more hours, who sacrifices more for the firm–and that this is supposed to all be a good thing.  Like the writers of 24, Oz feeds you the absurd, packages it with a red bow, and somehow we do suspend our disbelief.

Welcome to the world of 24, I mean, Biglaw.

Law firms, unlike other companies or businesses, have approached associate salary the way hikers rely on the North Star:  it’s visible, it’s fixed, and it looks the same to everyone in the Northern hemisphere.  Associate salaries are generally well-known and publicized.  All associates in a class make the same base salary, and that base increases in lockstep fashion as you become more experienced.  When you accept an offer to join a law firm, there is no negotiation of the salary.  Similarly, if you lateral as a mid-level or senior associate to another firm, your base compensation is set by what the firm is paying other associates in your class.

Does this mean there is no room for negotiation?  As to your base salary, most likely the answer is no.  But, what most entry-level associates and laterals leave on the table is a rarely-discussed topic:  the prorated bonus.

The prorated bonus is the little-known ugly cousin to the annual bonus.  Associates heap attention and fawn upon the popular annual bonus, even as that annual bonus inwardly laughs at how hard you may have had to work, and how much you sacrificed in order to claim it.  In the meantime, the ugly cousin sits by itself in a corner of the room, neglected and unloved.  Sure, it doesn’t look as attractive as the annual bonus, as it is only able to offer a fraction of the moolah and most associates barely know it exists.

But cast aside your assumptions and first impressions, and let’s take a closer look at the prorated bonus.  First, what exactly is it?  Like the name suggests, the prorated bonus is calculated pro rata based on the number of months you worked in a calendar year.  It applies any time you work only a portion of the year, instead of a full calendar year; namely, when you first start work.

As a first year associate, you almost certainly start work in September or October.  The bar exam ends at the end of July or beginning of August, and usually, law graduates go on their celebratory bar exam trip around the world afterwards.  Even if you keep it local, there needs to be time for some R&R, and to get ready for a new life and new job.  For laterals, unless you happen to make your move on January 1, you will also be starting work some time during the middle of a calendar year.

What most associates don’t realize is that, while you can’t really negotiate your base salary, law firms may have wiggle room when it comes to bonuses.  It never hurts to ask whether the firm would be willing to provide you with a prorated bonus if you meet a prorated hours requirement.  The worst that they can say is no, and often, you’ll be surprised at what they can do.

Here’s an example:  Lisa the lateral is a third year associate fed up with life at her current Biglaw firm.  She decides to move onto greener pastures, hires a headhunter, and lands a job offer at Biglaw2 firm.  Biglaw2 wants her start date to be July 1.  At Biglaw2, she would be eligible for an annual bonus of $20k if she hits 2,200 hours for the year.  Unfortunately, she’s starting work in the middle of the year, and it’s impossible to bill 2,200 hours in six months.  But what if she hits 1,100 hours in the six months that she’s at Biglaw2?  Shouldn’t she be entitled to a prorated bonus of $10k?

Sure, $10k doesn’t sound as glamorous as $20k, but she also would only have worked six months, instead of a year, at Biglaw2.  And $10k is real money, yet for whatever reason, most associates don’t ask for the prorated bonus when they begin work at a new firm.  They simply leave that $10k on the table.

But there are even more advantages to the prorated bonus.  First, it’s much easier to bill 1,100 hours in six months than 2,200 hours in 12 months.  Why?  The higher the billables, the more difficult it is to maintain that level over a prolonged, sustained period of time.  Think about it this way.  Have you ever billed a 300+ hour month?  Probably, if you work at Biglaw.  But have you billed 300+ hours a month every month for a year?  Doubtful.  That’s a 3,600 hour year.  Doable, but unlikely for many reasons.  The point is that you have a much better chance of making the prorated bonus than the annual bonus.

Second, billing high hours for a shorter period of time isn’t as onerous as billing high hours over a long period of time.  Let’s say Lisa slacked off between January and June because she knew she was leaving her first Biglaw firm, and she spent a lot of time researching firms, talking to her headhunter, and interviewing.  By July, when she starts her new job at Biglaw2, she’s recharged her batteries and is ready to go.  Sacrificing personal time for short spurts (and then being able to recharge) is very doable.  It’s when you sacrifice your sleep and other aspects of your life, day in and day out, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, that these sacrifices become problematic.

