Holiday Cheer

Me: What’s the weather doing out there?
Attorney: It’s just starting to snow.
Me: I hear it’s supposed to be bad over the next couple of days.
Attorney: I can hope.
Me: I hear ya.
Attorney: Maybe the relatives won’t make it. If only I could be so lucky…
Me: I was thinking about all of the auto accidents that are about to happen.
Attorney: What?
Me: Just looking for more clients.
Attorney: You’re sick.

The Personal Injury Lawyer Before Christmas

Twas three days before Christmas and all through the firm,
Very few lawyers were present, not even that weird real estate guy.
The last minute filings, prepared all night, were stapled right there.
In hopes that the old presiding judge would read with care.

The law clerks made it in, despite the warmth of their beds.
While they worked, visions of passing law schools grades danced in their heads.
The office manager quietly sat with her knitting in her lap.
The aged attorney just began a nap.

The day was just ho-hum, but then arose such a clatter.
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the fax machine, I ran a 40-meter dash.
I tore past the cover page and dove into the text with a flash.

The grin on this lawyer’s face was starting to show.
After six fortnights of waiting, I started to glow.
What, to my wondering eyes did appear?
Nothing more than a banker asking “Can I dump the money right here?”

With a little skip in my step, ever so quick,
I gloated about a hospital bill, (yes I am that sick).
As vapid as it may be, this is the game,
Thus it is also why I shouted my partner’s name

“My Partner, Named Partner! Stop working on Quicken!
Put down your Blackberry and understand why I’m stricken.
We finally have everything we need, records and all,
For the Smith case, to make the long awaited settlement call!”

Like the skilled robber, I wrote on the fly:
"Give me your insurance policy!” (Hands up! Reach to the sky!)
So up the chain of command, my policy-limits demand flew,
[It’s not like I was asking for the Sun, the moon, and the stars, too]

And then, after watching time fly by, I became aloof.
The wait and the silence causes my psyche to go “Oof!”
What’s going on here? Am I getting the run around?
I’m watching the phone but it will not sound…

Thus I continued to sit at my desk and tap my foot.
Google passes the time (I’m learning words that rhyme with soot!)
As the minutes turn to hours, I turn to get a snack.
Because as I await this call, I cannot fade to black…

I awake, some time later, with my face a shade of cherry.
There is a post it note in front of me: “Please Call Gary!”
I’ve blown the case that was tied up in a bow.
The simplest of tasks and I’ve gone to eat the yellow snow.

I dial the numbers, my smile dims and my hopes fall beneath,
There’s nothing like expecting a kick in the teeth.
Gary answered the phone with a voice emanating from his belly
I apologized for missing his call as I was eating a peanut butter & jelly.

We talked and talked about the case and my client himself:
His injuries and treatment not to mention liability itself.
As we continued, I began to see the thoughts in his head
Soon, I realized, I had nothing to dread.

We spoke for a while and then I returned to work,
I then reached for the phone with a face full of smirk.
I’ve settled my biggest case and yet no one knows…
In doing so, I’ve secured my client from fiscal woes.

My partner approached with arms raised while giving a hearty whistle.
Jumping up and down so much I think he thought he was a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he ran out of sight
“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

The Twelve Days of Dealing with a New Client

It's like the Twelve Days of Christmas. Only not:

Day One

Client: I’d like to hire you as my attorney.
Me: Great! I’ll get the paperwork together and FedEx it to you right away. Sign everything and send it back to me in the envelope that I’ll toss in the packet. Once we get the paperwork, it’ll probably be several weeks before things get moving on your case. We have to get your medical records and bills, we have to contact the insurance company and none of these steps are quick. Just give me a call back in a month and I can let you know where we stand.

Day Four

Client: What’s going on with my case?
Me: Give me one second. [Puts client on hold] Who the hell is this person? [Searches client list, finds caller, resumes the phone conversation] Sorry about that, I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t give you the wrong information. It looks from your file [which I don’t have] that we are still awaiting your paperwork from you.
Client: Oh. I put it in the mail yesterday.

Day Seven

Client: How’s the case?
Me: [I know this voice…why do I know this voice… Oh… yeah…] As I told you last week, it’ll be probably be several weeks before I’ll have something to tell you on your case. I’ll call you when I have an update.

Day Eleven

Secretary: Let me put you on hold for a second and let me see if I can find him. [I’m walking back in from lunch] I’ve got client on the phone and he is looking for an update.
Me: I’m not here.

Day Twelve

Me: This is Namby.
Client: Hey Namby, this is Client.
Me: [Fuck…why didn’t I look at the Caller ID] Hey, sorry I missed you yesterday.
Client: That’s ok…
Me: Unfortunately, I don’t have anything I can tell you about your case yet.
Client: I’m wondering if I could get a loan?

Now if only I can set this to music...

Death is not a laughing matter, a funeral on the other hand…

I’m about to head to the funeral of a family member that passed away this week. Without doubt, there are other ways I would have liked to spend my Friday morning.

As one might expect, the ambulance chaser diligent young attorney in me has his antennae up for a potential client opportunity. It’s not every day that a regular morbidly obese person dies from extensive and invasive cardiovascular surgery.

Since he was not an immediate family member, I’ve been wondering what the protocol is on the following:

• Do I ask the estate executor to view the medical records at the wake or the funeral?
• What is the potential punishment for leaving my business card in casket?
• What if I leave another attorney’s business card in the casket?

