Last week I went into my 10-year old son’s school to help out during a lesson on entrepreneurship. The feedback from Johnny (which he was keen to give me the moment he arrived home #timely) was that I spoke clearly and smiled and would “make a good business studies teacher” 😊

 

My initial feeling was one of relief that I hadn’t been a complete embarrassment to him (I’m all too aware that these days are numbered!). But I was also struck by how quickly he has stopped viewing me as a “lawyer”, and instead sees me as someone who “helps people in business”. He was alive for half of my 18-year legal career but has moved on very easily.

 

I suppose I have too. I refer to myself now and again as a “recovering lawyer”, but I do feel like the curtain has fallen on that Act (even though I still find the business of law fascinating (really!)).

 

At the start of a new coaching assignment, I will always ensure that my client is clear on the nature of the support I’ll be providing and the style of my approach – the so-called “contracting process” -, and it is always a nuanced discussion. But when I am asked by people I don’t know “what do you do”, and I tell them that I am an “executive coach”, invariably I am left feeling that this job description fails to capture the breadth and variety of what my work actually entails.

 

When working with a law firm senior associate looking to be promoted to partnership, the term holds up well (although, given my previous experience, some mentoring inevitably creeps in (with the coachee’s agreement, of course)); but this isn’t the case if I’m describing my work with a CEO contemplating the sale of their business (sounding board?) or a founder in the process of scaling up (consultant?)*. Fortunately the strapline I came up with a year ago – “Face the future with confidence and clarity” – still feels apt (no need for a rebrand anytime soon (phew)).

 

New executive coaches (myself included) get very hung up on questions like “what sort of coach am I?” or “who is my ideal client?”. As I contemplate the past year of self-employment, and how much I am enjoying myself, I have decided to heed some advice I received recently from a coaching mentor and banish any notions of “niche”. Instead I will continue to seek out opportunities to work with as many different clients as possible, to build with them relationships based on trust, empathy and respect, and to keep considering myself as someone who “helps people in business” (© Johnny Carlton 2021).

 

 

 

 

*I have even been called a “consigliere”!

How has your relationship with time changed during the pandemic? Do your days and weeks drag, punctuated by periods of extreme boredom? Are you now super-fit and/or fluent in Portuguese? Or are there simply not enough hours in the day? Has lockdown made you hugely productive or is your to-do list as long and straggly as your hair? 

And if you are a manager, do you know where on this spectrum each of your team members sits? And if they are feeling frazzled, do you ever consider what you could be doing to help them regain some control over their time? 

I gave a presentation a couple of times last month on our relationships with our colleagues – in particular how to communicate and collaborate effectively – within the context of remote working. I talked about how these relationships have taken on a new significance in a world where our ability to connect with others has been reduced, precisely at a time when our need for human connection has increased; about the importance of listening to each other – and I mean really listening, free from bias and judgement; and why we need to be open and generous in our gratitude of our colleagues. 

The section of my presentation that people seem to be most interested in is the bit where I talk about how we should all be thinking carefully about the tool that we choose when communicating with our colleagues, grouping them into “synchronous” and “asynchronous” communication tools. These terms are likely to be familiar to people working in an agile, tech environment, but for those of you in more traditional organisations, particularly good old professional services firms, I can just see the puzzled look on your faces. 

“Synchronous” communication is communication in real-time, where the parties are in-sync: processing and responding to messages immediately. This could be a phone call, a Teams message, or a meeting, either physical or virtual. 

On the other hand, “asynchronous” communication allows a message to be delivered and received as your schedule permits. Asynchronous communication could be an email, writing notes in a task management app, or leaving a voice message for someone to listen to when they have the chance. 

Thought-leaders in the field of the Future of Work seem fairly unanimous in their assessment that remote working is here to stay, with most employees demanding a hybrid model where they spend anywhere between 1 and 4 days per week in the office. As leaders grapple with the implementation of these arrangements, one thing is clear: for the first time ever, consideration is going to need to be given to precisely how people should be spending their time when they’re in the office – what will they be doing, and with whom. 

