via
Getty)
Confidence
is
misunderstood
in
our
profession.
Young
lawyers
often
think
confidence
is
volume.
It
is
the
booming
voice
at
a
hearing,
the
perfectly
timed
objection,
the
sharp cross-examination that
leaves
opposing
counsel
blinking.
It
is
the
partner
who
never
seems
rattled or unsure.
That
is
theater.
Real
confidence
is
much
quieter and built
long
before
anyone
is
watching.
I
remember
my
first
assignment
as
a
lawyer.
I
had
just
passed
the
bar
and
had
been
sworn
in
by
a
notary
at
the
firm.
A
file
was
handed
to
me
with
a Post-it note
that
said, “Congratulations
on
being
our
newest
lawyer.
Please
cover
this
hearing.
Here
is
a
quarter
for
the
meter.
It
starts
in
an
hour.
Good
luck.” There was no
training
session
and
no warm-up.
That
was
not
confidence.
That
was
fear.
But
confidence
does
not
come
before
the
experience.
It
comes
after
surviving
it.
Confidence is
competence repeated.
The
first
time
you
argue
a
motion, your
voice
may
crack.
The
first
time
you
take
a
deposition, you
may
cling
to
your
outline
like
it
is
a
life
raft.
The
first
time
you
try
a
case, you
may
not
sleep
for
days.
That
discomfort
is
tuition.
Confidence
is
not
a
personality
trait.
It is
competence repeated often
enough
that
your
mind
stops
treating
every
appearance
as a
threat.
When
you
have
handled
five
hearings,
the
sixth
feels
different.
When
you
have
taken
20
depositions,
the
next
one
feels
like
work
instead
of
a
performance.
When
you
have
tried
a
handful
of
cases,
the
courtroom
stops
feeling
foreign.
Young
lawyers
need
their
version
of
open
mic
night.
When
my
sons
were
in
high
school,
we
took
them
to
small
venues
where
they
could
play
music
in
front
of
small,
forgiving
crowds.
They
could
struggle
and
improve
without
permanent
consequences.
Lawyers
need
the
same
runway.
Argue
the
smaller
motion.
Take
the
straightforward
deposition.
Speak
at
the
local
bar
lunch
—
volunteer to
handle
the
short
calendar
call.
Confidence
is
built
in
smaller
rooms
before
it
ever
shows
up
in
the
bigger
ones.
Confidence
is
also
preparation.
I
knew
a
seasoned
trial
lawyer
who
described
himself
as
a
mercenary
dropped
into
the
jungle.
It
was
not
personal.
It
was
tactical.
Fulfill
the
mission
and
leave.
He
was
not
loud, and
he
did
not
pound
the
table.
He
prepared.
He
knew
his
file cold.
He
knew
the
weaknesses
in
his
case
before
anyone
else
did.
He
knew
the
judge
and
the
venue.
He
was
rarely
surprised
because
he
had
thought
through
the
angles
in
advance.
That
is
confidence.
Arrogance
is
insecurity
dressed
up
in
a
suit.
Confidence
is
calm
because
the
work
has
been
done.
When
you
have
studied
the
documents,
anticipated
the
questions,
and
mapped
out
your
themes,
you
do
not
need
to
perform a
confidence
check.
You
execute.
Confidence
also
comes
from
ownership.
One
of
my
first
bosses
told
me
that
my
cases
were
mine.
They
were
not
my assistant’s and
not
my paralegal’s.
I
could
delegate
tasks,
but
the
responsibility
was
mine.
That
mindset
changes
how
you
show
up.
When
you
know
every
deadline,
when
you
have
read
every
key
document,
when
you
have
spoken
to
the
client
and
understand
the
stakes,
you
stand
differently
in
court.
Ownership
forces
growth,
and
growth
breeds
confidence.
If
you
treat
your
cases
as
someone
else’s
problem,
you
will
always
feel
slightly
unsteady.
If
you
treat
them
as
your
professional
responsibility,
your
footing
becomes
firmer.
You
will
doubt
yourself.
You
will
walk
out
of the hearings
replaying
every
sentence.
You
will
read
an
opposing
motion
and
wonder
if
you
are
outmatched.
You
will
compare
yourself
to
lawyers
with
decades
more
experience
and
feel
behind.
That
feeling
does
not
mean
you
are
not
capable.
It
means
you
care.
You
graduated from college.
You
graduated from law
school.
You
passed
the
bar.
You
show
up
every
day
and
put
in
the
work.
Those
are
facts.
Confidence
is
remembering
your
receipts
when
doubt
tries
to
erase
them.
Growing
up
in inner-city Chicago,
nothing
was
handed
to
us.
My
parents
were
working
class, and
the
message
was
simple.
Work
hard.
Be
disciplined.
Do
your
best
every
single
day.
There
was
no
talk
of
quick
success.
There
was
no
shortcut.
There
was an effort
over
time.
That
lesson
translates
directly
to
law
practice.
Confidence
is
not
a
lightning
strike.
It
is
a
byproduct
of
sustained
effort.
Confidence
is
not
the
absence
of
fear.
I
have
tried
cases
where
I
felt
nervous
walking
into
the
courtroom.
I
have
given
presentations
where
I
would
have
welcomed
a
technical
failure
to buy
time.
I
have
handled
matters
with
enormous
stakes
and
felt
the
weight
of
responsibility.
The
nerves
do
not
disappear, and
they
should
not.
A
little
fear
sharpens
you.
It
keeps
you
from
being
careless.
The
goal
is
not
to
eliminate
fear.
The
goal
is
to
function
despite
it.
Emotional
control
is
another
form
of
confidence.
Early
in
my
career, I
encountered
lawyers
who
tried
to
provoke
reactions.
They
would
raise
their
voices,
make
personal
comments,
or
attempt
to
bait
you
into
overreacting.
The
temptation
is
to
respond
in
kind.
That
is
not a strength.
Real
confidence
is
lowering
the
temperature.
It
is
picking
up
the
phone rather
than
sending
an angry
email.
It
is
giving
the
other
side
a
way
to
resolve
a
dispute
without
humiliation.
Judges
and
clients
notice
composure.
Stability
builds
credibility, and
credibility
builds
confidence.
Confidence
accumulates
over
time
—
every deposition
taken.
Every
client
call is handled
well
—
every mistake is owned
and
corrected.
Every
tough
conversation is navigated
without
losing
your
balance.
You
stack
those
experiences
like
bricks.
There
will
be
losses.
There
will
be
rulings
that
do
not
go
your
way.
There
will
be
moments
you
wish
you
could
redo.
The
key
is to
extract
the
lesson
and
move forward.
One
day, you
will
look
up
and
realize
you
are
the calm
one
in
the
room.
A
younger
lawyer
will
be
watching
you
the
way
you
once
watched
others.
You
will
understand
that
confidence
was
never
something
you
found.
It
was
something
you
built
quietly
through
preparation,
repetition,
discipline,
and
resilience.
If
you
are
a
young
lawyer
waiting
to
feel
ready,
you
may
be
waiting
a
long
time.
Step
forward
anyway.
Volunteer
anyway.
Speak
anyway.
The
confidence
will
follow
the
effort.
Frank
Ramos
is
a
partner
at
Goldberg
Segalla
in
Miami,
where
he
practices
commercial
litigation,
products,
and
catastrophic
personal
injury. You
can
follow
him
on LinkedIn,
where
he
has
about
80,000
followers.