I am sitting at my desk on Friday morning, and I have failed before I have even started. The day began nicely: I slept well, and my early run was inspiring despite the dark, wet, and windy backdrop. I drove to my office and situated myself with a familiar bowl of cereal and skimmed through late night and early morning emails. On any other weekday, this would be the perfect launch to my morning.
The problem is that I had resolved to have a new work schedule this year, one that would be completed in four, 10-hour work days. But this was Day 5.
I planned meticulously for this new regime. I came up with the idea a couple of months ago, after reading several news articles substantiating the efficacy of a shorter work week. Businesses that have adopted a four-day week allow their employees to work fewer hours (32 instead of 40) and have found no reduction in productivity. Employees are reportedly happier and more committed to their jobs.
Unfortunately, the legal industry largely generates revenue by billing by the hour, so a four-day week requires ten-hour days. But I still thought it was doable. I am fortunate that I can choose any schedule that I want – as long as I am available for hearings and client meetings. I have no interest in working from home; I find that I have a better work-home life boundary if I do not. So, though I did not need the permission of my partners, I alerted them to my new schedule and received their blessings.
During November and December, I practiced working longer days. I was vigilant about getting to the office by 8:00 in the morning, and I skipped social media scrolling while I ate breakfast. I began capturing my time within 15 minutes of my arrival. I kept my eye on the clock so that billable time roughly approximated the hours at my desk minus time spent at lunch or on personal tasks. I consciously limited socializing, but I didn’t give it up completely. Who wants to be an all-work-and-no-play kind of person? Mingling and responding to amusing emails from folks takes little time out of my day.
To my surprise, with only minor adjustments, I was billing 10-20% more with little extra effort. I was happy and confident that my shortened schedule was possible.
On Monday this week, I kept with the plan, and followed it to the letter. I came home only slightly later than normal and benefited from a shorter commute with less traffic. By Thursday night, I had met my billable goal for the entire week and realized that this new schedule was a keeper.
Well, except for one thing. I had a major case blow up on Thursday. A seven-figure settlement for a client fell apart due to a last-minute ruling from a judge that changed our leverage.
So here I am, frustrated and a bit irritated, wondering if a four-day week is a foolish pipe dream. My resolution for the New Year was to use Fridays to contemplate a future life when I am retired. I had a list of projects – writing, volunteerism, hobbies, travel planning, and reading – that I had lined up for 2022, which I nicknamed My Year of Living Intentionally. And Day 5 was going to be when I explored them.
I spend the morning calling and emailing my disappointed client and the rest of her legal team to strategize next steps, and I leave the office at noon, somewhat sullen. The anticipation of having a day away from the office, and my lineup of what I wanted to do, was foiled by the demands of my law practice.
Then it occurs to me that living intentionally means thinking consciously about every feeling, the uncomfortable as well as the joyful. I sit and consider the possibility that a four-day week might not be feasible, and I allow myself to ponder disappointment. The logical part of my brain reminds me that cases do not blow up every week and that managing client expectations about when I am available is part of the process.
Later that afternoon, I check my business emails, including one from a client asking if we could touch base before the weekend. I pause and feel momentarily guilty. He is in charge of litigation for his business, which is a new position for him, and he worries about rising to the challenge. I suspect he is getting pressure from management.
I breathe deeply and respond that I am out of the office for the rest of the day, and that I will touch base on Monday morning. Moments later, I receive a cheery email from him to have a great weekend.
I think I can do this. It will just take practice.