I just returned from a complex multi-party mediation. I was struck by the similarities between a room full of lawyers and a room full of toddlers. We sat in a circle. We spoke in turn. We raised our hands to ask a question of the mediator (and if we didn't, he asked us to please wait). There was a bully who yelled, and a group of nicer kids we could play with.
We had snack breaks--popcorn and coffee, not cookies and milk.
When the mediator wasn't in our room, we assumed the role of teacher. When our clients were worried, we took on the lawyer's other role: counselor. We talked through their concerns; we understand their frustrations, but it's our job to emotionally separate from the issues and view them objectively. I find that a difficult task with these particular clients--genuinely nice people. For years, the owner of the company provided breakfast from Hardees for every employee--just because breakfast is the most important meal of the day. The youngest board member and only female takes on the role of caretaker for the older board members (80 plus years). "You sitting with my boyfriend?" she asks one of the lawyers. "Don't lose him." Her "boyfriend" is over 80 and still works everyday managing construction sites, but she worries. She holds an MBA and knows more about the business than anyone, but if asked, I believe every person at the company would tell you that her true calling is as a caretaker.
My role was limited, but I took advantage of the opportunity to learn. I listened. I monitored faces (my "lawyer face" still shows too much emotion). I watched one lawyer stonewall every person in the room. She refused to even say hello. At the end of the day, everyone concluded that she must not be too smart. She may be a genius, but her behavior made us believe otherwise. Lesson learned.
I missed R.J. while I was gone. He missed me too (I know because he told me). He greeted me by screaming and stomping his feet in glee. Then he asked, "How was your trip been?" "It was good," I told him. "What did you do?" he asked. I explained as best I could. "We had a mediator who helped us get along," I told him. "Oh," he said, "Oh-KAY, that good."
And, it was good. At the end of the day, I thanked the lead attorneys for letting me attend. "I have a lot of faith in you. You're going to be a good lawyer someday," was the response of one. At nine o'clock on the second night being away from my baby, I need that encouragement. I need to know that "someday" exists for me. And, after a solid 9 hours of recovery sleep, my desk is welcoming. I am energized. And, I've learned negotiating skills that will take me from my office to the playground. I can handle bullies. I recognize when it's snack time, and I'm learning when to keep my mouth shut.
We had snack breaks--popcorn and coffee, not cookies and milk.
When the mediator wasn't in our room, we assumed the role of teacher. When our clients were worried, we took on the lawyer's other role: counselor. We talked through their concerns; we understand their frustrations, but it's our job to emotionally separate from the issues and view them objectively. I find that a difficult task with these particular clients--genuinely nice people. For years, the owner of the company provided breakfast from Hardees for every employee--just because breakfast is the most important meal of the day. The youngest board member and only female takes on the role of caretaker for the older board members (80 plus years). "You sitting with my boyfriend?" she asks one of the lawyers. "Don't lose him." Her "boyfriend" is over 80 and still works everyday managing construction sites, but she worries. She holds an MBA and knows more about the business than anyone, but if asked, I believe every person at the company would tell you that her true calling is as a caretaker.
My role was limited, but I took advantage of the opportunity to learn. I listened. I monitored faces (my "lawyer face" still shows too much emotion). I watched one lawyer stonewall every person in the room. She refused to even say hello. At the end of the day, everyone concluded that she must not be too smart. She may be a genius, but her behavior made us believe otherwise. Lesson learned.
I missed R.J. while I was gone. He missed me too (I know because he told me). He greeted me by screaming and stomping his feet in glee. Then he asked, "How was your trip been?" "It was good," I told him. "What did you do?" he asked. I explained as best I could. "We had a mediator who helped us get along," I told him. "Oh," he said, "Oh-KAY, that good."
And, it was good. At the end of the day, I thanked the lead attorneys for letting me attend. "I have a lot of faith in you. You're going to be a good lawyer someday," was the response of one. At nine o'clock on the second night being away from my baby, I need that encouragement. I need to know that "someday" exists for me. And, after a solid 9 hours of recovery sleep, my desk is welcoming. I am energized. And, I've learned negotiating skills that will take me from my office to the playground. I can handle bullies. I recognize when it's snack time, and I'm learning when to keep my mouth shut.
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