The DOGE Analyst Returns to YOUR Law Firm to Discuss the Rise of Non-Equity Partners: A Sequel

. . . The new legal tech tools raise the level of both competition and sophistication in the legal services market, which not only justify higher fees but also demand more intense and in-depth work to match the ever-increasing complexity of legal services. . . .

Introduction: The DOGE Analyst Returns

Picture this: it’s 2027, and you’re the firm manager of a lean, virtual law firm that’s just closed out a banner year. Two years ago, a brash young data analyst from DOGE stormed into your office, flipped your assumptions upside down, and set you on a path to slash your 170-lawyer headcount and rise from a regional player scraping by at $77.5 million in profit to a global powerhouse posting $188.8 million—a jaw-dropping 244% leap (see What if DOGE Paid a Visit to YOUR Law Firm?). You ditched the building, fired 43 associates, cracked down on cannibalized hours, and then eventually grew back to 170 lawyers as demand surged—all while watching your firm’s profit soar. At the latest partner retreat, the room was silent with disbelief before erupting into cheers—$3.8 million average profit per partner (PPP), a triumph you never dreamed possible.

But success often opens the door to new challenges. Your five superstar partners—rainmakers who helped fuel this rise—have caught BigLaw’s eye. Rival firms are circling, offering bigger platforms (and more money) for their practices, and you’re plagued by a gnawing fear: you’ve wrung every penny from this optimized firm, yet it might not be enough to keep them. No good deed goes unpunished, it seems—you’re proud of what you accomplished but realize there is no time to bask in your success.

Then he walks in again—the DOGE analyst, all swagger and spreadsheets, fresh off decoding petrified Greek scrolls with AI. You force a grin, gesturing to the financials on your desk. “Kid, we owe you big time,” you say, voice tinged with worry. “This firm’s a machine—$188.8 million in profit, $3.8 million PPP, superstars raking in even more.”

“That’s great news!” he responds, “So why the long face?”

“Well, I’m maxed out,” you reply, “and my top five partners are getting poached, and I’ve got nothing more to keep them happy. Thanks to you, we moved mountains to optimize this place, and I don’t see how we can squeeze out a penny more.”

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe, adjusting his glasses. “Did you say optimized?” And without waiting for an answer, his smirk transforms into a genuine smile as he suggests, “It may be that you’re not yet fully optimized. . . .”

You raise an eyebrow as he strolls over, picks up your report, and flips through it like he’s speed-reading a comic book.

“Nice work getting back to 170 attorneys by the way—50 equity partners, 120 associates, all humming at 2,000 hours each. Virtual, efficient, profitable. But tell me something. . . .” he pauses, locking eyes with you, a glint of mischief in his stare, “What’s a non-equity partner?”

You blink. “A what?”

“A non-equity partner,” he repeats, tossing the report back. “You’ve got equity partners splitting the pie, associates grinding away, but there’s this other breed—partners in name, not in profit. Firms like Kirtman & Evans have hundreds, and their numbers are spiking across the profession. Ever wonder why?”

Of course you’ve heard of non-equity partners. But knowing the kid, you simply respond, “I’ve got a hunch it’s not just about titles, partnership tracks, or retention. It’s math, isn’t it? The kind that’s been reshaping this firm ever since you last dropped by.”

And just like that, you’re hooked again. The analyst is back with a puzzle—how non-equity partners (“NEPs”) could be the next lever to pull on your road to even greater success. What started as a restructuring effort to maximize profits has now evolved into a fight to hold your edge—one that digs into why NEPs are exploding across the profession and how they could push your firm past $200 million while keeping your stars aligned within your firm. Let’s break it down, step by step, with hard numbers and a little DOGE-style thinking.

A Quick Look Back

This isn’t your first rodeo with the DOGE analyst. Two years before, he barged into your office and turned your firm upside down, as chronicled in What if DOGE Paid a Visit to YOUR Law Firm? Back then, you were a 170-lawyer outfit limping along at 1500 hours per attorney and $77.5 million in profit. His math—relying on hourly cost rate (“HCR”), hourly profit rate (“HPR”), and a ruthless restructuring—slashed headcount to 127, ditched the building which reduced per-attorney share of overhead from $294,118 to $263,976, and pushed per-attorney hours to 2,000. And as the restructured firm meticulously grew back to its original 170-attorney headcount, profit rocketed to $188.8 million by 2027. Again, with 50 equity partners (“EPs”) and 120 associates thriving in a virtual setup, you’re a lean, mean $3.8M-per-partner machine. And now the analyst is back, and he’s got a new proposal for you—non-equity partners.

Let’s see where this ride takes us.

Section 1: The Tech Trap—Are Your Associates Dragging You Down?

The DOGE analyst retrieves the report from your desk and reads out loud, “120 associates billing 240,000 hours at an average $700/hour rate, racking up $168 million in revenue.”

“Not bad,” he comments to himself before going on to say, “They’re definitely pulling their weight, churning out $98.5 million in profit alongside your 50 equity partners’ $90.3 million haul—totaling that $188.8 million everyone is so happy about.”

But as he settles into the chair across from you, he’s got that look—like he’s about to poke a hole in your pride. “Your associates,” he says, tapping the report, “they’re busy, sure. But busy doing what?”

You lean back defensively and respond, “Look, they’re all doing solid work! And I remind you, we just spent the last two years competing with the biggest firms for 43 of the best lateral-associates this firm has ever hired. . . .”

“Exactly!” he says with a smile.

Sensing your confusion, he attempts an explanation, “Okay, the last time I was here, I remember you waxing nostalgic about the days when armies of associates were pure gold—endless piles of document review and law library runs kept them busy for weeks on end.”

You nod affirmatively while he continues, “And we both agreed that technology eventually turned all of that upside down. Online legal databases ended the library slog, and e-discovery outfits outsourced document review. And AI’s now spitting out draft legal documents in minutes!”  

“Yes,” you acknowledge, “but what’s that go to do with . . .”

Cutting you off, he asks again a little more forcefully, “On paper, your associates are busy, but busy doing what?”

“Well,” you respond matter-of-factly, “Someone has to manage the vendors, review their work, and integrate all of it into the team’s strategy. And we all know AI can be brilliant at times but somebody has to cure its hallucinations and fine tune its writing. . . .”

Now grinning and looking you in the eye, he prods, “Think about what you just said and tell me, doesn’t that sound a lot like the work you did as a young partner managing associates?”

“Yes, I guess it does, doesn’t it,” you concede.

