Dear Rising Lawyer / Scholar: Put Down Your Damn Phone

For several decades, law students, young lawyers, and aspiring legal scholars have come to my office, sent me e-mails, or called me to ask for advice about their careers.

I am always moved, humbled, and not a little surprised by their confidence in the possibility that I might have something useful to say. So I try my best to help them.

Over the years, I have talked about the limitations on what they can plan and the role of serendipity, the importance of choosing a path that aligns with their values and identity, the competing appeals of various legal markets and career segments, the rewards and frustrations of academe, the challenges of simultaneously teaching and maintaining an active practice, my views on promising directions for intellectual inquiry, and so on and so on.

But for those who come to seek my advice this year I will start with this: put down your damn phone.

Over the past few years, I have watched as a new lawyer--given the opportunity to moderate a panel at an important conference--began incessantly checking her phone as soon as someone else began speaking.

I have watched as a brand new associate felt compelled to check her phone "subtly" while a senior partner was giving her an assignment (thankfully, this was not an associate at my firm).

I have watched as young scholars, standing in a circle of their seniors, could not resist looking at their phones while a leading figure in their field was in mid-sentence.

I increasingly find myself on the receiving end of this conduct. Not too long ago, I was engaged in a conversation with a young scholar whose career I have worked to advance. In the midst of our discussion, she stared down at her phone, began typing on it, turned, and wandered off.

Or there was the time in a small seminar--one with competitive enrollment and a long waiting list, in part because it tends to draw students interested in a field where I often can help them make connections--when I noticed that the young man sitting right next to me was responding to a text.

Raise your hand if you've seen the same sort of thing. Thank you.

Raise your hand if you've ever done something like this. Thank you. Me, too.

Now, permit me to anticipate a few objections before I proceed.

First, I fully understand the current professional and social demands for connectivity. I serve clients (primarily media entities and universities) who often turn to me for help with emergencies. My fields of practice and scholarship require a close and timely familiarity with current events as they unfold. The overwhelming majority of my family members and friends are online constantly. So I come to you with both the sympathy and the zeal of the reformed addict: I have myself fallen into these sorts of behaviors, even if not quite so extreme.

Second, special circumstances do sometimes require you to watch your phone carefully even when you're doing other things. This is easily addressed by saying something to people it might offend like: "Sorry to be watching my phone, but I'm dealing with an emergency." That special circumstances will occasionally arise does not excuse us from trying to deal with them politely. Nor does it give us license to obsess constantly over our phones as though we were monitoring the deployment of the nuclear codes.

Third, I do know some people whose jobs require the sort of constant vigilance I am describing--physicians who are on call; in-house lawyers who have to be available to clients 24/7; and so on. But the people I know who fit this description are unfailingly polite about it. And the reality is that many more people think they have these sorts of roles than actually do.

Fourth, I recognize that young lawyers and scholars do not have a monopoly here. In part, I know this because of my own failings. But I also know it because of what I see senior law partners and established academics do from time to time.

To take just one example, someone I know, who has been a lucrative client for Lawyer A, told me that to handle the biggest deal of his company's existence he had decided to shift his business to Lawyer B (at a different firm). He had come to feel that Lawyer A had more interest in his phone and his computer screen than he did in his clients.

Nevertheless, in my experience this generation of rising lawyers and scholars is much more likely to engage in this sort of conduct, particularly the most extreme versions of it.

Fifth, I acknowledge that the present generation has greater tolerance for this sort of thing and that I am, to some degree, imposing an old etiquette on a new breed. But I believe there are limitations to this argument. When the students in my seminar realized what their classmate was doing, a look of horror came across their faces as well. And I do not believe for a minute that the students who come to my office to talk to me will feel respected, welcomed, and heard if while they are talking I am playing with my phone and saying "go ahead, I'm listening." No I'm not; not really; and they know it.

Put. Down. Your. Damn. Phone.

Why?

Several reasons.

First, you are being rude. You are clearly and unmistakably conveying that whatever is being said is of secondary importance, that there is something more interesting going on elsewhere, and that you have accordingly directed your attention to that other place. I have resolved never again to do this to another human being. And I have resolved that the next time someone does this to me I will simply walk away; after all, if you can walk away intellectually then I feel justified in walking away physically.

Second, you are being stupid. The primary characteristic of all of the smartest people I know is their engagement--they listen carefully, which allows them to process what they hear critically, which allows them to respond thoughtfully. Maybe someday I will encounter someone who has detoured his attention off to his phone but who then looks up and says something brilliant, but it hasn't happened yet and I have good reasons for skepticism.

Further, and more superficially, I don't happen to think that anyone looks particularly smart when they are obsessing over their phone. Consider the common phone-checking posture: hunched over, brow furrowed, mouth hanging open. Perhaps it's just me, but here's what doesn't fly through my mind: now there's someone who I'll bet has something interesting to say!

Third, you are missing opportunities. A while back I was at an event attended by both newer scholars and more senior ones. Afterwards, a senior attendee told me that one of his conversations had led to an exciting new project. Perhaps this opportunity came his way because of his status as an established leader in the field. But it strikes me as the sort of work that is at least equally well suited to a newer scholar. And I will note that every time I saw him at the event he was talking with someone, making eye contact, and fully occupied by what they were saying.

For an entire day, I never saw him look at his phone. Not. Once. I can feel an entire universe of aspiring lawyers and scholars shuddering at the thought--and I shudder a bit myself. But, of course, this does not mean he didn't do it. It just means he figured out ways to do it that didn't make him look rude and stupid.

Offering unsolicited guidance is tricky stuff. I always think of the story about the grade school student who submitted the essay on Socrates that said: "He went around giving advice to people. They killed him." And guidance may not much impress people when it comes from a confessed repeat offender.

So I throw these observations out there for what they are worth, understanding that some aspiring lawyers and scholars will not find them sufficiently worthwhile to distract them from the latest text. Fine; I get it.

But I will say this.

For several decades, I have been advising and mentoring aspiring lawyers and scholars. Many of them have gone on to have immensely successful careers--as managing partners at leading law firms, heads of their own businesses, tenured professors, federal judges, United States Attorneys, and so on.

I like to think that, over time, I have acquired a very good eye for talent. And, although I'm not much of a gambler, I also like to think that I have a pretty good instinctual sense for how the odds tend to play out.

My money is on the people who put their damn phones down.