If bonuses were paid out, on a prorated basis, every month, instead of in one lump sum at the end of the year, I’d select the prorated method in a heartbeat.  But law firms don’t do it that way.  Why?  That’s the topic for another post.

But I hope that, after reading today’s post, you begin to appreciate the value of the prorated bonus.  Suddenly, it’s no longer the ugly cousin, is it?

To bonus or not to bonus?  That’s the question for the day.  The answer, as you no doubt learned from law school, is “it depends.”

I’ll talk about two examples.

Example #1:  Your firm starts with a minimum of 2,000 billable hours and pays market rate.  They only pay out bonuses for hours above the 2,000 minimum.  Assume you are a senior associate with a base salary of $220k.  Let’s say if you bill 2,000 hours, you get nothing.  But if you bill an additional 400 hours, they give you a $20k bonus.  Worth it?  Let’s do the math.  For the first 2,000 hours, you are making $110 per hour.  But for the last 400 hours, you are only making $50 per hour!

It’s worth mentioning that, besides getting stiffed on the hourly rate (making less than half of your normal salary), the extra hours over 2,000 are the hours that (1) usually occur between midnight and 3 a.m. when you could be sleeping; (2) weekends; (3) evenings out with friends.  You get the point.  These are the hours that cut into the rest of your life, the hours that you need to socialize, eat, drink, sleep, run errands, and otherwise attempt to act like a normal human being.  Is making less than half your normal salary rate worth trading in those precious hours to sleep, or to go out on a date, or go see a movie with friends?  I hope the answer is a definitely NO!

Example #2: If your firm has a two-tiered track for those who wish to bill less but also earn less, or bill more and earn the market standard, which path would you take?  For example, let’s say the minimum billable requirement is 1,900 hours but if you work 2,000 hours, you get paid market rate.  Assume the difference between the two tiers is $30,000, and your salary is $190,000 without the “bonus.”  In short, do you take the $190k and work 1,900 hours, or go for $220k and work another 100 hours?

This should be a no-brainer.    At $190k for 1,900 hours, you are making exactly $100 / hour.  If you choose to work a mere additional 100 hours for $30k, you would be making $300 / hour, likely equal to or close to your billable rate.

Why do some firms give you such a large “bonus” for working a mere 100 extra hours?  If you are being paid your billable rate for those last 100 hours, you reason, then that means the firm isn’t profiting from it at all.  And you would be correct!  The system is set up so that the firm makes the same profit off you regardless of whether you elect to take the lower tier or higher tier.  They’ve calculated the hours and salary so that once you reach 1,900 hours, they’ve made the desired profit.  If you choose to work more hours, that’s your decision and it doesn’t affect the firm’s bottom line one bit.

But it certainly affects yours.  Only 100 more hours and you triple your salary for those hours.  In this case, it’s really a no-brainer.  Go for the “bonus.”

These are easy examples because I’ve used numbers that make it easy to see the relative worth of the bonus.  Sometimes, the numbers aren’t as clear cut.  Sometimes, the bonus is larger, and it requires fewer hours to get there.  For Example #1, if the bonus were doubled to $40k, would you do it?  400 additional hours for another $40k?  How about 200 additional hours for $20k?  The possibilities are endless.

The point, however, of this exercise is this:

(1) Think about the economics of your bonus before you decide whether you are going to “go for it” or not.

(2) Always calculate your base salary as an hourly rate, and compare that against your potential bonus as an hourly rate.  In other words, compare apples with apples.

(3) Understand that, the more hours you bill over 2,000, the more that time should be worth to you.  Those hours should, frankly, be worth more to the firm as well (if every associate worked 3,000 hours a year instead of 2,000, the firm could hire 50% fewer associates and save major bucks on overhead costs, staff, and other resources).  So make sure that you are being compensated accordingly.  If staff get 1.5x to 2x their base salary for OT, why aren’t you?

Frankly, in my opinion, most bonuses that require billing 2,200+ hours a year just aren’t worth it.  You’re almost certainly getting paid less than your base, for time that is certainly worth more.  Your secretary won’t work overtime for 50% or 75% of her base salary, nor should you.

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