“You see,” he says, “technology has not only been increasing the efficiency of your associates but also their proficiency—and in turn the value they generate for your clients. And if some of your associates, like those standout laterals you just hired, are doing partner level work, why bill them at $700/hour when they are obviously delivering more value than that?”

It may have taken awhile but finally you are both “on the same page.” And the ensuing conversation yields a compelling technology-driven explanation for the rise of NEPs in the legal profession—a relatively new class of law firm “partner.” You both agree that, on the surface, there may be many motivations for introducing NEPs into a law firm’s structure. However, deeper into the conversation, you are both convinced that it is no coincidence that NEPs have proliferated over the last few decades in parallel with the expanding infusion of technology into the practice of law.

The question then is, why?

During the DOGE analyst’s first visit to the firm, that seniority-selecting evolutionary force was easy enough to see when it came time to lay off the 43 associates. Thanks to technology, the needs of the firm had changed over time. With a few moves of a computer’s mouse, senior associates are now able to easily do what might have previously required days to accomplish by junior associates. So, unfortunately, the firm’s junior associates bore the brunt of those layoffs—skewing the associate ranks to more senior levels while increasing their average hourly rate and profit contribution at the same time.

At some point in the conversation, the DOGE analyst walks over to the office whiteboard and begins formalizing your collective thoughts. When the analyst first barged into your office, the firm’s 120 associates average billing rate was $500/hour, generating slim hourly profits after accounting for their costs—specifically, only $137/hour when they were billing just 1500 hours each. Now, the firm’s 120 senior-skewed associates have an average billing rate of $700/hour and at 2000 hours each, they’re pulling in $411/hour profit—better, but not stellar. In fact, their hourly profit contribution is less than half of the equity partners, who bill at an average rate of $1035/hour and clear $903/hour of profit.

And to the extent that your tech-proficient senior most associates are cannibalizing partner-level work—supervision, negotiations, client communications—they are taking a big bite out of firm profits. Soberingly, that bite could be as much as $492/hour ($903 HPR - $411 HPR). With enough work to go around, there is really no justification for withholding that “partner” level work from the senior associates—who are well equipped to do it, albeit with a little oversight from the partners. And if they are creating “partner” level value for clients, then the firm should rationally raise both their salaries and their hourly rates.

Clearly, there needs to be an intermediate solution to the problem.

Whether wittingly or not, law firms have minimized this “cannibalization” loss by knighting their extraordinary associates as “partners”—the non-equity kind of partner. Thus, the move to non-equity partner status is an express recognition of the value produced by these attorneys as they bill their time at rates commensurate with the low-end of the equity partners’ billing rates. Both clients and law firms alike have instinctively grown accustomed to this arrangement over time.

That wasn’t always the case. In decades past, partnership tracks notoriously ended with an abrupt “up or out” edict. Non-elevated senior associates were, in a real sense, “disposable” as firm leverage was then biased to hours-consuming “grunt” work carried out by junior associates. And client spend rates for months-long hand reviews of documents and other such tasks could only be accommodated by junior associates billing at low hourly rates.

Naturally, senior associates who failed to make the partnership cut were squeezed out of such firms where the preponderance of associate work required low hourly rates and the higher-valued associate work was successively being taken over by each rising class of associates. Indeed, in most such firms, the dire consequences of that “up or out” policy were largely ameliorated by routine, if not intentional, attrition of associates as they progressed along the partnership track.

Something has obviously changed over recent decades to transform that former “see ya’, nice to know ya’” partnership track to an “up but not in” home for non-elevated yet high-performing senior associates.

Of course, none of this was done consciously.

Yet, conspicuously, that transformation coincides neatly with the profession’s transition from an analog practice with humans reading and processing data to a digital practice with machines doing that work at the speed of light. The impact of those changes on law firms and their staffing needs was inevitable.

As technology gradually enhanced both the efficiency and proficiency of partnership track associates, firms naturally grew reluctant to aggressively “thin the herd” during each of their year-end associate review cycles. Skilled senior associates, even those with no concrete business development prospects, gradually became viewed as “essential” to the firms’ high value work, especially compared to junior associates whose traditional roles were shrinking with each evolution of legal technology.

Not surprisingly, time spent on matters began piling up more on the high-value side of the legal services scale than the low-value side. Law firms responded accordingly. Previously, discarded senior associates who failed to make partner would often valiantly chalk their six or seven years at a firm up to “a good experience” and put their skills and training to other uses. Law firms now increasingly view that “good experience” as a real investment in human capital and are understandably reluctant to just let it walk out the door—especially when they have ever-increasing opportunities to put it to good use.

This phenomenon is reflected best in project staffing. In the past, law firm project teams typically had a top-down pyramid structure of seniority. Nowadays, when three or four partners meet to discuss a new matter, they often find themselves stopping to say, as an afterthought, “We should assign an associate to this case.”

In reality, one or two of those “partners” in the meeting are salaried NEPs with one foot in a “partner” role and the other in a “senior associate” role. And the firm is better off for it.

Section 2: NEPs Unpacked—Why Are Associates Costing You More Than You Think?

The DOGE analyst is still at the whiteboard, marker in hand, when he spins around with a gleam in his eye. “Alright, we saw that every hour an associate takes from an EP costs you $492 on average.”

He then starts scribbling a scenario. “Say associates swipe 25,000 hours of partner-level work—hearings, negotiations, other partner stuff. That’s $12.3 million in lost profit ($492 x 25,000). Cannibalization, my friend. Your associates aren’t just billing hours; they’re killing profit, by eating into your EPs’ $903/hour profit turf. Now, we know that your EP’s average hourly rate is $1035/hour, and your lowest EP hourly rate in that average is $900/hour. What if we swapped some of your standout associates for NEPs—folks billing $900/hour, salaried at $450K, same $263,976K share of overhead?”

You lean forward and respond, “They’d profit less per hour than EPs, but more than associates. . .?”

“Exactly,” he grins, sketching it out. “The NEPs’ HCR would look something like this: $450K plus $263,976 is $713,976 total attorney cost, divided by 2,000 hours—gives you $356.99/hour. And their HPR is looking pretty good: $900 minus $357 equals $543/hour—$1.086 million profit per NEP ($528 x 2000 hours)—call it $1.1M”

“Got it,” you reassure with a nod to continue.

“So, if an NEP takes an EP’s hour,” he says while jotting down more numbers, “you lose $903 minus $543 or $360/hour, way better than $492—especially over a lot of hours. That means your cannibalization loss on 25,000 hours drops to $9 million ($360 x 25,000).”

“That’s definitely heading in the right direction,” you agree.

