Between  Mark Herrmann’s thoughts on how he, as an inside guy, perceives the old elevator pitch, and  Kevin O’Keefe’s advice that one’s LinkedIn summary ought to be one’s elevator pitch, it got me thinking about it.  The elevator pitch.

It was probably ten to fifteen years into practice before I ever heard the phrase uttered.  From what I understand, it’s the most basic element of “rainmaking” in law, the ability to sum up who you are, what you do and why anyone should want to hire you, in the course of an elevator ride.  The closest I ever came to offering such a pitch was when someone at a party asked me what I did. 

But then, it wasn’t directed at getting their business, since not too many people at the parties I attended were sufficiently serious criminals, likely to face prosecution.  I hung out with the wrong crowd.  When I made my occasional trek to where my clientele like to hang, they already knew who I was and no pitch was needed.

The crux of the elevator pitch is to distinguish oneself in the few seconds between the question being asked and the questioner’s complete loss of interest.  If the pitch doesn’t grab someone right away, it’s lost.  Get off on the next floor as you’re not going any higher.

As my practice transitioned from drug conspiracies into financial and corporate crime, I’ve given the elevator pitch a good deal of thought.  The potential range of clients expanded orthogonally, and unlike the guys hanging out at a bar called Zapatas in Fort Washington or on Grand Street in the Bronx, the suits didn’t have a clue who I was.  They knew from biglaw names, and would always ask me what firm I was with upon learning that I was a lawyer.  I got a blank stare when I said that it was my own firm, before they turned away to talk to someone else.

Over time I learned.  My “of counsel” association with firms in other places gave me a modicum of credibility to a group inclined to appreciate quantity over quality.  But that’s just a threshold question, allowing you to move forward to the gist of the pitch.  The discussion about how solos and small firms beat the crap out of  a biglaw partner who never touches the case and work being done by snot-nose associates with slightly less experience than a fruit fly is for another day.  The elevator ride doesn’t take that long.

The notion of “pitching” someone has never sat well with me.  It smacks of glibness and self-promotion, and for those of us who prefer to wear a suit and tie rather than hot pants, it’s unseemly.  But if someone asks, then what are you going to do?  There was a time, many years ago, when I used to tell women in bars that I bred armadillos for a living.  “I like to bring a little happiness into their lives,” I would say.  It was cute, and beat the heck out of telling them I was a lawyer, like every other guy in the bar.

The same problems exists today.  What can I say in 30 second that would distinguish me from the tens of thousand of other lawyers doing pretty much the same thing, without making me seem like a self-promoting slut?  What can I say that will be sufficiently interesting to grab someone’s attention, and brief enough to get through it before we reach the penthouse?  What can I say that’s true.  What can I say that won’t conflict with my views about personal integrity?

As Kevin explains:

You only get one chance to make a first impression. What do you want people to walk away thinking about you?

I’ve never been any good at the elevator pitch.  I can’t imagine I ever will.