Over a steaming plate of crunchy french toast and fresh coffee, in a quaint downtown cafe lined with trees dressed in their full autumn glory, I’m asked, “What’s your 3-5 year plan?” Fork halfway to my mouth, I pause before blurting out, “I’ve never had a plan.” I take the bite thinking about my answer before amending, “At least, not since I finished law school.”
I had been thinking about my plans lately, ever since being asked to join a panel for an Alumni Speaker series on legal careers at my high school. I had done this same series in early 2020 and it was surprising how many things had changed in that relatively short time span.
I knew when I was 17 that I was going to law school. I leveraged my high school’s AP classes to collect as many college credits as I could. I am not strong at all in the subjects of math and science, but that didn’t stop me from taking AP Biology, Chemistry, and Calculus. At the time, my high school had partnered with University of Detroit Mercy for the AP Calculus class so that we were actually enrolled at the university and earning credits so long as we passed the class. I earned a whopping 8 college credits from that class and when the time came to sit for the actual AP exam, which I knew had no bearing on the credits earned, I spent the entire time writing a heart-felt letter to the person who would grade the exam letting them know how calculus did not fit into my very set educational plans for the future.
College was much the same way – I picked the easiest major, put my head down, and plowed through my undergraduate degree in three years. I took the LSAT, applied to a few Michigan law schools, made a decision, submitted my deposit to reserve my spot, and that was it – I was home free. I had accomplished my singular goal in life: to go to law school. But we all know life doesn’t stop moving just because you arrive at a destination.
My first year of law school, I was utterly convinced that I didn’t want to take the bar exam at the end of my three years. I wanted to work in local government, so I didn’t try to get the standard law firm summer clerkships, instead sending out emails to several local municipalities asking if they had any summer internships, in any department. I didn’t care if I worked in parks & rec or the water department, as long as what I was doing was different.
About halfway through law school, I felt myself abruptly realign with the other law school students, like when you’re entering a drive-through car wash and your wheels are suddenly locked into the tracks, car is in neutral, and you’ve given up all control. What do you mean, you don’t want to take the bar exam? Of course you do. What do you mean, you don’t want to practice law like a traditional lawyer? Of course you do. What do you mean, you aren’t motivated by making lots of money? Of course you are.
I didn’t have a plan for what would happen after law school. My plan ended the first day of 1L year. I think I knew then, even all those years ago, that earning a law degree was just acquiring a specific tool. It was an especially powerful tool, sure, but it wasn’t a predetermined path.
I don’t think the coordinator for the Alumni Speaker Series knew how varied the legal careers were of the three panelists. And while occasionally I think about what my life would look like now if I went the traditional legal career route, I am proud of my nontraditional legal career and that I still managed to do something different.
My objective was to communicate to the high school students that a law degree, and any other degree for that matter, is merely a tool. The more tools you can collect, the more jobs you can do. If you decide you want a specific job, and you have to get a specific tool to do that job, you’ve set your path. More often though, you can get creative and take on jobs where there isn’t a predetermined, specific tool you need. Instead, you have to figure out what tools you already have that can get the job done.
There’s isn’t one day that I regret taking the bar exam. I learned while in law school that to be able to fully leverage the tool of a law degree, I needed that final step. But I do look differently at the other tools I’ve purposely sought to collect along my career – like my EMBA degree or my CES designation. I acquired those tools very intentionally, knowing exactly how much I needed them and how I would use them. Each new tool gives me the freedom and ability to work on more complicated or less traditional jobs. And because I don’t know what my day-to-day job will be six months from now (that’s been the case for the last nine years), I can’t answer the 3-5 year question. I just assume what I’ll be doing three years from now is something I don’t yet have the tools for or I haven’t thought to use the ones I have in that way yet.
I did a talk on a related topic this summer, aptly named “Not Just a Title”. This was about looking beyond the title of your job to focus on what it is that you’re actually doing on a day-to-day basis. To start the talk, I introduced this concept of “Barbie jobs” which is just another way of saying traditional jobs that can easily be defined and put in a box: doctor, lawyer, nurse, engineer, teacher, etc. But most jobs don’t fit into the Barbie box. And even the ones that do, there are a lot of nuances that go far beyond the job title.
My advice to the people in that talk as well as the high school students was the same: use each experience as a tool. Entry-level jobs like working in the retail or service industry create some of the most valuable tools you’ll never stop using. It doesn’t matter if you have a plan or if you’re just figuring it out as you go, the importance is to stay curious.
