Alex Su @heyitsalexsu

Some of the most strategic decisions I've made in my life weren't because they were part of some clever plan, but because some shit happened and I had to improvise.

1:56 PM ∙ Dec 2, 2021

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During the summer of 2015, I was fired from my law firm job.

I’d never been fired before.

I mean, I understand why he wasn’t particularly kind to me. We probably both realized shortly after I was hired that I wasn’t the right fit. On paper, I was a hotshot Biglaw associate with a federal clerkship under his belt. I probably looked like I was really good at litigation. The firm was looking for someone to take ownership of discovery for all of the class action cases the firm had filed.

I still remember interviewing for the role, which was the first time the partner and I spoke. “I’m not sure you even want this job,” he’d said. “It’s a lot of work and it’s not for the faint of heart.” Which in retrospect was an odd way of recruiting. Usually you tell people about why they *would* want the job right? You don’t try to convince them that it’s not a great job?

Except … it worked. On me, at least. Because the best way to convince me to do something is to tell me that you think I can’t do it. The mere suggestion that I might not be able to do a certain something has that effect on me.

I mean that’s also exactly why I wasn’t a good fit for the firm. I wasn’t licensed, so every little thing I did had to be under the supervision of the partner. Which was the complete opposite of what he was looking for—someone to manage discovery and work up cases independently. Someone to own the process.

I mean, I was already admitted in New York (which was no small feat for me) which meant that theoretically I could handle some matters on my own. But the rules about admission are so complicated, and I didn’t want to violate any of my ethical obligations. So I decided to play it safe until I was admitted to the California bar.

Interesting how “playing it safe” led me to lose my job.

I’m sure the partner saw it differently. He figured that I was the type of person who needed to be micromanaged, who needed guidance every step of the way. So I do understand why he thought I needed to go. I just wasn’t what he needed, so I needed to be replaced.

Another thing that kind of sucks about not being admitted is that you’re kind of out of luck if you’re looking for a job in California. So the timing of my firing was tough. Though, I suppose, whenever you get let go unexpectedly, the timing is probably not great.

Because I hadn’t passed the moral character check.

The moral character requirement has always struck me as kind of an odd part of the process. A group of strangers gathers together for the sole purpose of talking about you—as a person—and based on information you submit and references provided by people you choose, decides whether you’re a decent human being. I mean, I get the reasoning—you don’t want bad people running around suing people or whatever.

But take this as a thought experiment. Think of the worst person you know from your law school class. Like the most terrible person who shouldn’t be admitted to the bar. Do you think it would be difficult for them to get a stamp of approval from the state bar? Probably not, right? I mean, if you were *really* a bad person, finding people who would vouch for you and convince strangers that you’re a good person probably isn’t that hard right?

Anyways. I was still waiting to be admitted. And because no one would hire a lawyer who hadn’t been admitted yet, I was in kind of a tough spot. I mean, I guess it was possible to find some firm, probably Biglaw, that would hire me. But I had decided years ago to never again work for a Biglaw firm. So I felt kind of stuck.

What I should have done was take a long vacation. A much needed break. But being who I am, I thought, well, I need to hurry up and get to my next thing. For some reason I’d always felt rushed to get to the next stage of my career. Without any good options, one that had always been in the back of my mind suddenly popped up.

Why not go solo and handle New York matters while I wait?

It wasn’t a new idea. I’d always thought about running my own business. Entrepreneurship was in the family blood. My father had opened his own medical practice in Queens, NY in the 1980s.

When I was in law school, I had a similar gut feeling. Within two weeks of being a summer associate, I knew Biglaw was the wrong place for me. But it took years of being miserable at my job to finally pull the plug and leave to do something else.

So less than 24 hours after learning that I’d been fired, I made the decision.

I would open my own law practice.

Thanks for reading! This essay was kind of hard to write, partly because I had so many unrelated thoughts and side stories (thanks ADHD) but also because it’s the first time I’m writing in detail about such a painful memory. Stay tuned for Part 2 where I’ll share what it was like to be a solo and how that freed me up to pursue side projects that helped me develop key foundational skills. Which were incredibly important years later when the pandemic hit. Subscribe if you’d like to follow along!