June 2007
Time for a Vacation
by Jeff Tolman
To get away from one’s working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one’s self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.
— Charles Horton Cooley, American Sociologist
No vacation goes unpunished.
— Karl A. Hakkarainen
The signs that I needed a vacation were becoming less and less subtle.
My conversations sounded like dictation: “Good morning, comma, Laurie. How did you sleep last night? Paragraph.”
I began using billable time as clock time: “Andy, I want you home by three-tenths after 10.”
Even my dad began receiving my lawyer-self. I would walk into his apartment, shake his hand, usher him to his chair in the living room, look him in the eye, and say, “It’s good to see you again, Dad. How can I help you today?”
Coming home after a work day, I began looking through the mail to see if we had received any rebates or refund checks — if the family had brought any money in that day.
When my haircut was done I turned to the barber and compulsively said, “Thank you, Your Honor,” before I left her shop.
It was time to get away, a jury of my spouse, kids, and partners pronounced.
So Laurie and I went, with another couple (yeah, the other woman on the trip was a lawyer. No “cold turkey” for me), to Ireland. It was my fourth trip to that wonderful country, the first with my wife.
My other occasions on the Emerald Isle had been golfing trips with my pals. Golf courses, pubs, and B&Bs were our fare. Little sightseeing, lots of bunkers with stairs, gorse Tiger Woods couldn’t hit out of, howling wind, horizontal rain, rooms ‘en suite’ and “a pint for my new friend.” Great times. Wonderful guy trips.
From the moment the plane cleared the runway in Seattle, I knew things would be different this adventure. There were no phones on the plane. Just Laurie, me, our pals Pete and Paula, my book, and the in-flight console.
No one seemed to be in trauma. Sure, there were a few nervous fliers (including my wife), but no one who looked as if they were seeking a lawyer.
I didn’t have my calendar. Nothing was present to tell me which deadlines were upcoming. Our schedule, in fact, was simple. Night one: Adare Manor. Nights two through five: Kathleen’s Guesthouse, Killarney. Nights six through 10: Riverfront Hotel, Sligo. Night 11: Rosapenna Hotel. Nights 12 and 13: Belfast. Day 14: fly home.
Yet life went on. Some mornings we had plans; others we had a day for impulse sightseeing, shopping, or simply watching the world go by. Though my golf game didn’t improve on a different continent, it seemed more relaxing, exotic, and fun slicing a ball out of bounds or missing an 18-inch putt on hundred-year-old links courses.
Daily I found my lawyerness fading. I laughed more than usual and slept in. Often we spent an hour in the morning reading The Irish Times cover to cover. Laurie and I walked miles along the beach talking. We took pictures and toured gardens and listened to Irish music. Nothing competitive or stressful or that required to be set forth in six-minute increments. No phones or computers. No one in trauma. No stress. Having the daily ability to consider what was best for Laurie and me, not a client.
The last night we two couples reminisced over a pint. Our trip had been fun, educational, and relaxing. No conversation sounding like dictation, or ending with “Thank you, Your Honor,” or by pointing out that someone had exceeded their 10-minute-a-side time allowance. It was time, though, to get back home and to work.
When I got home I noticed how I had changed. I spent more time with clients. Casual conversations seemed more important. I rated my day more by the interesting clients and cases I had than how much time I billed. My work was done more efficiently and my billings went up without any associated stress or extra hours. I held Laurie’s hand more. When I spoke with my kids I listened better. I was happier and more relaxed.
Not too long ago I asked a number of Kitsap County lawyers how much annual vacation they believed an average local practitioner took. Two or three weeks were the dominant responses. A former partner of mine once opined that, “There really is no vacation. You simply, upon your return, have to complete 52 weeks of work in 51 weeks.” Maybe. But two or three weeks is just not enough time away from the difficult work we do. If you have any doubt, look at the statistics regarding the amount of clinical depression in our profession.
Take more time off. You’ll find your professional life will hold together and you’ll be a better lawyer. When you return you’ll be more enthused about your practice, more efficient. Your billings and income may even go up. Certainly you’ll talk less like a lawyer and feel more human. You may even quit rising whenever your barber enters the room.
Jeff Tolman is a former member of the WBSA Board of Governors and practices in Poulsbo.
