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There are certain things that matter more to me than I care to admit. Chief among them have been my accomplishments when compared to my peer group and how I am perceived by others. Along these lines, I used to place a lot of value in being described as smart.

When I was a baby lawyer being introduced to a client by one of the partners, he described me as “our smartest associate.” I thought my heart would explode with pride. After my initial internal dialogue of “Wow! That’s awesome,” my next thought was, “I’m not sure that’s true.” But even if it were true, is that how I want to be known?

Not that it’s bad to be known as smart, but over the course of time, I’ve decided that smart is not the first trait I want people to associate me with. There is nothing I’ve done of my own accord to have whatever amount of intelligence that has been bestowed upon me. Being smart is kind of like being good looking (which I’m not laying any claim to). It’s certainly helpful and you’d probably rather have it than not, but there’s nothing you’ve done to deserve it.

Now don’t get me wrong, being a lawyer requires a certain minimum threshold of intelligence. Some practice areas even necessitate more intelligence than others. By and large the institutional barriers to entry (i.e., LSAT scores and bar exams) usually do a fair job of weeding out those who lack the intellectual capacity to perform the critical thinking necessary for lawyers. So I’m not saying being smart isn’t important. It’s just that it doesn’t really say all that much about you.

Another reason I’ve mentally de-emphasized the importance I place on being recognized as smart is there is always someone else smarter. In high school and college, I had to study some, but I don’t recall things being all that difficult most of the time—except for calculus and trigonometry, but that’s why I’m a lawyer and not in STEM. I expect most of you can identify with that. When I got into grad school, I really had to put in some hours reading and writing, but still found myself among equals.

Then I went to law school, where I found that I was what I think of as normal-people smart. There I encountered some folks who are freakishly smart. You can mostly understand what they’re pontificating about, but it takes burning some calories to rev your brain up that high. Years later, I’ve joined LawyerSmack and follow #lawtwitter, where I daily bear witness to discussions among lawyers whose intelligence far surpasses my own.

But I am not discouraged by this anymore. Instead, I am latching onto the coattails of those who can help me increase both the breadth and depth of my knowledge. Similarly, I have peers who have accomplished more than I have. And I strive not to envy them. Their accomplishments do not diminish my own. There is room for all of us to have success.

So I don’t want to be known as the smartest lawyer at my firm. It is a label that has no intrinsic value. It is like the athlete who is described as having “so much potential,” which means nothing if you do not capitalize on it.

I would be much better served being known as the most trustworthy or most client-oriented lawyer, or perhaps even wisest or most ambitious. These are descriptors that reveal character, which can be supported (or not) by a person’s actions. They reflect a person who is known by things he has done, rather than just revealing the observation of an inborn trait.

I have taken a long time to recognize, then reprioritize these values. Maybe this can help you get a jump on identifying the characteristics for which you want to be recognized, then begin taking actions that will enable others to see those qualities in you.

Jeremy W. Richter is an associate with Webster Henry in Birmingham, Alabama, and writes an eponymous law blog. He is the author of Building a Better Law Practice: Become a Better Lawyer in Five Minutes a Day .

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