Big Law isn’t the villain—it’s a powerful training ground. Despite criticism, it offers unmatched experience, rigor, and opportunity. Instead of demonizing it, we should respect every lawyer’s path and celebrate choice, growth, and excellence across all corners of the profession.
Grab yourself a drink—bourbon if you like, water if you don’t, anything you want.
Drop in two ice cubes. Let it open up, but not water down.
And let’s talk about it.
Everyone loves to bash Big Law.
You’ve heard the script: endless hours, toxic partners, soulless grind. It’s become the profession’s favorite punching bag—the place everyone loves to escape from and complain about on the way out.
But here’s the truth: that narrative isn't universal truth.
The constant bashing isn’t just lazy—it’s harmful. It discourages smart, ambitious young lawyers from pursuing a path that could be transformational for their careers. We’re scaring people away from one of the best training grounds and some of the best opportunities in the profession. While Big Law may not be for everyone (and what is?), for some, it's a great path.
Big Law gives you a front-row seat to some of the most important cases and deals of our time—and the chance to work with some of the most brilliant lawyers of our time.
You train with the best. You learn from the best. You are pushed to be excellent.
The pay is exceptional. The work is sophisticated. The stakes are high. The prestige is real.
Those are good things, not bad ones. Those are things to aspire to, not run from.
Is it hard? Of course it’s hard.
So is medicine. So is entrepreneurship. So is running your own firm. So is anything worth mastering. And guess what? The law is hard. I don't care where or how you practice, the law is a demanding profession. If you think leaving Big Law will result in a life on easy street, you're misinformed and mistaken.
Early on, you might be reviewing documents, building charts, or summarizing memos—and yes, it can feel tedious. But later, you’ll realize that what you gained was discipline, precision, and professional instinct. Those early years are the foundation of everything that follows.
I’ve worked in Big Law, boutiques, and in-house. I’ve hired lawyers from all of them. And I can tell you that there is a difference. Lawyers trained in Big Law often bring a higher baseline of rigor and quality. That’s not universal—there are great lawyers everywhere—but the odds are better when someone has come up through a demanding environment.
"But Everyone There's an A**hole"
Sometimes, yes.
But there are a**holes everywhere—in government, in small firms, in nonprofits, in coffee shops. Humanity has a decent supply of them.
The trick is to find your people: the right firm, the right mentors, the right team, the right feel. Don’t stay somewhere toxic. But also don’t run just because of one bad experience (there are exceptions, of course, but I am not talking about the corner cases).
And definitely don’t let the social-media mob convince you that leaving Big Law is the only way to be happy or “authentic.” That’s just trading one illusion for another.
"You're Just Depending the Devil"
What sparked this article is a growing trend I see from lawyers outside Big Law to constantly attack, as if everyone and everything about Big Law is rotten. Does Big Law have problems? 100%, and I will discuss that next. There are some real, systemic problems that are hurting the profession. Big Law does not get a pass.
But the bashing is too much. If you found success outside of Big Law, good for you, but there's no need to turn that into a chip. Yes, talk about why what you do is great, but we could all use less of the “here’s why they’re terrible” attacks on everyone else.
That’s lazy, and it’s wrong.
It reminds me of the old Chicago baseball divide.
Cubs fans pack Wrigley. Always have. Always will. Sox fans? Can't even get a minyan. Rather than acknowledging that reality, Sox fans defer to, “Yeah, but Cubs fans aren’t real baseball fans. We’re the real ones.”
Same vibe.
If you can’t beat the attendance numbers, change the metric and tell yourself you’re morally superior.
That’s what this anti–Big Law narrative has become—a story we tell ourselves to justify our own path.
You can be proud of being a lawyer without hating Big Law.
You can respect Big Law training without wanting to live that life forever.
You can acknowledge that corporate defense work has value without compromising your sense of justice.
Different paths, same profession.
And if we want the next generation of lawyers to feel empowered, we should start by celebrating choice—not demonizing it.
Big Law isn’t the villain.
It’s the crucible.
And for thousands of great lawyers, it’s where everything truly began.
