Dramatization – The Key To Success

or What I Did Wrong

Unfortunately, I was so busy getting things done that I had no time to do the single most important thing that serves as the hallmark of highly successful, universally appreciated, and generously compensated workers with guaranteed jobs: Dramatization, of both the visual and oral variety. I neglected to talk—constantly and endlessly, to anyone who would listen or not—about how busy I was, about how late I had worked the night before or the birthday party I missed this past weekend because I rewrote some attorney bios.  I did not sit in meetings frantically thumb-punching Blackberry messages while exhaling in melodramatic exasperation. I failed to spend several hours a day in front of the coffee machine yammering on to whomever stopped by about the difficulty of getting a Town Car at 11PM in midtown. And, I didn’t have 2-foot piles of work documents strewn across every square inch of the desk, credenza and floor of my office. My tidy windowed office—the product of 25 years of experience learning that careful organization increases efficiency—provided all the evidence these lawyers needed to cull the herd. After all, I was not billable so my hours were not trackable in the conventional way (disregarding the fact that if someone cared to check, this information could easily be retrieved from IT’s records of my connections to the firm’s network, which is no more or less evidence of actual productivity than a billable time sheet.).  One quick look at my behavior in meetings–consistently paying attention to what was going on around me–or the orderly emptiness of my office provided all the visual clues needed by the downsizing team to deem me expendable.

So, when the bell rang, the one signaling this law firm and several hundred others to hit the panic button, I was canned, along with approx 150 attorneys and several support staff. I was the only senior marketing manager “downsized” at that time and at 57, the oldest by a significant margin.

I know this because for some reason, my separation package contained a list of the titles and ages of the New York-office support staff targeted for downsizing. Only 2 were above the age of 50: myself and one other woman, aged 51. The 51-year-old was rehired 3 weeks later after the firm realized the major blunder of eliminating her entire department, which happened to be smack in the middle of launching a multi-million dollar customer relationship management system. 

The only things the 51-year-old and I had in common were our over-50-ness and tidy offices, therefore, I must deduce that visual dramatization served as an important factor in our selection as “to be culled.” Tidiness, and of course, being over 50.

My dismissal came as a complete shock not only because I had received a very positive year-end review and healthy bonus just a few weeks prior, but also because I was very busy with my responsibilities supporting what was and would most assuredly continue to be one of the most profitable practices during the economic downturn: Bankruptcy & Restructuring. Further, I had just helped the practice successfully launch a new and unique sub-practice that was poised to make a bundle as the economy continued to tank.

Still, when the first hints of The Great Law Firm Panic of 2009 began to hit the blogs, I talked to my Director to express my concerns. I explained to her that my husband’s industry—architecture—was sinking fast; that he had already taken two successive 20% salary cuts; that his employment future was looking increasingly bleak and that we’d consider ourselves lucky if he managed to hold onto his job for another few months.  I told her I would do just about anything to keep my job and even expressed my willingness to go to part time if necessary. She told me that, at the time, she had no idea who would be on the chopping block or when the axe would fall.  Curiously though, she also appeared to be genuinely surprised and impressed about my offer to go part-time, as if the notion had never occurred to her.  Apparently, her enthusiasm for the concept was genuine because when the cuts began less than a month later, a part-time arrangement was offered to and accepted by a west coast Marketing Director. I was given no such option and simply and summarily dismissed.

(A bit of interesting staffing background: Before the cuts, this firm’s Marketing Department had sundry Marketing Managers and Coordinators, 2 Senior Managers and 9 (count’em, 9) Directors. After the cuts, the sundry Managers and Coordinators were cut by about one-third; Senior Managers by half, but only 1 Director was dismissed, leaving 7 full-time and 1 part-time Director to manage a small cadre of grunts. Go figure.)

For more than a year, I have speculated on the “real” reason the decision was made to can me as opposed to the next person. Frankly, it’s tiresome and serves no purpose other than to keep me awake at night. Suffice it to say, there was no good reason, “good” meaning in this case, a factual and compelling business, performance, or economic reason. My practices were highly profitable; their revenues grew consistently from year to year, although not by as much as the partners would have liked (seriously though, who’s revenue does grow from year to year as much as they would like?).  I was under the (evidently mistaken) impression that I had excellent working relationships with my attorneys and marketing colleagues; and although my salary was indeed handsome, it was nonetheless about a third lower than any of the 8 Directors who held onto their jobs.

It is what it is, or rather, it was what it was, whatever it was. But, this blog is not about the “why” I was let go but “what happens next” when a 57 year-old is thrust into the job market under the worst possible economic conditions imaginable.