Column

The Cost of Success

It has struck me more than once – a shock, I admit, to my naivete – to find in a looming figure in our profession – a lawyer whose fame, power, and wealth I would never approach – an Achilles heel, a human folly, a single blow so powerful to the pedestal offering no return, as to bring me to my senses, a la Nietzsche in Ecce Homo: I would rather be a satyr than a saint! What was this discovery? A moral judgment of an inferred vulnerable trait: to step into the office elevator doors on a Monday morning and behold a bedraggled barrister, red-eyed and reeking of alcohol; to watch a letch doting on a captured young associate; and to hear the yelling, swearing and cussing, a dressing down no mother should hear, over an issue easily rectifiable, far from the demesnes of our regulator. Was this the cost of success, or merely human?

For many the draw is inevitable, as if quenching thirst: I sat at a dinner listening, falsely enraptured, to a lawyer discussing apprenticeship under one of those looming figures. “There was the time when he held court over the Supremes, and I tell ya, it was a sight to behold. He interrupted them, and held their attention rapt. He had a booming voice, and even when he whispered it boomed, such was the power in his charisma.” Almost always a “he”, I note, and all I pondered was this: and you, dear sir, are a far cry from him. Proximity to success does not make oneself successful, what with osmosis being a physical-chemical reaction, not a social attribute. And as the night ran long into cocktails, there I walked past, only to hear the story told again to another poor fellow.

Quelle surprise, you say sardonically – why the complaint, is this not a profession founded in the hallowed tradition of birthing masters from masters? Indeed it was, and sometimes is. Yet Bruce Lee did not yield another as he, for phenoms are not found in apprenticeships. Closer inspection reveals progeny rarely overcomes progenitor. What of pedigree, you say? If a turtle has a hundred children and one lives, was that to its credit? It seems odd to thinks so. And yet that is what we cling to, evidence by eye test, judging the progenitor by its best progeny. Modern psychology has taught us, of course, that this is mere survivorship bias. What sings, then? Moneyball: evidence points at greatness not by pedigree but by achievements, hard-won, measured and weighed. And, one finds, often pedigree need not apply.

Finally to assess these values, should we strive ourselves to reach such heights, to put all our eggs into the basket of greatness? I yield the floor to one Jack Bogle, not a few years before his death, who gave investing advice which, tempered in the kiln of life advice, was to diversify and stay the course. For it is a common good, and satisfyingly trite, to celebrate the diverse gifts of life as achievements: relationships, family, friends, and the wonders of nature, available to us all.

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