Which then begs the question – how should people be spending their time when they’re working from home? In my view, it’s a mistake to try and replicate the office experience – the whole point of remote working is that it’s not like the office. Certainly from the people I speak to, there is a tendency to over-connect – responsible for the by-now-all-too-familiar Zoom-fatigue. This is likely to be the consequence of a number of competing motivations from managers’ perspectives: a genuine need to keep people updated; checking-up (to see if people are working); and checking-in (to see that people are ok). 

If careful thought is being given to making the most of time spent in the office, consideration should also be given to how people can be allowed to make the most of working from home – asynchronous communication is key to unlocking the potential benefits that remote working can bring. 

Using asynchronous communication tools requires high levels of trust – what should be of interest to managers is not the act of working, but the fact that work is being done, and that it’s being done well. People working from home need as far as possible to be in control of their own schedule, and all of us need to have high degrees of empathy in relation to our colleagues’ patterns of working – just because a Zoom call suits you, it doesn’t mean that your co-worker is going to feel similarly thrilled at the prospect. 

Some businesses choose to codify the ways in which they interact with each other in a “Communication Charter” – a document to which all workers agree to adhere that sets out how each communication tool (e.g. Email, video calls, chat functions, telephone) should be used. For some, this may be too much; but as a first step towards making the hybrid model work for you, I would encourage you to be more mindful when it comes to choosing your communication tool, to not default to video calls, and to imagine what it’s like for the other person to be on the receiving end of your communication. 

Be honest, and don’t kid yourself that your reason for choosing Zoom is so that your team can feel “updated” and “included”. More often than not, I bet the real reason will be because it’s easier for you.

I am a bit of a podcast junkie*. A favourite is How to Fail with Elizabeth Day. For uninitiated among you, it’s “a podcast that celebrates the things that haven’t gone right. Every week, a new interviewee explores what their failures taught them about how to succeed better.” Taking a leaf out of Elizabeth’s book, here are the failures that have been most instructive in my life.

1. I wasn’t made a prefect

Not being made a prefect aged 17 was probably my first real “lesson” in life. It was almost as though my housemistress knew this would be the case as, while consoling me, she carefully suggested that it may have had something to do with my tendency to come across as intimidating to younger pupils. I can trace my desire to really know myself, and to be as empathic as possible, to this moment (spoiler alert – both are still Work In Progress).

2. The team I wanted to qualify into at A&O didn’t want me

As a trainee at A&O, my “priority seat” was the private equity team. I loved my time there, but it transpired that I hadn’t made as much of an impression work-wise as a couple of other trainees in my intake, meaning there was no room for me on qualification. There followed a few panicky weeks as I contemplated being out of a job.

Rather than approach any of the other teams I had sat with during my training contract, I went to see a partner in another corporate team for whom I had done a bit of work. She hadn’t advertised an NQ vacancy, but I was able to persuade her to take me on. My initial rejection showed me that my ability to build relationships was going to be just as important in my career as my legal skills.

3. I really messed up the “Seat Plan”

The first time I left law (at 2 years’ PQE), it was to become A&O’s HR Manager for Trainees. One of my responsibilities was to work out how the trainees would move around the firm during their training contract, balancing the trainees’ wishes with the business’s needs. There were 240 of them, and there was some sort of seat rotation every 3 months. The “Seat Plan” was a monster spreadsheet, one which I felt supremely confident of being able to manipulate and keep everyone happy. But I hadn’t planned forward carefully enough – after about 6 months in the job, I realised late one Friday afternoon that there was no way that the Litigation department was going to be able to accommodate every trainee in the September 2005 intake who had not yet obtained contentious experience (a core component of a solicitor’s training) before they were due to qualify.

I was desperate to unburden myself to the Training Principal but had to wait a whole weekend to do so (I have a strong recollection of being at a concert in the Barbican and failing to enjoy any moment of the performance, so strong was my feeling of dread). The Training Principal was brilliant. We didn’t focus on the “mistake” at all, just on how we were going to fix it – I marvelled at her “can-do” attitude. Within a few weeks, we had developed with an external provider a course to teach the core aspects of contentious work which, coupled with practical pro bono experience at a legal advice centre, would satisfy the regulator that the requisite experience had been gained. Many of the transaction-focused trainees were delighted with this solution – and A&O still provides a litigation course to this day.

