Cue Panic Stations

I just got punk’d hard by an opposing counsel.

For those of you unfamiliar with this litigation thing, one device used to shape a case is called a Requests to Admit (RTAs). The simple version of what these things are, at least in Illinois, is that they are simple statements that you either admit or deny. If you admit them, the fact admitted is not longer contestable as the case moves forward. There are a bunch of other details I could bore you with, but the only thing you really need to know is that if you fail to respond to them within 28 days, they are all deemed admitted.

And unless you can prove that you were having a stroke while being tortured at Abu Gharib by Santa Claus, there is no way to undo this default admission. Ever. In other words, if you screw these simple things up you are looking at a surefire malpractice case. Now, to today, an opposing counsel calls on a case that I am admittedly neglecting in favor of gChat behind on and since I know this, I start out lowering expectations:

Hey, what I’d screw up?

I have a way with words when I am talking to certain opposing counsel. But I have to admit, I was paying attention to other things. But this lawyer quickly got my attention

Well, you blew the Request to Admit deadline and we are going to file a motion for summary judgment.

I almost fell out of my chair while diving for the file.

What? What are you talking about? I never received them!!!

My heart seriously is hurting in my chest. I can’t breathe. Nor can I stop swearing under my breath. He pauses for what seems like an enternity

I’m just f*cking with you. I wanted your thoughts on getting an iPhone.

I almost threw the phone off my desk.

I hate you.

Thing is, I don’t hate this guy. I hate that I am having trouble breathing at the moment and that my heart feels like it wants to explode.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is how to fuck with a lawyer like me.