Big Sis Briefing: Why We Can’t Stop Checking the List

Yesterday someone asked me if Doyle’s Guide was “legit or pay-to-play like the others”.

I didn’t know.

So, I asked my Instagram community and the responses poured in quickly: peer-nominated, marketing packages, lengthy submissions, a single phone call, popularity contest, waste of space…

But one comment really got me thinking.

“I work in BD at [biglaw firm]. It’s 100 percent generational. The senior lawyers care. The younger ones don’t.”

That simple observation unlocked something bigger in my mind and not just about legal awards but about what happens when a profession builds its identity around being ranked.

The Peculiar Psychology of Lawyer Lists

Lawyers are trained to argue hierarchy. We rank everything.

Law schools rank us. Firms rank us. Clients rank us. Billables, titles, chambers, who made silk and by when.

Of course we’re obsessed with lists.

They’re external validation for an internal system we’ve been breathing since our ATAR score and Mrs. Toohey’s gold star stickers long before that (wait, just me?).

These lists hit something primal. Law is a competitive meritocracy where being “the best” isn’t optional, it’s expected.

So, in a world built on comparison, ranking becomes the oxygen.

What We’re Really Hungry For

When a partner refreshes the rankings page or a firm spends tens of thousands on submissions, it isn’t vanity. It’s the search for proof.

In a profession where our best work is confidential, where wins are sealed and losses never discussed, these lists become public receipts of private worth.

They’re the only scoreboard in a game mostly played behind closed doors.

Playing the game is not just ego, it’s human.

Lawyers are often deeply uncertain people in very certain jobs. We project confidence while navigating constant ambiguity. Awards give us something tangible to hold.

See? Other people think I’m good too!

The Generational Fracture

Those who built their careers in the 80s, 90s and early 2000s came up when prestige was the currency. Making partner was the mountaintop.

Being recognised in print meant you’d arrived.

And for many, it still does. That’s just the game they know.

But the younger generation isn’t playing the same game.

They’ve seen what chasing “prestige” can cost: health, relationships, identity. They know titles don’t guarantee joy. They watched institutions wobble and technology rewrite the rules daily.

So when you tell them they should care about Doyle’s Guide or similar, they kind of shrug.

Being on a list doesn’t mean you’re respected, fulfilled or doing meaningful work.

The shift isn’t from caring to apathy. It’s from external validation to internal alignment.

What Gets Recognised Gets Repeated

What we celebrate shapes what we become.

If we only reward revenue generators, we breed rainmakers with no time to mentor.

If we only celebrate technical brilliance, we breed brilliant assholes.

If we only reward partners, we erase everyone else who makes the place run.

Awards are cultural architecture. They tell young lawyers what success looks like and they tell the world what we value.

I wasn’t immune from it either and dedicated a good portion of my 20s to reverse engineering how to win certain awards that prove my worth. I would study the previous years’ winners and emulate what I could or use it as fuel to do more and be better.

Right now, most lists still seem to measure the old metrics: revenue, reputation, client list, popularity?

What they miss: leadership, empathy, courage and care. Humanity.

The lawyer who mentors quietly, the partner who protects their team, the associate who keeps the wheels turning, do they make the list? Maybe?

Imagine Different

What if recognition looked a little something like this:

The Pearl Tier

The highest tier, reserved for lawyers exceptional in both their craft and humanity. Rare: like pearls.

Eligibility based on peer nominations and anonymous feedback from juniors about whether you made them better, safer, braver. Can’t be bought.

Impact Metrics

Not just revenue or wins but how many people you developed, what process you improved and what clients said about working with you when no one was listening.

The Care Index

Recognising leaders who said no to burnout culture, who built teams that stayed because they wanted to and not because they had to hit an arbitrary number of years to make sure their resume looked spotless.

I fully realise that all of this might sound soft or unquantifiable but let’s be real, AI is already flattening knowledge and technical skill is table stakes.

The lawyers who thrive next won’t be the smartest in the room. They’ll be the ones people genuinely like and trust too.

Being brilliant won’t be enough. You’ll have to be brilliant and human.

The List We Actually Need

Awards aren’t the enemy. Recognition matters, especially in a profession that often forgets to say thank you.

But maybe the real question isn’t whether Doyle’s is legitimate.

Maybe it’s what are we recognising and who gets left out when we keep measuring the same old things in the same old way because “this is the way we’ve always done it”.

The lawyers quietly changing the culture for the better, mentoring, questioning, rebuilding, rarely make the lists. And that’s our loss.

The next era of excellence won’t be about who’s the smartest or who billed the most.

It’ll be about who made everyone around them better by being there.

That’s the list I want to see.

Not because it’s softer.

But because it’s truer.

💖

Mel