I am presently on my second day of vacation. It’s as close to a perfect vacation as I could possibly plan and each minute is being savored more than the one before. Yet, all is not well.
I was electronically tethered to the office sending work emails yesterday.
It started innocuously with a partner asking where a file was. Then a secretary asked me to review a client matter. It got worse when the email came informing me that a trial won’t be able to proceeding as originally scheduled. And the emails, they kept on coming. Things escalated to text messages between me and a senior partner…because someone couldn’t remember how to access the firm server from home.
It’s good to know that work needs me. It’s better to know that I haven’t been replaced. It’s best to know that at 9:30 in the morning I can pour myself a cocktail and head to the pool.
And that’s what I think I shall do.
Dear Partner:
I know that you are my boss. You dictate what work I do, the hours that I am needed and pretty much run my life. You authorize my hours and make sure that I am paid (most of the time). I go to court when you say I need to get chewed out by a judge for you, I fall on the grenade that is a screaming client when you can’t be bothered and I let you blame me when you need a scapegoat for your inaction when negotiating with opposing counsel.
You determine which files I do substantive work on and which files I clean up your mistakes on. Actually, that’s a misstatement, I make sure that our files are as mistake free as possible. Unless I am throwing a passive aggressive pity party when I do not really care if you’ve produced work product that a high school moot court participant wouldn’t sign her name to. After all, my name goes out on our cases right next to yours.
But now, you’ve gone too far.
I humbly request that the next time you feel the need to engage in activities that are deemed to be clerical in nature that you do said menial tasks in your own office. Specifically, I ask that you refrain from walking the eighty feet from your office to (1) use my staple remover, (2) at my desk, (3) leaving the removed staples all over my workspace, (4) when I am away. Nothing says you appreciate you like finding a pile of removed staples and torn paper splayed all my keyboard.
I’m glad we had this talk.
Very truly yours,
Nambs
One of the advantages of being an ambulance-chasing attorney is that you get to pick up a few medical pointers along the way. Now in my fifth year, I can tell you that certain pains are indicative of a spinal cord injury and that sensitivity to light is a hallmark of a concussion. While this armchair medical education has left me a few credits short of my M.D. (yet, I am closer to being a doctor than a chiropractor), I can predict what certain treatments will be prescribed to cure the common ailments that a client may present with.
I am also able to smell bullsh*t from potential clients:
Caller: I am in the hospital and the doctors will not give me the drugs that I think will cure me.
Me: What drug do you want to the doctors to give you?
Caller: I want penicillin! My body reacts really well to penicillin and these doctors are refusing to give it to me.
Me: And what disease do you have?
Caller: MRSA.
Me: You want penicillin for MRSA???
Caller: Yeah…
Me: MRSA is resistant to penicillin.
Caller: Oh. Does that mean that they aren’t going to give it to me?
A note to would be litigants: please do not call me from the hospital bed. I could care less if you don’t like your doctor, if you are in pain or if you could have died. Please only call if you are, in fact, dead.
Everyone once in a while, a potential client will take a look at the attorney representation contract and decide that one-third plus costs is just too big of a share to give to the attorney in the nice suit. After all, lawyering cannot be that hard just look at all of the lawyers out there. Then they start to wade into the depths of the unknown with the big scary insurance company and it turns out, maybe, they just need a little help to get their big settlement closed:
Potential Client: I didn’t sign your attorney contract because I thought you were getting too big of a fee.
Me: You handled the case on your own, didn’t you?
Potential Client: Well, I thought I could settle it myself. My neighbor did this and she got plenty of money.
Me: How’s it working out for you so far?
Potential Client: They don’t wanna pay me no money!
Me: Being your own lawyer didn’t work so well for you did it now?
Potential Client: I got over $20,000 in unpaid medical bills! They have to be paid!!!
Me: I remember from when we talked. Does that mean you want a lawyer now?
Potential Client: Yeah.
Me: You want me as your lawyer?
Potential Client: Yeah!
What if I don’t want you as my client?
I spend a lot of time on the phone. There are days when I will spend more time on the phone than doing anything of actual value. Usually, like today, the calls start off epic and just keep on coming:
8:42 a.m. Potential Client, Medmal, Maybe: Was raped by aliens posing as doctors. Bitten by nurses. Given AIDS by the government. Wants to fire present lawyer and hire new counsel.
9:01 a.m. Opposing Counsel on Most Annoying Case Ever: Laughing at the settlement offer.
9:39 a.m. Client: Wants to know when the settlement check is coming. Very upset that the disbursement has not been made.
10:12 a.m. Former Client, Convicted felon: Wants to refer me another case. Always happy to help out someone who got caught for committing fraud.
10:25 a.m. Client, same as before: Wants to know when the settlement check is coming. Wants to know why nothing has changed. It’s been weeks since the settlement was reached. Weeks!