4. Making mistakes in legal documents

One of the most common areas for development for junior lawyers is attention to detail. However bright and enthusiastic they are, the level of care required to ensure that documents are error-free is always greater than they imagine. Unfortunately, the surest way to improve is if their lack of attention ends up causing a problem. Rarely are these problems insurmountable, and even in the most serious of cases, no one is going to die. But so acute is the desire to never again experience those feelings of incompetence and fear of reproach, that over time most lawyers manage to up their game. This was my experience – but even as a partner, my work was not 100% error-free. However, by then, I had a better sense of perspective, and was usually able to tell a good story and down-play the mistake.

5. Failing to parent guilt-free

My belief in the importance of failure extends to my kids. It’s not in my nature to try and shield them from disappointment; I also remind myself frequently of one of my favourite mantras (“life is a marathon, not a sprint”) – they have quite literally years to achieve their potential. I have always been a full-time working mother and feel confident that our family dynamic and logistical arrangements mean that the time I spend away from home on business will not have a detrimental impact on my boys. In essence, I very much subscribe to the Dereck Winnicott “good enough” style of parenting.

Not suffering from parental guilt is something that I aspire to, and you could be forgiven for thinking that the attitude I describe above is evidence of “job done”. Unfortunately not. I let my older boy give up his piano lessons. I never do arts and crafts. My younger boy is slow to read and write. And don’t get me started on the amount of Fortnite they play.

Will they be ok in the long run? Of course they will. Does that prevent me from feeling guilty? Fat chance. But maybe that’s precisely what ensures I remain (just about) “good enough”.

6. Failure to establish a meditation practice

I have been interested in meditation for about 10 years. My introduction to the practice of sitting still and noticing my thoughts was via a Scandinavian form of meditation called Acem. Originally, I was looking for help to reduce stress while I was trying to fall pregnant. Despite believing the afficionados when they said that regular, sustained practice can bring many benefits, I stopped when my first son was born. Fast-forward 4 years: I’m back in Cardiff and I feel that my life is sufficiently “sorted” to be able to cope with a regular meditation practice. I was keen to meditate with others, and as Acem had not made it as far as South Wales, I opted for a mindfulness practice instead. I completed the standard 8-week introduction to mindfulness course and kept going – for a while. But then I stopped. And then I started. And then stopped again. I tried different apps (Headspace, Calm, Waking Up, Insight Timer); I tried different times of day; I even persuaded my husband to learn, thinking that we might spur each other on. But as I stand today, I still don’t have a regular meditation practice – despite really wanting one, and still being a believer: I know from personal experience that meditation makes me less stressed, more self-aware and less likely to get caught up in negative thoughts.

I am going to conclude by sharing one more thing with you. I am hereby setting myself the goal of a daily 10-minute meditation practice, and you can hold me accountable to that. According to James Clear, it takes on average 66 days to develop a new habit – so you can expect an update from me on this on 21st January 2021!

 

* Other current favourite podcasts include: Eat Sleep Work Repeat (probably the podcast I’ve recommended more than any other to people interested in the future of work); Techish (“a podcast about the intersection of tech, pop culture and life”); Squiggly Careers (fit to bursting with great practical advice about how to take control of your career); and How do you cope? with Elis and John (so important to hear men discussing life’s struggles – and I would encourage all the men reading this to listen to the episode with Emma Barnett talking about life with endometriosis).

“Lawyers make the best managers”, said no one ever.

Of course, many lawyers are excellent managers of people. But I don’t know how many times I’ve heard colleagues complain that their management obligations were “getting in the way of the day job”. And while I have learned a lot from the various bosses I have had throughout my career, many of the lasting lessons on people management have come from witnessing how not to do it.

