Lots of us think about it, most of us keep the genie in the bottle but some of us go right ahead and take the entrepreneurial plunge. For the majority of lawyers the risks of losing salary, benefits and stability outweigh the potential rewards of unlimited wealth, financial freedom and becoming master of your own destiny. Whatever the eventual decision, for the ones that mull this over on miserable days in the office wishing for another life, there’s a lot of thinking in the decision. Impulsiveness is to be avoided right; no substitute for considered judgement… From the Bitter Lawyer "Tooper":

At a friend’s encouragement, I met with a man named Joe to discuss “a once-in-a-lifetime entrepreneurial opportunity.” To be exact, my astute, older, wiser friend said, “This guy’s the next Walt Disney, and he’s looking for a partner.”

Who can say no to Walt Disney?  Especially when you’re a miserable, self-hating corporate lawyer working for a joyless and sadistic law firm with a prestigious name and oversized reputation.

12 hours later, I walked into a glass conference room to find 15 enormous stuffed animals, five eerily human blowup dolls and various other slightly insane inventions and gadgets.  I didn’t know what to expect, but I sure as hell didn’t expect that.  A few moments later, a thick man in a much-too-tight Gucci shirt with black curly hair walked in, smiling ear-to-ear.  If he said he was “the other guy” from Hall and Oates, I would’ve believed him.

“Hi, I’m Joey.  I created all this,” he said, his tiny hand sweeping across the sea of dolls and trinkets.  And then, after a 10-minute delusional monologue, he made me offer I’ll never forget.  “I’d like you to help me become rich and famous?”

“Let me think about it,” I said, dumbfounded by the absurdity of his abrupt proposal.  If nothing else, my five years of M&A experience taught me one thing: Never say yes right away.  Especially to an insane man surrounded by stuff animals. And when I say “insane,” I mean…insane.  Detached gaze; grandiose visions and ramblings; nervous twitches and facial ticks.  He wasn’t some sort of polished lunatic like Bernie Madoff.  He was in-your-face crazy.  No ambiguity.  The only thing missing was a tinfoil hat and floppy clown feet.

So why the hell did I meet him two days later and accept his offer?

Click here to find out.