Reaching for the legal pad on your desk, you do a couple calculations of your own. “So, coming at this from a different direction,” you volunteer, “as associates, those same attorneys have an HPR of $411/hour at 2000 hours, and their profit contribution is $822k, which means we’re looking at a difference of about $264k or a little more than a quarter million dollars per attorney ($1.086M - $822k). That could add up pretty quickly and nicely as we deputize NEPs.”

You both smile when he observes, “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you!”

He pauses, then adds, “You see now why firms have been onto NEPs for years—call ‘em ‘partners’ to justify higher rates like $900/hour but keep ‘em non-equity so your EPs’ profit shares don’t shrink. No dilution, retained talent.”

“Smart move,” you agree.

“And” he emphasizes, “as your math shows, NEPs aren’t just cannibals on a lean diet; they’re a profit center.”

After letting that sink in, he steps back and continues, “Your firm’s at 340,000 hours—100,000 EP time, 240,000 associate time. What if we mixed in NEPs and cranked the profit dial?”

You cautiously interject, “Honestly, I’m a little concerned about taking on the liability for those $450k NEP salaries, but as a thought exercise. . . .”

“Spoken like a true manager,” he retorts and then says with a note of seriousness, “Don’t forget, you’re only going to pick your best for this role,”

Turning again to the whiteboard, he rallies, “Let’s see how far we can push it.”

Section 3: The NEP Sweet Spot—How Many Push Your Profit to the Max?

The DOGE analyst is now pacing, and the whiteboard is quickly becoming a riot of numbers. “Keep in mind,” he begins, “adding NEPs will, well at least it should, raise your EPs’ hourly billing rates.”

Your eyes narrow when hearing this, and you ask bluntly, “How so?”

“Good question,” he responds, “We’ll get to that in a minute, but first tell me, how do your EPs break down along their hourly rates?”

Glancing to the monthly practice group reports on your desk, you respond, “Well, we have 30 junior partners billing at $900/hour, 15 mid-tier partners at $1180/hour, and our five superstars at $1400/hour.”

After jotting down the numbers on the whiteboard and quickly doing the math in his head, he says, “Got it. I see now where that $1035/hour average for your EPs comes from.”

            The NEP Wedge: Why Rates Gotta’ Rise

Setting down the marker and again taking his seat in front of you, he says, “Here’s the deal. We’ve got a couple of political and mathematical problems to address. First, the political. How well do you think it would go over with your lawyers if you have NEPs billing at $900/hour at a $450k salary while your junior EPs are billing at the same rate and taking home millions?”

“I’m seeing the problem,” you reassure.

“Thought so,” he comments while continuing, “You can see then, how introducing NEPs into a firm’s structure acts as a wedge between the hourly rates of the firm’s associates and its EPs.”

You nod in agreement while he explains further, “Of course, that wedge doesn’t act to reduce the associates’ rates but it does explain, at least in part, why hourly EP rates have been headed toward the moon. You see, wherever you set rates for your NEPs, the rates for your EPs, as a practical matter, will end up sitting on top of your NEP rates.”

You comment, “I guess I had never thought of it that way, but it does make some sense.”

“Right,” he acknowledges, while saying, “And if EP hourly rates have to go up, a firm ought to apply some hard thinking to make sure it’s done the right way—which leads us to the math problem. So, here we go. As you start adding NEPs at $900/hour to your ‘partner’ billing structure, your average partner billing rate and, of course, average partner HPR start heading south.”

“Is that really a problem?” you query.

“Well, it’s not so much a ‘problem’ as it is a choice,” he responds. “Of course,” he adds, “by moving a group of associates to a new attorney group with higher HPRs, your profits will improve. But you’re probably leaving money on the table.”

You shift in your chair a bit while he continues, “Here’s what I mean. We’ve already discussed the fact that your project staffing is trending partner heavy. More and more, technology is serving many of your partners’ needs previously met by associates. And so the average hourly rates and hence average HPR driving profits by those teams is more and more a reflection of the partners’ average hourly rates and their average HPR.”

“I think I’m following,” you say, “If those averages are falling, then we aren’t generating as much profit on an hourly basis per partner. I get that. But we’re still making more than before, aren’t we? So how are we leaving money on the table?”

“Well,” he responds, “we need to shift perspectives here from your firm’s profit accounting to your clients’ view of the bottom-line number on the invoices you send out every month. You see, the mistake you guys make is thinking that your hourly rates reflect the value of your time. I can tell you as a consumer of legal services no client thinks that way. We simply weigh the total cost of our legal spend against the benefit of getting the outcome we want.” 

Noticing your growing discomfort, he says, “No offense, but your hourly rates really are just a crude way of valuing your services. And no client is sitting around wondering if Bob’s hourly rate is a hundred dollars too high. Of course, as a matter of good business practice, we might negotiate discounted rates overall, especially where we have a long-standing relationship with you, to share the risk on our side that the legal spend on some matters may be extended due to no fault of anyone and the risk on your side that other matters may end prematurely due, say, to early settlement. Over time, we should both be happy.”

“No offense whatsoever,” you assure, “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Okay, good,” he continues, “So naturally your clients’ bean counters are doing the same thing we’re doing here—seeing a lot of different hourly rates but understanding that their ultimate monthly spend is driven by, we should call it something else for clarity but for lack of better words, the effective average hourly rate based on the total hours billed for the month.”

“We usually call it the ‘blended rate’ on the invoice,” you volunteer.

“Thank you, ‘blended rate,’ it is,” he repeats and adds, “That sounds like something lawyers would come up with.”

            Arms Race Billing: Why Rates Keep Climbing

Moving on, he explains, “So, more than any individual attorney’s hourly rate, your clients are much more attuned to the blended rate. And if they are trying to make sense of what’s driving the blended rate, they might dig a little deeper to get a sense of how it breaks down between your foot-soldier associates and your strategy-driving partners.

Focusing now on your partners, although the blended partner rate on any given invoice will of course vary from invoice to invoice, across all the invoices you send out to clients, the average blended partner rate will tend toward your average partner hourly rate of $1035/hour. You and your partners have worked hard to establish that price point in your market. Your clients have demonstrated their acceptance of it, and you should work to preserve it. Otherwise, . . .”

“We are leaving money on the table,” you say while completing his thought.

“Right,” he says with a smile, and adds, “Of course, modest shifts in average partner rates may not immediately register with clients so long as blended rates and perceived value remain relatively stable. Yet preserving the firm’s historical pricing structure protects against longer-term erosion of your firm’s market positioning.”

