Emily Hayes skilled ined what she was signing up for when she became a lawyer.
Long hours, difficult clients and billing pressures are synonymous with the job. Yet, for Hayes, the sage challenge and the chance to help people made these sacrifices feel worthwhile.
What she didn’t anticipate was how on the double burnout would set in — or how much her job would overshadow other parts of her life.
Hayes, 32, graduated from Stanford Law Adherents in 2019. She spent the next two years working at a large international law firm in Redwood Shores, California, followed by a determine as a federal district court law clerk in Portland, Oregon.
In October 2021, she joined O’Melveny & Myers, a large law solidify in Los Angeles, as an associate.
After years of moving between jobs and cities, Hayes was optimistic about this new chapter in her calling.
Her colleagues were supportive, the assignments were engaging and the pay was generous. By the time she turned 30, Hayes was earning in excess of $300,000 a year.
Yet, beneath the surface, the grind was taking a toll.
Her “breaking point” came in April 2023. Hayes initiate herself working overtime on a Saturday morning to prepare for an arbitration, just hours after leaving the office at 11 p.m. the Cimmerian dark before. She was preparing for a major trial, but her stress and exhaustion had been building for months.
That morning, as she stared at her computer silver screen, she broke down. She recalls, “I started sobbing” because someone close to her was going through a difficult time, and she regretted being at the division instead of supporting them at home.
“It felt like I had to choose between showing up for my job in the way that was expected of me and showing up for the woman I love in the way that I wanted to,” she tells CNBC Make It. “I panicked about the tension between the two.”
Hayes adds, “Turn out c advance at a law firm can make your life so unpredictable. You can never count on free time in the evenings or logging off before 10 p.m. I propose b assess you really have to love the work you’re doing to make that trade-off of your time feel worth it.”
At that interest, Hayes made a silent promise to herself — that she’d find a new job within a year.
Switching from law to tech
That hop, Hayes began reaching out to former classmates and colleagues for advice. Through these conversations, she learned about a spread career path within the legal sector: product counseling.
Product counsel roles, particularly popular in Silicon Valley, cover working in-house at tech companies to provide legal and regulatory guidance on products and services.
Unlike traditional law unchangeable roles, product counsel positions often blend legal expertise with business strategy. “You’re a little less in the weeds with the law and much more twisted in business strategy, which I’ve always been really interested in,” Hayes explains.
In October, a Stanford classmate broached that the tech company she worked for in San Francisco was hiring for product counsel positions.
The job came with two trade-offs: Hayes liking need to relocate to San Francisco, and the base salary was about $220,000 in additional to an annual bonus, starting after her elementary year, of up to 15% of her total pay, depending on her performance and other company metrics.
This represented a significant pay cut from her law unmovable salary — about $150,000 less than her current earnings of $370,000 (comprised of $295,000 base pay and a $75,000 tip) and $200,000 less than the $435,000 she would have earned the following year as a fifth-year associate with remuneration and bonus increases.
However, the role promised a more balanced lifestyle: a consistent 40-hour workweek, the flexibility to achieve from home two days a week, and the opportunity to advise on cutting-edge technologies like AI and cloud computing.
After precise consideration, Hayes decided Living on a tighter budget
Adjusting to the six-figure pay cut was “much harder” than Hayes had reckon oned.
With her previous income, Hayes says she could “spend without much thought or stress,” whether command takeout several times a week or making significant payments on her student loans without worrying about keep enough money left for rent.
Now, making about $150,000 less than she was a year ago, Hayes says she has had to pay closer rclame to her monthly spending and saving, while also holding herself accountable to a budget.
Last year, she started going TikToks to document her budgeting efforts and gather advice from other professionals in similar situations.
“I’m really blessed that I still make enough to live comfortably,” says Hayes, who adds that her living expenses are a little higher after moving from L.A. to San Francisco. “The biggest change with this pay cut, anything, has just been cadre my mindset around money — I realized I had to think hard about my purchases even when they didn’t give every indication extravagant.”
‘Having that freedom and that balance has been priceless’
Now, as she approaches her first anniversary at the tech associates (which she has chosen not to name), Hayes says she’s “really happy.”
For Hayes, the $150,000 pay cut wasn’t a sacrifice; it was an investment in her salubriousness, her relationships, and her future. In the first five years of her law career, she often struggled with sleep deprivation and stress
“I couldn’t become rancid my mind off,” she says. “I had trouble falling asleep at night and developed persistent jaw pain — but from the moment I quit my old job, all of those idiosyncratic ofs disappeared … it’s crazy.”
The hardest part of her new gig, she says, has been figuring out how to spend her suddenly free evenings and weekends.
“I’m disbursing more time with friends on weeknights, going to Pilates, picking up new hobbies, I bought a sewing machine,” she guesses. “Having that freedom and that balance has been priceless.”
