The Holiday Brief: A Jewish Lawyer’s Survival Guide

Jeremy Blachman

Many esteemed Jewish attorneys suffer, as befits their heritage, while working non-stop in the eternal pursuit of law firm partnerships. It is a life in which missing a wedding anniversary or birth of a child, even Jewish holidays, is a given. This brief, pieced together from shredded fragments discovered in the trash bin of an anonymous law firm, provides a guide for their survival.

Rosh Hashanah

The start of a new year is always a special treat, as the billable hours counter rolls back to zero and the numbers start building up again from scratch. Start the year off right by billing 23, 24 or even 25 hours that first day. “If one bills at the year’s beginning, he will bill at year’s end,” says the Talmud. Or something like that.

Instead of dipping apples in honey, why not dip documents in honey and watch the fun as secretaries try to file them? Better yet, dip your BlackBerry in honey so no one can reach you while you sneak off to celebrate. Rather than symbolically throwing your sins in the water, toss the receipts that would really be sure to hurt your client if they’re found, and maybe some old tax returns, too. Better yet, drown a paralegal. They’ll understand. They’re there to help.

Yom Kippur

The best-known Yom Kippur precedent is the fast. However, you need strength to get through the grueling day at the firm. Instead of not eating at all, you can fulfill the spirit of the fast by limiting yourself to a $50 lunch instead of a $100 one. Or maybe just skip the appetizers. Meals paid for by the firm don’t count anyway. Obviously.

Blowing the shofar can be disturbing to non-Jewish colleagues trying to work, so just scream at an underling. “Tekiah” = “Get me that memo!” “Shevarim” = “You don’t deserve this job!” “Teruah” = “Where do you think you’re going?” and “Tekiah Gadola” = “You’re a disgrace to the profession!” Repeat as necessary. Finally, as the book of life is sealed, make sure your name is spelled right. You don’t want to have to suffer through the ordeal of a lawsuit over mistaken identity. It’s not worth it.

Sukkot

Sukkot is a favorite holiday for many attorneys because of the shaking of the lulav and the timesheet. (It’s hard to track down an etrog when you’re stuck in the office all day, so you have to improvise.) To turn your office into a sturdy Sukkah, just shred a tall pile of documents and sprinkle them on the floor, adding the bones of rejected law student recruits to keep everything nice and firm underfoot. Living in your office/Sukkah for seven straight days is easy—you’re there anyway! Instead of hanging dried or plastic fruit from the ceiling, make some rope available for overworked, stressed-out associates wandering the halls in desperation.

Simchat Torah

As the Torah starts again each year, so does the busy-work. No one ever remembers what memos have already been written and what research has already been done—so, on Simchat Torah, we start assigning projects from scratch once again. Parade the client invoices down the hall, dancing and cheering. Pass them around to everyone—let the entire firm rejoice. Carry them into the streets and show all the non-profit do-gooders how much money they could make if only they came over to the dark side. Dance with the underlings. Feed them. Keep going until the dancing exhausts everyone completely. Then give them an urgent assignment that must be done by sunrise—it’s a great day to be a Jewish attorney!

Hanukkah

The spirit of the Festival of Lights shines strong at many law firms, where the Festival of Office Lights is celebrated all year long as attorneys routinely work overnight on urgent memos and briefs. While there may not be any dreidels to spin, lawyers can spin paralegals round and round, running them to the library, the copier, the coffee machine and back until they fall on one of their sides. If they fall on their heads, win a new paralegal. Candles may be hard to find in the office but there will surely be matches, as there’s always incriminating evidence to burn.

Purim

Although Haman must have seemed like a villain back in the day, the real villains for most law firm associates are the partners in charge, who make everyone else toil long hours without food and water. For Purim, attorneys should dress up like their superiors at the firm and read the recruiting brochure aloud, a document filled with false promises and half-truths that Haman himself would have been proud to have written. Associates may hope that somebody—Mordechai, Queen Esther or maybe just a concerned family member—will come to save them but, alas, they probably wouldn’t get through security. Lawyers can carry baskets (waste baskets will do) of vending machine snacks to their colleagues. Purim is also a good time to contribute to the unemployment fund, created to help support the few brave souls who quit and launch “careers” as yoga teachers and french fry cooks.

Passover

The idea of Passover is familiar to most law firm associates, as they are accustomed to being “passed over” for partnership when their turn comes. Only the tiniest fraction of associates ever gets the nod. Once selected, however, they can look down on their former colleagues as they endure a manageable period of enslavement for up to 400 years. If anyone ever does decide to escape, he had better run quickly, before the guards catch up. There won’t be time for bread to leaven or a final check of e-mail. His account will be shut down and all evidence of the departed will be erased in an instant.

Sometimes, attorneys can celebrate the seder in an empty conference room, raising the traditional four questions: “Why is it that all other jobs allow people to go home at a normal hour, but this one does not? Why is it that only some work is billable? Why, when I write the perfect brief, does the partner make me do it over again? Why don’t I have a couch to recline on after working for 48 hours straight?” Partners should hide the afikomen—a document vital for associates to complete the assignment due by midnight—somewhere where they’ll never find it. Finally, tell your family to leave the door ajar. Just like Elijah, you won’t be there in time to eat your seder meal. Oh well! There’s always next year, in the satellite office!

Shavuot

Working at a law firm is terrific practice for Shavuot, when people stay up all night to study the Torah. Lawyers are used to welcoming the dawn at their desks, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Instead of decorating the synagogue with flowers and greens, decorate your office with Post-It flags in an assortment of neon colors. Depending on availability, your dairy meal will include coffee with milk, vending machine Cheez Doodles and a wilted week-old danish from the man in the lobby.

Tisha B’Av

On Tisha B’Av, we mourn tragedies from our past. As such, it is the appropriate time for Jewish lawyers to shed a tear for the loss of their creativity, their family lives and their souls. The prohibition on greeting friends is easy to obey at a law firm, where colleagues tend to ignore one another anyway. On this day in law firm history, billable hours became standardized, hierarchy became regimented and the BlackBerry was invented.

Of course, it should be noted that the law firm officially recognizes none of these holidays. Celebrate at your own risk.

Jeremy Blachman is a 2005 Harvard Law School graduate and author of Anonymous Lawyer, a satire of law firm life and culture. His extended briefing on the secret lives of lawyers awaits at anonymouslawfirm.com.