David* has just completed his first year as a qualified lawyer at Emerson Cresswell LLP, and he’s flying. Since his first month, he’s been working closely with a partner who took a shine to him, and has found himself staffed on some major private equity deals, sometimes from inception to close. Billing above target and exposed to plenty of high-level work, David’s peers have started jokingly referring to him as “the chosen one”.

One of those peers is Aisha, who started at the same time as David after graduating, top of the class, from a prestigious law school. She’s not envious of David; she thinks he’s great – and anyway, she’s not sure she wants to bill at 112% right now. She’s billing at 74%, mostly on one-off assignments and usually on the diligence phase, but her involvement in the firm’s DEI groups means she’s highly regarded. Aisha’s been trying to network with partners in fashion and entertainment; in the meantime, she figures, it’s normal to sometimes have an empty in-tray.

David and Aisha are representative of hundreds of lawyers I’ve known, first in my career in Big Law and, latterly, in my role as CEO of Capacity, a legal tech company. Like so many associates, David and Aisha are talented, motivated, and committed to long and successful careers at their firm. But like so many junior lawyers, they’re on track to leave their firm within five years.

Odds-on to leave

When asked, 3 in 5 associates say they intend to still be at their firms in five years. Fast-forward half a decade, and less than 1 in 5 still remain – an “all-time high” five-year attrition rate, according to the latest NALP data. Why are so many associates changing their minds? By looking at the careers of David and Aisha, I think we can arrive at some potential answers to that question.

One year on, and David has cemented his reputation as a rising star. He’s a hit with clients, and the two partners who now keep his in-tray full have told him – off the record – that they’ll “look out for him” if he wants to become a partner. David’s YTD utilisation is up to 124% and he’s just closed his 15th deal. Part of him wonders if he’ll ever have the time to move into tech transactions, the work he really wants. He resolves to take matters into his own hands – even if that means refusing work from the partners who got him this far.

Across the office, Aisha’s struggling. She feels like she’s falling behind her peers, but she keeps being told she’s doing fine – even though her utilisation is down to 68%. Her internal networking has led her to participate in pitches for corporate work in the entertainment industry, which feels like progress, but she’s yet to be staffed on the full deal when pitches are successful. After talking with a close friend at another firm, Aisha decides to refocus on developing core skills to boost her utilisation, putting her ambition of working in fashion or entertainment on hold.

Feeling the push

As things stand, David’s already earmarked as a future rainmaker, but in a specialism he didn’t choose. More than one in three lawyers say career development is an incentive to move firms, and David’s not short of offers. Meanwhile, Aisha feels left behind. She doesn’t know it, but a third of diverse associates who sit in on client pitches aren’t staffed to the corresponding work. Her experience isn’t all that uncommon. It’s safe to say both David and Aisha are having second thoughts about their commitment to careers at Emerson Cresswell.

Fast-forward another year, and people have started to notice that David isn’t himself. For the third year in a row he’s billed well over target, but it’s beginning to take a physical and mental toll. He feels swept onto deals that he can’t refuse. When he finally secures a little work in tech transactions, which he completes alongside his normal assignments, his utilisation hits 300 hours for the month and David’s wellbeing nosedives. With his social life on the ropes and his professional life dominated by work he no longer enjoys, David decides it’s time for a break. When word gets out that David’s leaving, it’s the talk of the office. No one understands what happened to the chosen one.

Meanwhile, Aisha is concerned after her latest annual review, in which she was told she needs to improve her skills and develop a specialism. She’s frustrated, seeing as that’s exactly what she’s been trying to do. Her utilisation has risen to a steady 80% – but it’s often the type of tasks partners know she’s great at, not those that will develop her skills. It dawns on Aisha that there aren’t many senior associates at the firm that look like her. Seeing the writing on the wall, Aisha engages a headhunter. Not long after David disappears from the office, Aisha’s gone too.

Leaving Big Law

You’ll be happy to read that David and Aisha both go on to have fantastic careers – David in a smaller firm, Aisha moving in-house. They stay in touch, and years later are surprised to hear from one another that they hold no ill will towards Emerson Cresswell. Their colleagues were great, the social scene was fun, the perks were brilliant – things just didn’t work out for them there.

Plenty of lawyers leave their firms reluctantly, because they’re not given work that meets their needs, expectations, or capacity. It’s actually the number one reason that associates leave their firms, leading the NALP to emphasise the importance of work allocation in their 2024 “Stay Study” on associate push and pull factors.

Over David and Aisha’s three years at Emerson Cresswell, we saw how this looks in practice. Some associates are deemed to benefit from favouritism, others are pigeonholed for low quality tasks. Some have no time to develop a specialism, others just have no luck. Some feel overlooked and wonder if it’s because of who they are, others are overworked to the point of burnout. Some bill well over target, others well under target. Some leave after a crisis, others leave because they anticipate they’ll soon be pushed.

Addressing attrition

Understanding these experiences can help large law firms address what they say is their greatest challenge of 2024: retaining their associates. Not all young lawyers make the cut – some departures are “wanted” by their firms – but David and Aisha don’t fit that category. Their departures cost Emerson Cresswell between $400,000 and $1 million in lost revenue, sunk training costs, and recruitment expenses. Worse, the firm lost two really promising associates and, in Aisha’s case, an opportunity to promote a Black woman to partner. Those losses can’t be quantified.

I’ve made it my mission to help firms create the circumstances in which talented lawyers like David and Aisha can thrive. I know law firms are as committed as I am to that goal, and it’s been a pleasure discussing the benefits of algorithmic work allocation with their leaders. I’m convinced that, as an industry, we’re on the right track. And I’m excited to see where it takes us – and where it might take people like David and Aisha in the future.

*Names in this article are fictional.