Ben Reach had followed with interest the career of Rob Smith since his days as a high school student in Albany where he had been valedictorian and captain of the baseball team. He had gone on to Ben’s Alma Mater, University of Georgia, and from there to Harvard Law where he had done well. He’d landed a clerkship with a Federal District Judge and was finishing that year when he called Ben and asked to see him for advice on his next career move.
Ben welcomed the opportunity and asked if he could invite Sam Nixon MD to join them. Rob agreed enthusiastically—Sam had been his parents’ physician before their move to South Florida for retirement.
The three met in Ben’s library-conference room at four on a Thursday in early May. Ben poured them each two fingers of The Macallan Twelve. Rob sipped his neat, Ben and Sam added a splash of club soda. None added ice.
Ben knew the judge Rob was clerking for and Rob confirmed the experience had been rewarding. Rob explained several of the complex cases and revealed himself as a dead serious analytical thinker the curmudgeons knew he must be to have arrived where he now stood, blessed with opportunities in countless directions—further judicial clerkships at the Court of Appeals level, a post in the United States Justice Department or any of a dozen other federal agencies, or law firm jobs in any city in the U. S. he might choose, or a detour to a top graduate business school. Rob quickly indicated he would stick with law for his next move and his inclination was to seek an associate position with an Atlanta firm and try litigation.
“You know the work hours that will mean?” Ben asked.
“Yes, Sir. I know it means all the waking hours I’ll have except the few I can steal on an occasional weekend.”
“And that schedule does not bother you?” Ben asked.
“No, Sir. I don’t mind work or long hours.”
“And what are your hobbies?” Sam asked.
Rob answered with reading, music, higher math studies.
Ben and Sam looked at one another. They had been here before. They had a practiced response to it. The only issue now was which of them would deliver it, which would chime in responding to Rob’s reaction to the pitch. Since Ben had asked Rob most of the questions so far, they decided Sam would deliver their message today.
“Rob, you know you have a great professional future ahead of you, which ever direction you head out on now. And you may change direction one or more times before you find your ultimate career, in law or business or government or academia or somewhere else. You are blessed with a first class mind, a great work ethic, intensity. You do not appear to be afraid of anything. We’ve got just one piece of advice for you.”
Rob was on the edge of his seat. Ben poured him a dividend of The Macallan, then poured one for Sam and himself. Sam resumed.
“You need to develop a passionate hobby or two, something totally unrelated to your work life, preferably pursued outdoors so you get some exercise and meet some people not in your professional circle, not in your economic circle. Something you can lose your self in and not worry about anything else while you are at it.”
“ So what are your passionate hobbies?” Rob asked.
“Mine are bird dogs and field trials, fly fishing,” Ben said.
“And mine are photography and fly fishing,” Sam said.
“Why,” Rob asked.
“Because you can’t watch a bird dog work and at the same time worry,” Ben said.
“Or cast a fly for a fish and worry,” Sam said.
Soon after that exchange Rob thanked the curmudgeons and took his leave.
To be continued….