“Asking is uncomfortable. Many of you may be natural at developing relationships, but when it comes time to making an “ask” – whatever that ask may be – you fall short. Part of it may be a fear of failure that you ask for something that you don’t deserve, or someone else deserves it more, or you can’t deliver on it. It also may be a concern about jeopardizing relationships or trying to translate personal relationships into professional ones. Or, perhaps you are shy and not comfortable developing relationships in the first place, let alone making an ask for something that you want or need. Yet, not being able to ask – for that opportunity to represent a client, go on a pitch, or be considered for a job, promotion, leadership role or increased compensation – can impede your success. So how do you get there? Follow these tips and you should be on your way to mastering the art of the ask.”

“I offer here three mini-Lessons that work together powerfully and have helped me to craft a pleasing life.

For the first, I am indebted to Henry David Thoreau. His book Walden came out of an experiment Thoreau created to answer the question: On how little money, labor, and community can a person reasonably live? He under-took to find out by living with as much simplicity and solitude as possible for “two years and two months,” and then went back to village life.

What a difference it makes if the cause of change is curiosity! It’s so much better than “should” or “ought to” or worse, “have to.” It doesn’t matter whether these voices come from within or from outside, they still seem to deaden our joy. Instead, ask a question.”

“I didn’t start my legal career as an entrepreneur. I went to law school as a second career after spending approximately 10 years in the college recruiting, sales, and financial services industries. The primary thing I learned from that experience is I was never going to be a good “small fish in a big pond.” I needed my own pond.

…

I set out on a search for mentors. Naively, I believed small firm lawyers would be willing to help other small firm lawyers. I was wrong. However, I did meet one attorney who introduced me to a national estate planning organization that emphasized collegiality. The philosophy of the organization was if we all helped each other then we would all ultimately benefit from each other’s experience and our practices would thrive. It was an “attitude of abundance” I have embraced since.”

“Like many women, I was born and raised a people-pleaser. I wanted to be viewed as a hardworking and helpful team player, and I genuinely wanted to give back and serve others. I also had a deep burning desire to achieve as much as possible. Driven and ambitious, I never wanted to say no to an opportunity that might advance my academic or professional standing.

That means I said “yes” a lot. Looking back, it’s hard to think of any requests or opportunities I turned down during the first decade of my legal career.

As could only be expected, I eventually began to suffer from burnout and exhaustion. When it got bad enough, I sought professional advice from coaches and counselors. During this time of wanting to do more but feeling completely exhausted, I learned an invaluable lesson—that every time I said “yes,” I was also saying “no” to something or someone else.”

“I had never before asked anyone to give me a raise, but I was underpaid at my job as an attorney for a small insurance company. Not yet 30, I had three solid years of experience and had carried more than my weight, with good results. My boss was nice enough. I entered his office and made my case: I knew I had performed, and I knew that the going rate was $10,000 above my salary. What could be done to get me where I deserved to be?

My boss shook his head. “Anne, why is it that women are targeted by advertisers so much? Don’t you find it offensive that young women feel the need to spend so much more money than men because of the way they are marketed to?” I probably looked as confused as I felt. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“I just don’t think it is right that women feel like they have to shop so much that they go into debt,” he said. “It must be so hard to be a woman in this society to feel compelled to spend, spend, spend.” I was bewildered. My boss had deflected a reasonable request for a raise by suggesting that I spent too much money.”

“Not so long ago, for a woman to become a lawyer was perceived by many as a symbol of success. Today, successful women lawyers are redefining professional achievement and transforming the future of lawyering. But how does the legal profession and society measure success? What can we do to sustain success? And, how do we know if we are successful at all? I think that success is what happens when women lawyers seek out and create their own unique opportunities in a way that feels right for them. We can set our individual sights and reach our professional heights—that is the modern woman lawyer’s mantra for success. It is that freedom to make professional choices that makes success as a woman lawyer so poignant.

In my professional experience, three essential ingredients – knowledge, trust, and solutions – have helped to shape my law practice as I grew my client relationships, cultivated my professional network, and built my credentials.”

“In 2017, I was honored to give a commencement address to a group of law students. I wanted to offer them meaningful, valuable, and practical suggestions as they embarked on their legal careers. So, when I was invited to write a Lesson for this book, I decided to expand on those remarks and tailor them to my new audience. I want to make clear at the outset (and not to disappoint the readers) that I do not have a magic formula that applies just to women; rather, my suggestions apply to both men and women.

…

There is a French proverb, “Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid.” It is a charming little phrase that is widely applied and translated as, “Little by little, the bird makes its nest.” Like the little bird, you need to patiently build your nest.”

“As a law student walking to classes through the echoing glass and concrete halls of the University of Chicago Law School, I regularly passed the larger-than-life portrait of a grey-haired, stern looking woman in a light purple suit. She was the only woman on a wall of men. She also was the only woman on the faculty for many years, but I didn’t know that at the time. I saw the portrait, but I didn’t see myself in her.

Fast forward 10 years. As a law professor conducting research on women considered for the United States Supreme Court, I uncovered the stories of nine women shortlisted before Sandra Day O’Connor became the first female justice. One is Soia Mentschikoff, the only woman to appear on President Lyndon Johnson’s shortlist for the United States Supreme Court, the second woman ever to appear on such a list.

…

She became the University of Miami Law School’s first permanent female dean. It was her portrait I’d walked by as a student.”

“We are born with the potential to create our own pearl necklaces. Our pearls begin to form as we move through life experiences. When an oyster’s solitude is invaded – say by a grain of sand – it responds to the invader by secreting nacre, a light but incredibly strong mother-of-pearl substance. Over the years, the oyster diligently secretes its powerful nacre, layer upon layer, until a pearl is formed—one pearl unlike any other created in nature.

As meaningful life experiences invade our solitude, we too shape our pearls. Some enter college with nascent strands. When I entered a private women’s college, my irregularly shaped pearls were layered with nacre.

In the summer of 1977, I turned thirteen. At that time, domestic violence and child abuse laws were not meaningfully written or enforced. A summer evening encounter with a police officer created the most luminescent pearl on my strand when I witnessed the perverse allocation of power.”

“Follow your bliss,” says Joseph Campbell. Three years into lawyering, I thought, “What does he know?” I was working ungodly hours, wallowing in the fact that even after three years, I knew nothing, and I couldn’t see an end in sight. So, I did just that: I ended it. Armed with $20,000 cash stored in my sock drawer and the conviction that I could “figure it out,” I quit the practice of law. I didn’t know who I was, but I knew I didn’t want to be a lawyer.

That resolve lasted an entire 10 days. Upon learning I had left “The Practice,” my girlfriend asked if I was interested in doing some hearing coverage for her. Another girlfriend wanted me to serve as an ad hoc associate on a $10 million case. I had nothing but time and a desire to help my friends, so I was all in.

Over the next six months working with these brilliant women, I realized maybe it wasn’t the practice of law that left me bliss-less; maybe it was the fact I was practicing in a law firm.”