11:15 a.m. Potential Client, Medmal, Medmalish: Has a mucus problem. Detailed the mucus discharge. Correction: detailed multiple mucus discharges. Not happy with the doctors treating the mucus problem.
11:22 a.m. Client, same as before and before that: Wants to talk to the partner about the lack of progress, lack of professionalism and if it is able to get the settlement funds in cash.
11:33 a.m. Opposing Counsel on Most Annoying Case Ever: Laughing at the revised settlement offer.
12:00 p.m. Mucus Potential Client, Again: Details more mucus events that featured ‘mucus balls’ and ‘wads of mucus’. Says “could have died!”
Time for lunch, who’s hungry???
I’ve got a loved one in the hospital right now. We’ve been here nearly twenty four hours and let’s just say that it hasn’t been the most pleasant of times. I’ve not slept more than an hour since I woke up on Sunday morning, I just ate for the first time since last night and I am unshowered & unshaven.
I did wear a Burberry sportcoat to the hospital…So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Despite my less than fine form at the moment, I’ve told precisely no one that I am medical malpractice lawyer. Yet that may change rather quickly if the level of care does not change ASAFP. I may not be thinking with the most clear mind at the moment, but that for damn sure will not stop me from marching to the nurses and doctors and telling them that I will “sue all their motherf*cking asses!!!” if they fail to get their shit together.
The moral here is don’t mess with a sleep deprived ambulance chaser. Ever.
Last night, I was blissfully sound asleep when I began to dream:
I am dressed to the nines and walking into a job interview. I sit down in an immaculate conference room before a group of assembled partners and begin reciting argument as if I am Paul Clement standing before the Supreme Court arguing against the Healthcare Mandate. I wake up right as the partnership is about to issue the ruling.
In other news, I really need better dreams. At least ones that don’t involve Clarence Thomas.
Caller: I have a medical issue that I need legal help with.
Me: How do you think I can help?
Caller: I am in a facility against my will and I just want to get out to go to work. But the doctor’s won’t let me. I’m not sick. And I keep getting taken to these facilities. I just want to get on with my life and back to my family.
Me: Sir, this really isn’t the area of law that I practice. Why are you in the facility?
Caller: I don’t know. I was minding my own business and the police took me here. I just want to get back to my wife and my job. This is just wrong. I am pregnant because of immaculate conception and I am genuinely worried about my baby’s wellbeing.
Me: I understand completely, Sir…
It usually starts with a simple click of a mouse. Instantly, the pulse quickens, controlled inhalation is replaced by short gulps of air and the eyes begin dart to all possible blindspots where potential intruders could be lurking. As the contraband website loads on the screen the escape plan is contrived.
You know the plan I am talking about: the “oh-holy-eff the partner just appeared behind my computer and he can’t see what I’m looking at while on firm time” plan. Some derivative of multiple open browser tabs, fingers on the hide command and a mouse that never strays too far from the close window option is what I typically employ. It is about this time that you quickly read the sultry text and then, just as quickly, begin to cover your tracks as you retreat to safe harbor.
At that point, the only nefarious actor is you as you go about determining whether or not you will apply for the job opening you ever so quickly skimmed.
While at the office.
With the managing partner mere feet from where your disloyal web browsing just occurred.
The process repeats itself as you retrieve your resume, stock writing sample and form cover letter from your carefully crafted electronic hide. Click, print, close, stash the evidence, recon the perimeter and repeat while you print your writing sample and edit the cover letter accordingly. The further the process goes on, whether it is figuring out how to print the right label for the task or reprinting your typo ridden cover letter, the more the paranoia grows. A ringing phone makes you close all active windows, a text message causes near cardiac arrest, a distant voice leads you force restart the computer…
But before you know, it is all over.
The letter signed, the materials enclosed and all that is left to do is calmly excuse yourself from the office destined for the nearest mailbox. This final journey seems to drag on forever as you are convinced you will run into someone who will spoil the subterfuge. Reaching the mail drop and shoving your job application into it leads to a huge rush.
And the desire to do it all again.
Some clients understand that the attorney-client relationship is a partnership. It is a partnership where both the client and the attorney have to do work so they can achieve a positive result. Where one side fails to do their share of the work, the relationship will suffer and success will be elusive. It just so happens that most of my clients do not understand this concept.
Big shocker, I know.
When faced with a client that doesn’t seem to get the big picture (or the hint to get off their lazy ass), if you are like me you will attempt to jedi-strangle the idiot asshole on the other end of the call:
Me: I just wanted to let you know that I am still waiting for the accident report.
Client: The police have it.
Me: But you said you had it.
Client: Oh. I figured you were going to get it.
Me: When talked last week you said you’d sent your copy.
Client: Oh… no… I don’t have a copy. Have you requested one?