I was offered a training contract at Allen & Overy exactly 20 years’ ago (what a strange sentence to type) when I was in the final year of a French and Italian degree at Edinburgh University. I can remember feeling a huge sense of relief that the next four years were mapped out for me: two years at law school in Nottingham, and then two years training at A&O’s offices in the City.

If I’m completely honest, for me the main attraction at the time was a combination of prolonging student life and a clear passage to London to join all my friends. Sure, at that stage I had a vague interest in business and was pleased to be joining a firm which may enable me to use my languages, but I don’t recall the academic (or in law firm parlance, “technical”) aspect of law, or indeed the status of the profession more generally, being much of a draw.

(It’s probably no surprise that I chose to qualify into that least technical area of law, corporate, nor that I (first) left law at 2 years PQE to become A&O’s HR Manager for Trainees because I was so keen to have line management responsibility. Had you told me that I would be a partner one day, I would have laughed in your face.)

When I joined A&O, many of my superiors came from generations where intellectual rigour and the prestige of the profession were actually the main reasons for becoming lawyers in the first place. They would certainly have seen themselves as “trusted advisers”, but the notion of the “business enabler” was less common – “manager” and “leader” even less so, although some would have discovered that they were very good in these positions along the way. For the others, not only did they not identify with these terms, they were also quite dismissive of the need for lawyers to develop the skills required to perform these roles well. Delivering excellent work and generating income (which I’m not disputing are the fundamental elements of a successful practice) were what these lawyers chose to focus on. Their style of management (not that they knew that they had one) was consequently “command and control”.

Last month I gave a virtual presentation organised by Legal News Wales to a group of lawyers about how to manage teams remotely. I gave the game away fairly early on by saying that I believed that the best way to achieve this was to become a better manager, and that to do that, they should adopt a coaching style of management.

A coaching style requires managers to give support and guidance, rather than instructions; and to ask questions and listen, rather than offer advice. It’s the very antithesis of “command and control”, and therefore, as I acknowledged in my presentation, a style which is particularly challenging for lawyers. But for the lawyers who manage to buck the trend (and this is something that I can help with) the reward will be happier, more engaged teams: this is desirable at the best of normal times, but even more crucial yet elusive in today’s world of remote working. And lawyers will then find that they have more time to devote to the “day job”.

Today I am very excited to be launching my website.

I first drafted the copy for this site at the beginning of 2020 – before leaving private practice as a lawyer, and before we went into lockdown (for the first time) due to the COVID-19 pandemic. That was 8 months ago.

Why has it taken so long for the website to go live? The obvious answer might be because of the chaos the world was plunged into in March 2020. But that was not the case for me.

The coinciding of lockdown and leaving full-time work provided me with a period of relative calm. From April to July, when I wasn’t coaching, spending time with my family or completing my ILM assignments, I was thinking – about what sort of coach I was going to be and who I wanted to work with. The conclusions I reached, which I have summarised below, meant that, when I dusted off my website copy at the beginning of September, I realised that I was going to have to do a fair amount of editing.

The outcome of my reflection was that I want to put my “first career” to good use. I want my entrepreneurial clients to be attracted to me because of the 100+ deals I’ve worked on, and I want my professional clients to seek me out because of the success I achieved as a lawyer – both as a leader of people and a generator of business. I know myself well, and I know that telling people what to do is not what floats my boat; however, invariably my clients perceive that my experience is of value, and I want to be able to share this where appropriate.

My website is therefore geared towards:

1. people who used to be my clients (Founders, entrepreneurs and CEOs);
2. people who used to be my colleagues and peers (lawyers and other professionals); and
3. the work I used to do (private equity investments, M&A transactions and corporate restructurings).

I am really pleased with the result. I hope those of you who know me well will agree that the site feels authentic. The colour scheme is a nod to my Welsh roots*. The copy is clear, focused and upbeat. And the trainers are a neat symbol: not only do I literally (nearly) always wear trainers, I also feel that they represent the experience that people will get from spending time with me – relaxed, practical, no-nonsense and even, on occasions, fun.

I’m looking forward to the next step on this journey. Ymlaen**!

 

 

*Think flower, not dragon.

**Onwards!