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.