“So,” he continues, “we already know that we need to bump your junior EP hourly rate up from $900/hour which of course will have ripple effects on your other EP hourly rates—I assume shifting them upward somewhat proportionally. Therefore, the number of NEPs we add will dictate the magnitude of that shift so long as our goal is to preserve your $1035/hour average ‘partner’ billing rate.”

“Okay,” you say in reticent agreement, “I guess I’m following you, but that ‘shift’ you’re talking about can’t go on forever. . . .”

“That’s right,” he assures, “There is a limiting function, which is the maximum hourly rate at which you think you can sell your five superstars’ time and keep them billing at 2000 hours.”

“Hmm,” you respond, “That’s a tough one. Top partners at the mega firms are billing at well over $2000/hour these days but we’re obviously not playing in their league.”

“Oh, really?” he queries, “I thought we started this conversation talking about your superstars getting poached by some of those mega firms. Do you think your superstars will be billing their time at $1400/hour if they jump ship?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you acknowledge, “but these hourly rates in the profession are completely getting out of hand. They just keep going up and up and up. Frankly, I’m baffled by it all.”

Grinning, the DOGE analyst jumps up from his chair and returns to the white board and while scrawling away, he says, “The math is really quite simple. Again from the client’s perspective, they aren’t looking so much at the hourly rates on your invoices every month when deciding whether to pay or not. The blended rate gives them a feel for the consistency and magnitude of your overall pricing but what counts is whether the bottom-line number matches their perception of the value of the legal services provided.”

R  x  t  =  V

“And that value,” he continues, “represented by ‘V’ in the equation, is a function of the blended rate ‘R’ multiplied by the total hours ‘t’ billed for the month. If your clients are happy enough with how that equation works out, then they pay you.”

“I don’t disagree with any of that,” you comment.

Continuing, he says, “So let’s manipulate our equation a bit by solving for ‘R’ and when we do, it looks like this. . . .”

R  =  V  ÷  t

“Now,” he asks, “do you remember our very first conversation right here in this office two years ago when we were talking about the endogenous effects of technology on the practice of law?”

“Like it was yesterday,” you reply, adding, “And if I am getting your point, we concluded that because of technology, ‘lawyers now do more with less—fewer facilities, fewer people, less time.’”

“Right!” he exclaims, “And it’s not just technology all by itself. As we’ve been discussing, one indirect consequence of technology is that your old top-down project team pyramid is rapidly inverting, and partners are now doing more and more of the project work as a percentage of total time.”

Jumping to his point, you interject, “And because of their experience, partners tend to be much more efficient in their use of time than junior lawyers.”

“Bingo!” he applauds, while pointing again at the equation to say, “That means on balance, the time-per-project metrics are declining—that’s our ‘t’ in the equation. And if we assume that the value ‘V’ for the legal services provided remains constant from the clients’ perspective, what’s happening to ‘R’—hourly rates?”

“Mathematically,” you respond, “They are going up.”

“That’s right,” the DOGE analyst agrees, “Willing client spend as a proxy for the overall value of your services is a key metric. And with the rapid implementation of generative and analytical AI in the legal profession, the time-per-project metrics are sure to continue their slide. So, none of us should be too surprised if hourly rates keep going up.”

You keenly observe, “Maybe I’m wrong but I sense a bit of a hedge in your ‘not too surprised’ comment.”

“I forget sometimes that I’m talking to Perry Mason,” he laughs.

“That’s right,” he continues, “for a few reasons. First, in competitive markets, we typically observe that most of the benefits of technology-driven productivity gains flow to consumers in the form of lower prices rather than to producers in the form of higher profits.” See Heinz Kohler, Intermediate Microeconomics Theory and Applications, 194-95 (2nd ed. 1986).

After a brief pause, the DOGE analyst adds, “So, we have to wonder if someday even lawyers can’t do an end-run around that law of economics.”

You both get a laugh out of that last comment, and you ask, “Well then, why have lawyers been so lucky in their ability to keep raising hourly rates?”

“Anybody’s guess,” he concedes and then offers one of his own, “But it may be that the market for consumer products does not cleanly map on to the market for legal services.”

“I think I see your point,” you say, “When I buy a big flat screen TV, I can take it home, use it, sell it, or whatever. Somehow the legal services I buy don’t feel quite the same.”

“Yep,” he responds, “Your TV example highlights a classic consumer market: buyers choose based on personal preferences like product features and price, and tech-driven efficiencies in the production of TV’s and their components, like faster chips with more user options, tend to lower prices while boosting quality. You ‘consume’ the TV—own it, enjoy it—without external forces dictating either your choice or enjoyment of the TV. Legal services, as you note, are starkly different. You aren’t buying legal services based on your personal preferences alone but also in contemplation of the preferences and capabilities of an actual or potential adversary.”

“I guess that adds a lot of ‘uncertainty,’ doesn’t it?” you comment.

“Yes, it does,” he affirms, “Think about the adversarial context in which legal services are purchased. In contracts, litigation, or divorce, clients hire counsel ultimately to face an opposing party, each backed by their own tech-savvy lawyers. Decisions aren’t based just on personal preference—they’re strategic, based instead on matching or outgunning the ‘lethality’ of your adversary.”

Struck by a thought, you interject, “You know, we have an old saying among lawyers, ‘When you’re facing dire legal consequences what would you rather have on your side, the law, the facts, or Abraham Lincoln?’”

Smiling, he acknowledges, “That sums it up pretty well,” and adds, “As much as clients might want to economize in selecting counsel, in some situations they have no choice but to go for broke—they hire Abraham Lincoln. That’s why the old game theory models developed by Glenn Snyder, Thomas Schelling, and others to explain the behaviors of countries engaged in arms races are probably more useful in analyzing seller and consumer behaviors in the legal services markets.” See generally, Glenn Snyder, Deterrence and Defense (1961); Thomas C. Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict (1960).

“How so?” you ask.

“Well,” he says, “At first glance, this may seem to conflict with traditional microeconomic theory, which predicts that technology-driven efficiency gains should lower prices. Yet the legal services market—structured by strategic adversarial dynamics rather than pure consumption preferences—deviates from that model in important ways.”

He continues, “As we’ve been discussing, legal tech not only improves lawyers’ efficiency but also their proficiency. So, instead of reducing prices, legal tech often raises the stakes of any legal conflict—like a country improving its missile delivery systems. Of course, lawyers using technology do more in less time—but that ‘more’ can also translate into strategic complexity and advantage, not just efficiency."

