Dad-isms

Dad-isms. You know. The wacky stuff your dad says over and over again, hoping that he's passing on life lessons, but most of the time it's just annoying the hell out of you. The scary part is, the stuff actually sinks in.

The first time I actually heard myself repeating a dad-ism, I was horrified. I told someone "if work was easy, it wouldn't be called work."

Holy shit!

Was I becoming my father? Next thing you know, was going to start losing my hair and speaking in baseball analogies?

Some of them stuck harder than others... You won't see any other attorney standing in the copy room binding briefs because we're over deadline and the messenger is screaming that he has to leave RIGHT NOW to get to the courthouse before it closes. In those moments, my dad's voice is echoing in my ear, telling me there are no superstars on this team - we do what we have to do for the team to succeed.

My staff thinks I'm crazy because it's not my job to do the copying and binding. But they also know I'll do anything to things get done. That I never ask someone to do something I wouldn't - haven't - done myself. So, in turn, they will do just about anything for me without complaint.

But the dad-ism that always drove me crazy was "we do not define ourselves by external standards."

First off, doesn't everyone, to some extent, worry about what other people think of them? Dress with more care when meeting with clients, going to a networking event or appearing in court? Hell, if I'm wrong on that, I'm rolling into the office in ripped jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt from now on!

But no matter what he says, when I work my ass off, when I do a great job for you, I expect a little acknowledgment. I want a little praise.

I've put everything into this case, this trial. My heart. My nights. My weekends. My time away from my husband and son.

I know I'm doing a kick ass job. Still, I just want a little "thank you."

I may never get it from the boss, who has his head so far into trial mode, he can barely think beyond the cross of the next witness. But last night, at least I got it from somewhere. An unlikely source. A partner known for being a cold, sarcastic son of a bitch.

I'll take my strokes where ever I can right now. Sometimes those few little words make all the difference. (Sorry dad, but they do!)