I had been a lawyer for two years, working as a junior associate. Every day was identical: I was either buried in research or endlessly drafting tedious documents on my computer. My performance reviews were excellent but at the same time I felt stuck. I craved more responsibility. What I really wanted was to go to court. Then I got my wish.

            A prominent partner in my firm called me into his office. “Steve, I want you to argue the motion to dismiss in the wrongful death case.” Finally. I had lived with this case for a year and had written the motion to dismiss. Typically, however, the partners argued the case before the judge. Now, it was my turn. I was going to federal court.

            I immediately went into full preparation mode for the hearing:

            Review all relevant documents? Check.

            Reread all key cases? Check.

            Rehearse my main arguments? Check.

            Repeat all the above? Check.

            The night before the hearing, I worked late to get ready for court. I was home from work around 11:00 p.m. and in bed just before midnight. Best to be overly prepared. I woke at 4:45 a.m., my usual time, to go to the gym. I like a good workout in the morning, as it gets my endorphins going. I grabbed my suit and left for my thirty-minute commute to downtown Los Angeles.

            I planned my morning to the minute and even gave myself some extra time just in case. My court appearance was at 8:30 a.m., so having finished my workout at 7:30 a.m. meant that I was perfectly on schedule, especially with the court a mere five minutes from the gym.

            At 7:45 a.m., I got out of the shower and started to get dressed. Then I realized—to my horror—that my pants were missing. What? I checked my gym bag and the locker again, frantically sweeping through their contents, but nothing. Could I have dropped the pants somewhere or left them in the car? I quickly put on the rest of my clothes and walked out of the gym as discretely as one possibly can while dressed in a coat, tie, and workout shorts.

            The pants were not in my car. It was now 8:00 a.m. and I was in full panic mode. I couldn’t go back home because I didn’t have time. I tried to reach another lawyer in my firm, but no luck. I also didn’t have the phone number for the court. (First practical tip: Always have the number of the court when you have an appearance.)

Although I was feeling lightheaded from stress, I quickly assessed my three options: First, I could miss the court appearance. Second, I could show up to court in my gym shorts, or third, I could throw a Hail Mary and try to find a clothing store that was open nearby.

The third option was my only realistic choice. The first would undoubtedly get me fired and the second would probably ruin my reputation for future jobs. I could just see the headline in the legal newspaper: “Lawyer who shows up to court without pants gets canned!”

            I recalled that downtown Los Angeles has a garment district and prayed to myself as I drove around looking for anything open. Luckily, at about 8:15 a.m. I observed a man opening the doors to his store. I bolted into the store and asked the man to give me anything with a size 36 waist. He began to ask what color, style, and length I wanted, but before he could finish, I had already grabbed the first pair of pants in my size. I quickly pulled them on over my workout shorts and glimpsed at them in a mirror as I prepared to pay. Greenish-gray wool, they were hot, itchy, baggy, too long, and clashed with my red tie and Navy-blue coat. At least they covered me. I paid for them and sped off.

            At 8:35 a.m., I parked my car in the courthouse parking lot and sprinted with briefcase in hand to the courthouse and up the escalator to the courtroom. Most civil courtrooms don’t open their doors until a few minutes after 8:30 a.m., and thankfully, this court was no exception. It was 8:45 a.m. when I arrived. All the other lawyers had checked in for the morning calendar, and the judge had taken the bench. I was sweating profusely. I sat down and took a relaxing breath for the first time in an hour. I wasn’t in my seat for thirty seconds before my case was called. I approached the counsel table with one hand on my briefcase and the other on my pants to make sure they didn’t fall down.

            After oral argument, the judge took the matter under submission and said he would issue a final decision next week. When I got back to my car, I almost passed out. Then, I started shaming myself in my own mind. How could I have been so stupid as to forget to pack pants for one of the most important moments of my professional life?

            It was a life-altering experience. I had been spending way too many hours focused solely on my work and professional goals to realize that the rest of my life was out of whack. There was an underlying imbalance in my life. Things were so wonky, so heavily tipped toward professional perfectionism that I had forgotten an ordinary detail of daily living—pants—and had nearly bombed my career. I needed a new approach to life and law.

            How about you?   How’s your life going?  How the balance between your work and your life?   Are you completely satisfied with all aspects of your life?   If not, keep reading.

~Excerpted from my book, “The Whole Truth for Lawyers: A Complete Guide to Flourishing In Your Life and Career (2021).