He then explains, "This mirrors Snyder’s and Schelling’s insights that introducing new capabilities like nuclear weapons or cryptographic systems doesn't lead to peace—it just changes the nature of the game. The new legal tech tools raise the level of both competition and sophistication in the legal services market, which not only justify higher fees but also demand more intense and in-depth work to match the ever-increasing complexity of legal services.” See, e.g., Glen Snyder, Deterrence and Defense, 98-99 (1961) (“[stable equilibrium lost] if some moderately conceivable technological breakthrough—say, in air defense or in devices for tracking mobile missile launchers—suddenly gave one side a first-strike capability”).

“I certainly get that,” you comment while expanding on the thought, “In times past, a client’s admonition to ‘leave no stone unturned,’ meant turning an army of associates loose on the file room and library. Nowadays, it means hiring the vendor with the best predictive AI tools to analyze terabytes of data while unleashing AI on the legal databases to squeeze out relevant subtleties in the case law.”

“It’s an arms race, isn’t it?” he suggests.

“Yes, it certainly appears that way,” you agree.

            Beyond Rates: The Law Firm of Tomorrow

“Maybe even more than it might appear,” he cautions, “You mentioned vendors, but there’s a new trend afoot.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask.

“Well, the Big 4 accounting firms,” he responds, “aren’t just sitting around waiting for vendors to come up with the same solutions for everybody in their industry. They are, in a real sense, engaging in a true-to-life arms race by investing in their own AI auditing platforms.” See PwC Press Release, PwC US Makes $1 Billion Investment to Expand and Scale AI Capabilities (Wednesday, April 26, 2023).

“That sounds like a huge investment. Why would they do that?” you ask.

He responds, “First of all, there is the practical concern that they face, and come to think of it, you do too. That is the security and confidentiality of their clients’ proprietary information—they can’t just run all of that through ChatGPT.”

“Yes,” you reply, “We’ve had to let more than one of our attorneys go for doing just that.”

“And, of course, there’s a huge drive to outdo their competitors,” he continues, “You could say they are building their own proprietary ‘better mousetraps’ to get a leg up on each other.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” you comment, “Hopefully that won’t be catching on anytime soon in our profession.”

“Ha!,” he responds, “Don’t get too comfortable, my friend. Rumors suggest that it is ‘catching on’ in some firms, and not the ones you might expect. The day may come when the real successful law firms aren’t those with thousands of lawyers scattered across the globe sipping lattes in all the nations’ capitols. Without a doubt, this new technology is disruptive. So, when you team the best legal minds up with the best of this new tech, . . . well, you get my point.”

“As much as it pains me, I do get your point,” you respond, “And getting back to the point of pricing in the legal profession, I guess what you’re saying by all of this is that we really don’t have much to worry about when it comes to the rates we charge, do we?”

“Well, not exactly,” he explains gently, “I think it was you who, in our first conversation, coined the term ‘exogenous AI effects’ when discussing client self-help strategies.”

“Sure, I’ll take credit for that,” you smile. 

With a hint of admiration, he builds on your concept, “For example, when I was working on my first startup during the summer before high school, I, of course, had no money but needed to draft up some supply contracts with the guys at the other school. . . .”

“Wait! What? You weren’t even in high school?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“Yeah, that’s Silicon Valley for ya’ and I guess you could even say I was a late bloomer,” he says before continuing, “So I rode my bike to the local library and found these ‘form’ books with lots contracts, wills, and other stuff. I pieced a few things together into something that looked ‘good enough’ to me and my suppliers, and we simply went with it. Times have changed, my friend. I’m sure you’re aware of some of the amazing software tools out there that now spit out any kind of contract you want tailored to your situation and all the relevant jurisdictions. . . .”

“Boy, am I,” you acknowledge.

Continuing, he says, “So, that ‘looks good enough’ threshold is quickly going through the roof, and in the hands of the sharp in-house lawyers at my companies, that software is certainly good enough to keep us from hiring outside counsel any time soon to draft even complex contracts. And it looks like there is a lot of other similar tech coming online for things like patent drafting. . . .”

As he pauses, you chime in, “So if I’m being optimistic, what you’re saying is that, for now, there won’t be any huge AI tsunami that washes away our business. . . .”

“I would think so,” he agrees and, picking up on your analogy, he adds, “It’s more like you have a series of waves that keep battering away at the menu of services that you offer, little by little. But that in-court stuff you do, I think that’s safe territory for quite a while. I mean, you all have been doing a pretty good job keeping the accountants out of your profession, I’m not expecting robots to be showing up in courtrooms anytime soon.”

“We do have that going for us,” you concur, and with a forced grin on your face, you say, “So, basically AI’s threatening to outflank us in certain places, but we’ve got a fighting chance.”

“Maybe,” he says with a smile in response, but then cautions, “What remains to be seen is whether the current law firm structure is, what we say in Silicon Valley, the best ‘platform’ to deliver AI-fueled legal services by lawyers.”

“How so,” you query.

“Like I say, nobody really knows,” he responds, “This is probably a conversation for another day, but we’ve already seen how IT advancements in the legal profession have pushed everyone toward more seniority-dominated work as a percentage of total project time and smaller teams overall. How far and in what form AI will extend that trend over time is a question left unanswered. . . . Which brings us back to the task at hand, adding a new class of senior attorneys to your firm’s roster—NEPs.”

            Scenario Showdown: Testing the NEP Mix

“Yes, let’s do get back to that,” you respond, “I think we were discussing the idea of raising our EPs’ hourly rates. . . .”

“Correct,” he says, “But first, tell me a little more about the trends in your average per attorney billed hours production and your pipeline of future work.”

“Well,” you say, “All of that is very positive. Our per attorney hours are solid at 2000 hours and actually trending above 2000 in several situations. And we have a steady stream of new requests for proposal coming in from clients.”

“Great to hear,” he applauds, while continuing, “So, it’s safe to assume that your market’s demand is matching, if not surpassing, your firm’s supply of services. Not a bad time to think about raising rates. And, whatever we do, we shouldn’t stray to too far from your market-tested $1035/hour average partner rate.”

After a brief pause, he adds, “But there is one outstanding question. . . . If you were to raise EP hourly rates, what do you think about choosing $1800/hour as the outer limit for your five superstars?”

“Hmm,” you demur while in thought, “That could be pushing it, but this is just a thought exercise, isn’t it?”

The DOGE analyst chuckles and says, “Well, if you were to raise their rates that high, it might be a telling reality check for them—to see if they can hack it before running off to one of those mega firms where they likely will be billing at even higher rates than that.”

Reliving the recent headaches caused by your superstars, you say out loud to yourself with a tinge of cattiness, “Money where your mouth is. . . ,” and then, turning to the analyst, you say with renewed conviction, “Then, in that the case, how do we determine the right number of NEPs for our firm?”