Me: No…you were supposed to send me the copy you had. That’s what you told me you were going to do.
Client: Ohhh…That’s going to take some time to get, right?
Me: Here’s what I want you to do. Go to the police station and get a copy.
Client: …Um… Don’t I have to pay for that?
Me: You might. Just get the copy.
Client: …Uhhh….I don’t know what to do.
Me: Call the police department, they will help you.
Client: Why can’t you do it?
I am somewhat amazed that this client didn’t ask why the case had not settled yet. Mind you, the accident only occurred twelve days ago and I don’t know what exactly happened yet, who the potential defendant might be or if there is insurance to pay my contingency fee.
Not that that would matter to this client.
In case you missed it, Sunday was gorgeous here in the Windy City. It was like a summer afternoon full of blue sky, a light breeze and just the right amount of sun. Like most Chicagoans, my significant other and I were enjoying this welcome change of season by a sharing a Sunday evening cocktail on the balcony. And then cocktail number two. Then number three.
Apparently, the drinks we were having had quite the alcohol content as yours truly became fun.
Or belligerent.
Whatever.
At some point in this Sunday Funday affair, whilst I may have been attempting to steal some of my drinking partner’s beverage when she wasn’t looking, I looked up to notice that a police car was slowly driving by. Of course, having been schooled in the ways of dealing with the police thanks to a semester of Criminal Law, two semesters of Criminal Procedure and having seen the Wire, I do what anyone would do in my situation:
“FIVE OH!!! BE COOL! FIVE OH!!!!!”
I should probably mention that this astute observation was yelled at the top of my lungs while clutching an empty glass. Needless to say, my better half was not amused with my antics:
“You know that his window is open, right?”
I mean, what could I possibly think to say in this situation? I am sure that she really was proud of having her slightly inebriated moron-boyfriend screaming at a police squad car as it slowly rolled by the house. But that didn’t stop me from uttering the best defense (that I could think of) to my actions:
“I’m a lawyer. I don’t care.”
Clearly, the more I drink, the stronger my arguments become.
Dear Aged Attorney in the Firm:
I know that I am a young whippersnapper that hasn’t been at it the twenty something years you’ve been slogging through the trenches attempting to make ends meet. You’ve seen it all and you are now the grizzled vet that sneers at young bucks like me. As I am sick of having my time wasted by having to deal with your simple technological questions that you cannot deign yourself to ask your secretary (or your children), I want to present you with simple suggestions that will address your three most recent problems.
Do not touch the auto-formatting
When you edit my documents with your legal expurtease, please note that you tend to totally screw up the formatting that I actually spent time trying to perfect prior to uploading the document. To avoid this in the future, just print out the document, make your changes in ink and give them back to me. You won’t break anything or cause me to spend un-billable time correcting your mess. Also, as a related note, hitting the space bar 12 times is a waste when you can just hit tab twice. Or like six times when you are trying to format a case caption…
Yes, you can delete files.
This was an actual call I got from a partner:
Partner: Um…uhh…how do I delete this file?
Me: …
Partner: Are you there?
Me: Yeah…I thought you were kidding.
I was unaware that computer users could possibly be unaware of this option. There is a trashcan on your screen and just like the trashcan sitting next to your desk, you just have to drag and drop files into it. If you don’t know what drag and dropping means, I am not sure that I can help you.
That printer looking thing sitting twenty-seven inches from you is for printing
Listen, I know you and I are working on several cases together. I know that I do the heavy lifting and I submit my work product for you to make sure that I am not trying to piddle on the courtroom carpet someplace. However that doesn’t mean that I should have to hold your hand when you want to print something or, worse, have to print it myself. I know that you have a fully functional printer and I know it is fully loaded with paper. I’ve showed you how to replace the toner when it is out and what to do when it is, gasp, turned off. So please, for the love of God, when you are seeking to print off something, put the phone down that is calling me and click print yourself.
If these fail to help with your technological shortcomings, the second installment of this series will include topics on Google, Retirement and Euthanasia. If that doesn’t work, I’ll just smother you while you are taking your afternoon nap.
My partner and I wee discussing a leading medical expert (that is routinely retained in litigation to render Plaintiff adverse opinions at $1,000 an hour) who just happens to be involved in one of our pending cases. As this is a case strategy meeting, there really is no off limits area of conversation when it comes to the discussion of relevant issues.
Unless, slander is involved.
Me: I hate him. Know one I know respects him. He is a f*ckup amongst all f*ckups. He does nothing but harm our clients.
Partner: You can’t say that! You cannot ever say that.
Me: What?
Partner: You have to be accurate when talking about him else you can get sued. He is not a f*ckup. He is a vapid, soulless man-whore that only cares about who is signing his paycheck.
Me: I’m not seeing the difference.
Partner: Your version is slanderous, my version is the truth.
I definitely now see the difference.
