On Feeling Boxed In
I am, as some would put it, a “career prosecutor.” I have held the same job since 2001 and have been in the same office over 20 years. I prosecute serious, violent felonies: rapes, robberies; burglaries; homicides. I made the local headlines a couple years ago because I prosecuted the wife of a popular sports figure. It was a somewhat surreal experience.
I have noticed, of late, that my peers are seeking higher positions, if not within the office, in other capacities, most frequently, as judges. I myself aspired to become a judge a few years back, coinciding with my short-lived fame. I applied twice and ran for election once. In that year, I rearranged my priorities to be a more appealing candidate. I marched in parades, I shook a lot of hands and participated in fundraisers. I used creative writing to make an application worthy of consideration by a higher commission. And got absolutely nowhere.
I hated it all. And I quickly got over any ambition I had to be a judge.
Fast forward to the present. In my particular division, experienced attorneys are leaving in droves; for private practice, for judicial appointments, for management positions. The reasons I hear about for this migration are fairly consistent: higher salary or to avoid the crushing caseload and ensuing heart attack/nervous breakdown. Trial work is not for the faint of heart. Most of us in this division are adrenaline junkies and thrive on the adversarial system we work within. But after 5, 10, 20 years, the constant conflict can wear a person down. Also, I think as we approach middle age, there is a need to manage and get out of being managed by others. With longevity comes credibility and respect, right?
So, as a result of the mass exodus from violent crimes prosecution, we now have brand new lawyers, eager, enthusiastic, and unfortunately, completely inexperienced. The direct result of this is more difficult cases piled on my already overflowing plate. I struggle to fight off the increasing feelings of bitterness and resentment.
The question then, is directed at me: why don’t you apply for a management position? Why don’t you apply again to be a judge? Why don’t you go do something else? The answer is pretty simple. I have no desire to manage or supervise anyone besides myself. And I have become so disillusioned with the recent batch of appointees to our local bench that I would rather not count many of those individuals as my colleagues. Plus, I still love trying cases. I’ve developed a good reputation as a strong, passionate advocate who plays by the rules. I am respected. I know how to do my job. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I feel somewhat uncomfortable in the notion of trying to learn something else at this stage of my career.
I went to dinner with a friend who has now been retired from my office for two years. I am extremely envious of her, but I also realize she put in close to 30 years at our office, some of them rather miserable at that. I whined a bit about my situation and then our conversation shifted to a co-worker who had recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. And my friend said to me, in that direct way I most appreciate about her, “at least you don’t have cancer.”
It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? So when I return to work Monday it will be with a full heart and immense gratitude for what I have. There simply cannot be room for anything else.