“Well, the math is really quite straightforward,” he reassures.

Turning again to the whiteboard, the analyst rattles off the following explanation while scribbling away with a rapidly fading marker, “Assuming all attorney groups are averaging 2000 hours with their corresponding HCRs and HPRs derived from those 2000 billed hours, all we have to do is work through the this profit ‘P’ maximization equation subject to the limiting functions that we discussed, including the proportional shifting of EP hourly rates, R_bottom, R_mid, R_top, while maintaining the overall ‘partner’ average hourly rate at $1035/hour and insuring R_top is less than or equal to $1800/hour.”   

Abruptly, the marker’s squeaking stops, and the analyst steps back, face beaming with pride while gesturing at the whiteboard with the now flattened marker to say, “And when we do, it looks something like this!”

Max P = (H_EP × (R_EP - $132)) + (H_NEP × ($900 - $357)) + (H_A × ($700 - $289))

Subject to:

H_EP + H_NEP + H_A = 340,000 (total hours)

[(H_EP × R_EP) + (H_NEP × $900)] ÷ (H_EP + H_NEP) = $1,035 (partner avg)

R_top ≤ $1800 (top 5 superstar EPs)

R_EP = (30 × R_low + 15 × R_mid + 5 × R_top) ÷ 50 (EP rate avg)

R_mid = 1.3111 × R_low (proportional mid-tier)

R_top = 1.5556 × R_low (proportional top-tier)

H_EP ≤ 100,000 (max 50 EPs × 2,000)

Ignoring your lost stare and while admiring his own handiwork, the analyst goes on to say, “Of course, next we have to manipulate our optimization equation to isolate R_EP and then impose the proportionality constraints. . . .”

“Stop!” you nearly scream, and, after composing yourself for a second or two, you ask calmly, “I realize this all may be ‘straightforward’ to you, but is there a way to do this in a way that might be a little more straightforward to me?”

“Yeah,” he concedes, “I guess it’s getting a little gnarly, isn’t it. Tell ya’ what, let’s just start walking through some scenarios and see where we end up.”

“Thank you,” you respond in a subdued voice.

He turns back to the whiteboard and while picking up a new marker, he says, “Okay. We already have our baseline numbers down cold, so we can just jump ahead to adding NEPs, while holding our ‘partner’ average rate somewhere around $1035/hour. I think I can do a lot of this in my head and just get to the bottom-line numbers for you. Let’s start with 20 NEPS, and see where we end up.”

After some more writing and a few contemplative pauses, he backs away from the whiteboard and presents the following data and computations:

“There,” he says, “We don’t exactly hit $1035/hour but we’re in the neighborhood. One thing is pretty clear, if we are going to push your superstars up close to $1800/hour to optimize the number of NEPs, then we’ve missed by mile. Let’s jump to 35 NEPs and see what happens. . . .”

You can almost see the wheels in the analyst’s head turning as he does more writing and computing for the following 35 NEP scenario:

“Not bad,” he says as he backs away from the whiteboard, and comments further, “We’re staying close to our target average and putting some nice distance between the NEPs and your EPs. However, I think if we add just 15 more NEPs, we will be hitting the sweet spot. . . .”

“Bullseye!” he exclaims. “We are spot on $1035/hour and each of your three EP billing rates have real nice round numbers, with your five superstars maxing out at $1800/hour!” he exudes and then adds while gesturing to the whiteboard, “You can see I bumped the superstars up a little more than the others, which should help you sell their heftier percentage shares to the other partners. And look at this, your 15 mid-tier EP rates are still $100 less than your five superstars’ current rate of $1400/hour. We’re not exactly breaking the bank here with these numbers. . . .”

“Hmm,” you respond with a little bewilderment. “I agree, the hourly rates are ‘nice round numbers’ but I was actually focusing more on the number of NEPs you have in that scenario. Don’t you think 50 NEPs is going a little overboard?” you ask.

“Well,” he responds, “You did say that you just hired 43 of the best lateral associates this firm has ever hired, didn’t you?”

“I did say that, yes, and I meant it,” you filibuster, “And come to think of it, just about any one of them could justifiably bill their time at $900/hour. . . .” you fade off and then interject, “And one more thing, this leaves us with only 70 associates.”

“Maybe it’s just me,” he says, “But that still sounds like a lot of associates, especially with the growth rate of AI agents that will be mopping up more and more of their work.”

“And” he adds, “just because your NEPs get a new title and bigger hourly rate doesn’t mean that they won’t continue doing most of their current work. Don’t forget, one of our objectives is to price that work more in line with the value it already produces.”

“I get that,” you respond. And thinking out loud, you say, “I guess one could argue this kind of restructuring is a defensive move to hedge against all this new technology taking the profession by storm. . . .”

“So . . . , this isn’t just a crazy idea, then, is it?” he asks sincerely.  

“No, not crazy at all,” you respond, “But, I guess I might need just a little time to stew on this some more.”

“How about this,” he begins, “While you are stewing on things, let’s move on to the next step and see what this does to your bottom-line profits.”

Section 4: The Big Reveal & Dividing the Equity Pie

“Okay, kid,” you say, leaning back in your chair in a small display of skepticism, “If you think this will keep my superstars from walking out the door and align our firm more with how other firms are dealing with this new digital age, then go ahead and paint the full picture in dollars and cents.”

Undaunted by the battlefield of numbers at war on the whiteboard, the DOGE analyst retrieves the last functioning marker and gets to work. Finding some unused space in the whiteboard’s margins, he manages to summarize your firm’s current structure with two classes of attorneys—associates and EPs—toiling away at 2000 hours per attorney while producing $188.8M of profit and an admirable $3.8M PPP. Until recently, your partners had been happy enough divvying up that considerable sum, but now you’ve got to squeeze out even more or risk your superstars getting new login credentials to another firm’s IT system.

The DOGE analyst emphasizes that the intention of this exercise is to increase profits without increasing total billed hours and, importantly, without drastic headcount changes like the last time he visited your firm. As seen previously, he notes that the 50 NEPs’ $450k salaries combined with their per capita shares of $263,976 of firm overhead results in an HCR of $357/hour and HPR of $543/hour or about $1.1M of profit per NEP. And as your own calculations showed, they produce roughly $13.2M more profit as a group than if they remain in their current associate roles ($264k x 50).

He reminds you that the NEPs’ enhanced HPR—$543 per hour, 33% above the associates’ $411 per hour—slashes cannibalization loss when these skilled attorneys handle partner-level work. Then, he drops a bombshell, tackling a nagging worry that’s kept you and your partners up at night—the dilution of equity profit shares when new EPs join the partnership.

