After I took the bar exam, I needed to sort out how I wanted to start my professional life. Instead of going the traditional route and working for a law firm, I decided to go into business. I took a few months off to find the right opportunity. I traveled a lot between DC (law school) and NYC (opportunity).

In hindsight, this was a much needed break and a great time for me to take a pause. My brain was fried after three years of law school and the slog of studying for the bar exam. 

After a few months, I felt reenergized and found something to sink my teeth into.

By chance, I met with the founder of a software development company that was going through tough times. His operations were a mess and the company was running on fumes financially. After one interview, he hired me as interim CEO to perform a company turnaround. Perfect, I love a good challenge. 

I moved to NYC and dove in immediately. Like all small company CEOs, I wore every hat from day one. I hired a new team, fixed the sales process, collected old receivables, and put in new software systems. I kicked ass and the company was back on its feet in only a few months. It turns out I had a knack for this kind of work.

But what I remember most about that work experience was the day I discovered my new superpowers. 

That day, I was reviewing a vendor proposal. We had a tight deadline to make a decision on whether to renew our contract with a key vendor, by later that day. Frankly, it wasn’t enough time to make an important decision but our backs were against the wall. This vendor represented over 50% of our cost structure and without them, the business would flounder. Normally, this decision would take weeks.

I skimmed the lengthy document – probably 40 pages or so. I didn’t read every word, but I got the gist and let it wash over me. I did a deeper dive on the most important sections, outlining them in my mind. Then, I opened up a blank memo document and summarized my thoughts – pointing out where the contract needed to be amended and highlighting the key risks. The whole exercise took me no more than 30 minutes.

I looked at the memo. It was good. Sharp. Concise. Clear. It covered all the bases while still fleshing out the right amount of detail. Based on the memo, it was clear on how we needed to negotiate our renewal with the vendor.

I felt proud of my work. That was a new feeling at the time. Not that I hadn’t ever felt pride in my work before, but this time felt different. The memo was of professional quality, and the speed at which I generated it was stealth. 

It was the first time I had so accurately processed a large amount of foreign information in such a short period of time. I had found a new gear. 

I remember sitting back in my chair at the time and staring at the ceiling. What had just happened? I wouldn’t have been able to do that a few years ago. 

In that moment, I realized my new superpowers.

It turns out that the thousands of hours of reading in law school had dramatically increased my reading speed and reading comprehension level. I could now read at top speed, while still filtering for key issues. I could slice through large texts deftly and extrapolate relevant information. 

I estimate that my reading speed before-and-after law school increased by 5x. Maybe more. A new superpower.

Similarly, the hundreds of hours of writing in law school had dramatically increased my writing speed and my ability to articulate myself. I didn’t struggle for words any more. I didn’t have to think about what to say. No writer’s block. I could just sit down and start typing, trusting the words that were flowing out of me. Somehow my thoughts seemed more organized, my points more concise, and my written voice more genuine. 

I estimate that my writing speed measured before-and-after law school increased by at least 3x. Another new superpower. Plus, a huge increase in the quality of output.

That day I had an immediate shift in perspective. I had gone to law school because I wanted to learn more about how the world works. I wanted to understand how parties transact business. I wanted to see behind the curtain on how big money flows. I was curious about how the court system functions. All of these concepts were interesting to me, and that’s what drew me in initially. And I learned all of that in law school, and more. I developed a knowledge base from which to build from. 

But law school also forced upon me a mammoth amount of reading and writing in a concentrated period of time. Rep after rep, this melded my brain around how to digest (reading) and generate (writing) language. On the spot, day after day, at high speed.

Recognizing my new superpowers for the first time, I felt a rush of clarity. I felt like Bradley Cooper in the movie Limitless, except I didn’t have to take a pill to become a Jedi and move through the world faster. I could use my superpowers whenever I wanted, without medication. (The movie came out after this happened, but when I watch it it always takes me back to that day in my apartment in NYC.)

No matter how I decided to use my law degree – whether as a lawyer or a businessman – I acquired these new superpowers that seemed far more important than understating some nuanced legal issue. These were tools for life, in any setting. 

I’m happy to say that these superpowers remain today and haven’t atrophied much. If anything, they’ve been fine-tuned and are more mature. Superpowers don’t have finite limits. And even if they slow down a bit through non-use from time to time, I can always build back my muscle memory quickly. 

I usually tell this story to anyone asking me whether or not they should go to law school. Instead of talking about the virtues of becoming a lawyer, I tell them about the superpowers.