It’s almost as if the analyst had read your mind. Recently, you and your partners have been caught on the proverbial “horns of a dilemma.” A few of your most talented, business-savvy senior associates are justifiably itching for equity status, and you fear losing them to rivals if they’re not promoted soon. But with the mega firms circling your five superstars, you’ve had to put those promotions on hold, dreading the dilution hit you’d take by splitting up the equity pie into even more slices.

As you divulge the details of this dilemma to the analyst, he jumps in to say, “Move those associates to NEP status. It’ll buy you another review cycle to keep them happy and set you up to minimize dilution when they eventually hit equity. Then when you do promote those high achievers to EPs, replenish or even expand your NEPs with new ones from your associate pool.”

“You see,” he says, “The NEPs’ higher profits—$1.1 million each versus $822K for associates—pack a bigger punch in offsetting your equity dilution than hiring a bunch of new junior associates.”

He concedes that neutralizing dilution can be tricky, with no one-size-fits-all fix. But elevating high-performing associates to NEPs, with their heftier profit margins, lessens a firm’s reliance on other alternatives like hiring more associates to bulk up leverage or jacking up EP rates to cover new partners.

“It’s not just about keeping talent,” he adds, “The mega firms have been on to this play for a long time. Some even have more NEPs than twice the number of their EPs.”

“Fascinating,” you say, while sharing your thought, “There’s an irony here that I had not appreciated. The whole NEP thing gets a bad rap sometimes as a bait-and-switch scam that law firms use to extend partnership tracks and ultimately trap talented lawyers into career stagnation with ‘golden handcuffs.’ But you’re saying firms use NEPs to expand equity partnerships, not shrink them?”

Amused by your comment, the analyst quips, “I wouldn’t paint them as saints quite so fast. But yeah, in top-tier firms like yours, where the dilution and superstar retention dilemma can be a really big deal, NEPs are a nice tool to have in the toolbox.”

Moving on, the DOGE analyst explains that one practical assumption in his computations is assuming that the average hourly rate of the remaining 70 associates will hold at $700/hour after advancing 50 of their ranks into the new NEP positions. On the one hand, removing 50 of their more senior members might result in a lower average hourly rate, including lower average HPR, for the remaining associates. On the other hand, many of the remaining associates are up for promotion in the coming round of year-end reviews. You and the analyst agree to conservatively use the $700/hour assumption for this scenario.

Despite the ever-crowding whiteboard, the DOGE analyst manages to present a rather straightforward and elegant comparison of your firm’s current structure with his proposed 50 NEP and 70 associate restructuring of the firm’s salaried attorneys and changes in the EP hourly rates:

“Wow!” he exclaims, “Just eyeballing it, I’d say that’s more than a 14% leap in profit, pushing you over $215 million—without billing a single hour more. And it looks like your new PPP comes in strong at $4.3 million—adding over a half million per partner. Hard to believe, just two years ago, you guys were squeaking by on $77.5 million and $1.6 million PPP. That’s a 278% increase!”

“It is hard to believe,” you agree as you sit back, taking it all in.

“And one thing jumping off the board,” he continues, “is that real nice +$26.8 million profit number—looks likes some simple long division will go a long way in keeping your five superstars happy, right here at your firm. That’s over $5 million each, if you end up going that way.”

“I am definitely seeing the possibilities,” you concur and then add, “They were already getting well over our current $3.8 million PPP.”

“Eight figures sure seems doable without making anyone else worse off—not bad at all for a few rain-making superstars at a 170-attorney law firm,” he comments and then adds, “So, I guess the next step is selling all of this to your partners.”

Agreeing, you and the DOGE analyst turn your attention to preparing slides for your upcoming presentation at the partner retreat.

Section 5: Your Pitch and the Final NEP Showdown

Since becoming a homeless virtual law firm that can now afford a few extra luxuries, you and your partners have gathered for your annual retreat on a quiet tropical island. Suntanned and clad in an assortment of floral attire, your partners seem genuinely pleased to be together again, in person, and joke with each other about the irony of having real-life island surroundings instead of a couple of palm trees pictured in some online virtual background.

Seeing you sitting next to the DOGE analyst before the meeting begins, a couple of partners walk over to say “hello.” Smiling, one of them says to you, “Your email said that you have a few restructuring proposals for us today,” and gesturing to the analyst, she ribs, “And if he’s here, maybe we should open the bar before the meeting starts!”

After sharing a nice good-natured laugh, you rise to start the meeting and your presentation.

All goes according to plan. Your partners listen attentively as you walk through the salient points that you and the DOGE analyst discussed just a few days before. Of course, everyone seems genuinely pleased about the bottom-line outcome of your proposal—$215M of profit and a solid $4.3M PPP.

The members of your partner compensation committee seem especially engaged as you delve deeper into how these numbers break down. You click on the slide showing how the EP’s generated profit of $103,801,181 results in about $2.1M of per-partner generated profit (“PPGP”). The next slide breaks that number down even further, showing PPGP by each partner group:

One of the committee members comments that these PPGP figures align well with the partnership’s current compensation structure and should serve as nice baselines for making further compensation decisions. She is even more delighted with your next slide, showing that the new NEP proposal produces $111.8M of total “leverage” or a $2.2M per-partner share of leverage (“PPSL”). With a smile, she notes that the scenario’s greater leverage and PPSL figures would give the committee a lot more flexibility in coming up with specific proposals for individual partner compensation.

Given your receptive audience, you quickly walk through the remainder of your slides and open things up for discussion. At first, the discussion proceeds as you might have predicted from the polite attention paid by your partners during the presentation.

A couple of partners begin by stating their shared view that introducing NEPs into the firm and catching up with the rest of the profession is “long overdue” and that they fully support the idea. Others see the benefit of extending the EP track a little longer to provide more informed consideration of individual candidates for equity elevation.

Then slowly some contrary voices begin making their way into the discussion.

One small group of partners echo your initial unease about committing to the substantial NEP salaries. After further input from members of the associate review committee, however, those concerns are largely put to rest. Others question the number of NEPs in the proposal and suggest scaling up the number of NEPs over more than one review cycle.

The group’s full attention, however, is quickly captured by a more fundamental objection to the idea of calling non-equity partners “partners” at all.

One partner, Jim, sitting in the front row, succinctly summarizes that concern, “If we want to justify higher rates for more senior salaried employees, then why not just call them ‘of counsel’ attorneys instead of diluting the value of our own status as ‘partners’ and owners of this firm. If we create NEPs, then every time we introduce ourselves, there will always be this question hanging in the air, ‘are we an EP or an NEP imposter?’” While letting that sink in, he adds, “If this firm has ‘partners,’ then they should be committed to its success and contributing meaningfully to its business development.”

The room tenses. You turn to the DOGE analyst, who’s calmly smiling like he’s been expecting this all along. You quietly whisper to him, “That’s a fair point,” while adding, “The ‘partner’ title carries weight—ownership, prestige, it means our skin is in the game.” You begin to ask, “How should I. . . .” but before you finish, the analyst is on his feet, standing at the podium.

“Hi everyone,” he begins. “It’s been a while, and it’s great to see you. I must say, you’re all looking . . . prosperous!”

After some reserved laughter, he continues, “As you know, I’m not a lawyer. But on occasion, I am a client. And I’ve been around long enough to know that when I see the words, ‘of counsel,’ I’m looking at a niche expert or someone soon on their way to retirement. I’m glad they’re on the team, and I know they’re showing up on the invoice for solid reasons.”

“But” he says, “an invoice is one thing. . . .”

And after trailing off in thought, he appears to change gears completely.

“Allow me to tell you a brief love story,” he says.

One of the practice group leaders sitting next to you leans over and asks, “Where’s he going with this?”

“I have no earthly idea,” you confess.

Gathering momentum, the DOGE analyst dives into his story, “My grandfather immigrated to this country while he was still dating my grandmother. Before boarding the ship, he kissed his girl and promised to send for her as soon as he made his mark. Two years later and true to his word, he gave her a big hug and a kiss after she arrived here from the other side of the ocean.”

With the room now silenced, he says, “And my most prized possession of everything I own, is a banker’s box filled with the letters they exchanged during those two years. Nobody writes like that anymore. Every word counted, and every sentence touched the heart. Would have been the easiest thing for either one of them to just walk away and find somebody else. Under the circumstances, who could blame them? But they didn’t. They stuck it out, remained true to each other, and had a great life together.”

“I remember asking them one time,” he recounts wistfully, “What’s the secret to your success? And you know what, they both said in perfect unison, ‘We always give credit for the good things to each other and place responsibility for the bad things on ourselves.’ Now, they were true ‘partners.’ The real deal.”

“So,” he says in a hushed voice, “I can’t think of a better description than the word ‘partner’ for someone who has spent over seven years of their lives with you, working the same late nights and weekends, and worrying just as much as you about how things will shake out for your clients. These are some bright people, heck, you hired them. We all know they could have run off for other opportunities, and they probably stiff armed a lot of recruiters along the way. But they stuck it out.”

You and the practice group leader exchange glances while noticing Jim’s growing agitation on the front row and his half-raised hand.

Undoubtedly noticing the same thing, the DOGE analyst turns his gaze upon Jim, and says, “Of course, you paid them fair and square and owe them nothing.” He pauses as he skips back a few slides, and then says, “But it strikes me that this $111.8M of leverage that could be generated by these geniuses that you hired would be going straight into your pockets—and let’s not forget that’s $2.2M of PPSL on average for each of you. Well, that is, of course, if you can find some other way to justify raising your top 50 associates’ hourly rates to $900 and keep the pipeline of work flowing.”

You notice that Jim’s half-raised hand has fallen back into his lap.

The practice group leader leans over and whispers to you, “Everyone has a price. . . .”

“On occasion,” the analyst resumes, “I wonder how things would have been different for my grandparents if they were living through those two years of heartbreaking separation today. They wouldn’t have to wait weeks in between letters. They could send endless text messages everyday with little emojis and pictures memorializing their days. They could even jump online and talk for hours with each other using FaceTime or some other app. And they would be up to date with each other’s families and friends after perusing their Facebook pages. The only real tragedy, I guess, is that I wouldn’t have my cherished box of letters. . . .”

As if returning from some other world, he says, “Which brings me back to your invoices. It’s one thing for your clients to see your attorneys’ names and titles on invoices—they’re already your clients. What’s critical to your business is how your attorneys present to your broader market—your potential clients. In the past, the old timers here in this room, like my grandparents, were pretty much limited to analog communication. You might get your name and title on some article that you convinced someone to publish or hand them out at conferences on your business cards. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, but somehow you pulled it off.”

“Nowadays,” he continues, “your firm’s website has everyone’s pictures, titles, biographies, and a bunch of other information. And I dare say just about all of your lawyers are actively engaging with other professionals and potential clients on social media, publishing short commentaries and insights on a daily basis with the potential to reach millions. So, wouldn’t you agree that it is in everyone’s best interest, all of you sitting here today, to present your attorneys in the absolute best possible light?”

A growing symphony of whispers erupts among the partners as the DOGE analyst pauses for emphasis, and a quick drink of something from a short glass adorned with a tiny umbrella.

Resuming his remarks, the analyst says, “And if you have highly competent lawyers whom you trust to call and advise clients in your absence, what’s stopping you from holding those gems out to the public as your ‘partners’ and as representatives of everything great about this firm?”

“In my world,” he says, “we call that ‘branding’ and with the near endless potential of social media’s network effects, you have a rare opportunity to brand as many as 50 of your brightest lawyers as ‘partner’ and elevate their ambassadorial status for your firm. Is it any wonder then why so many law firms are doing this? Of course the ‘partner’ title paves the way to raising their hourly rates and profitability. But it does so much more than that, and the $450k that you pay them is a pittance in comparison with that incalculable value—especially if you have a dedicated and sharp marketing group to support and facilitate their networking activities with press releases, legal updates, attorney spotlights, interviews, and, well, you get my point.”

“Get his point” they do.

To a person, Jim included, your partners erupt in applause as the DOGE analyst concludes his remarks. And when the clapping finally subsides, you hear the hotel staff hard at work in the adjoining conference room putting their final touches on your buffet lunch.

Your partners stand and begin migrating to the next room, and after seating themselves around the haphazardly placed circular tables, settle into their meals and their conversations. The conversations are as varied as there are tables. But eventually, they all strike a common theme as the partners begin expressing their shared satisfaction at the thought of informing their favorite associates of the upcoming promotions to NEP.

Conclusion & A Glance Ahead

Shortly after lunch, you find yourself standing on the island’s airport tarmac with a few of your practice group leaders at your side. You watch the DOGE analyst’s private jet lift off over the waves and into the blue skies above.

“Odd fellow,” someone comments.

“Yes,” you agree while adding, “Perhaps that’s his edge. The ability to see things differently from the rest of us. Maybe we just get a little old and set in our ways sometimes.”

“Any idea where he’s headed,” another partner asks.

“Not sure,” you respond, “I just hope he’s not headed to law school.”