My mother was not understanding when I floated these questions by her. I'm not sure why...

Attempts to hide the truth will be sniffed out and forwarded to counsel’s office

I’m investigating the holder of an easement in connection for potential toxic tort litigation. When I am doing the investigating (on any potential case), I don’t like to let people know (1) why I am asking the questions, (2) that I am a lawyer and (3) I’m looking to sue the person that signs their paychecks. People get tight lipped when the person asking the questions wears pretty suits and talks to judges frequently. Go figure.

But I am my own worst enemy because I have an honesty problem: if they aren’t a client, I tell the truth.

Today’s foray into the investigatory processes found yours truly talking to a public relations representative from a certain multinational billion-dollar corporation. Much to my chagrin, my attempted subterfuge was discovered.

Me: Hi there, my name is Namby and I am looking to find out if you guys control this section of land in Chicago.
Her: Why don’t you give me the address [Which I do] and the reason for the search.
Me: I am just trying to find out who I can contact about this area of land.
Her: Okay… (She begins typing) Can I get your mailing address?
Me: Absolutely. My name is Namby Pamby and my address is 1060 West Addison, Suite 10100, Chicago, 60613
Her: Company name?
Me: [Shit.] Smith, Jones and Doe.
Her: (More typing) Is this a law firm?
Me: [Shit. Shit. Shit.] Yes.
Her: (Still typing) I just want to be sure to get your information to the correct department.
Me: I understand.
Her: Is this about a lawsuit?
Me: Not…um…ahhh…yet?
Her: (Furious typing)
Me: I guess I’ll be hearing from your general counsel’s office then?
Her: Of course not.
Me: Your outside litigation counsel?
Her: (Pauses) I want to thank you for calling and you should be hearing from us within the next two business days.

Stupid direct questions that I can’t spin answers to. Stupid honesty.

Five years ago, I started writing this blog

There I was with my study group immersed in Contracts review during the first year first semester finals. We were assembled in the library and I didn’t want to study. I was supposed to be preparing an answer to a hypothetical, what I did instead was start a blog.

For a trip down memory lane: the post that got everything started. (Also could be called “How I got my worst grade in law school”)

Obviously, things started slowly and readers don’t just magically begin to follow your regular ramblings and humorous happenings. But, over time, people started to find my writings. A lot of people seem to like what I post here, a few people like to mock me (which is ok) and as the days go by more and more readers stop on by. Which is awesome.

As law school continued, I kept writing. I was determined not to be a gunner, an overly typical law student or someone aiming to be the traditional lawyer. That said, I had my gunner moments, my typical law student times and an occasional desire to be fitted for the golden handcuffs while being buried in document review. (Why go to law school? Same four reasons as everyone else: “Chicks, money, power and chicks”)

Law school finished, BarBri started and ended, the bar happened and I was unemployed. Through it all I kept golfing and writing the occasional missive posted for the huddled masses to find some humor in. The job search sucked, continued unemployment sucked more and I declared a humiliating defeat (by moving back home with the parentals).

Then three days later, I got a job. (One that has provided ample writing material ever since)

Through it all, I’ve only been trying to share the humor I find along the way. (Let’s be honest, writing is cheaper than therapy). I’ve been amazingly fortunate to receive a little recognition for this website. I am humbled, stunned and speechless when things like that happen. I’m not going to lie, I love getting comments and e-mail from those that stop on by. Those are also humbling, awe-inspiring, encouraging and occasionally naughty. [Please, keep them coming!]

If you can’t tell, I love writing this blog.

I write with a simple goal in mind: making you laugh. Thank you for giving me the audience to do that. Thank you for coming back to see what new travail I’ve managed to experience. I look forward to the future and I honestly hope that I can keep your attention as we move forward together.

It’s like state-sponsored terrorism or giving an asshole tequila

I was just on the receiving end of a frantic call from an attorney’s paralegal letting me know that her boss is going to attempt to convince the Court to reschedule an upcoming trial.

One that is set to begin in about 40 hours.

My partner has handed this case off to me to try, but I still let him know about the call and the opposing counsel’s plan. He receded into contemplation. After sixty seconds of silence, he began to dispense his thoughts, “I want you to be there tomorrow.” He stopped at that comment, and after another extended bout of silence, looked up, removed his glasses and started anew:

“Just go fuck with him.”

Who's calling?

Palsgraf on Foreseeability, Trojan on Damages

Caller: My daughter got pregnant, I want to talk to a lawyer to see what I can do about it.
Me: Ma’am you are talking with a lawyer and why do you think you need to talk to a lawyer?
Caller: My daughter was in rehab and she got pregnant! That shit shouldn’t happen!!!
Me: Was this an attack?
Caller: No. It was consensual.
Me: How old is your daughter?
Caller: 32.
Me: Who did she sleep with?
Caller: Another patient.
Me: What, exactly, should have the hospital done?
Caller: She wasn’t in her right mind! She shouldn’t be doing that shit. She just had a kid. The hospital should have known that she didn’t need another kid.

His face is liable for running into my fist!

Caller: I think I need a lawyer
Me: Why is that?
Caller: It was snowing. I applied my brakes, I started skidding, I crossed the lanes and I was hit by oncoming traffic.
Me: You crossed into oncoming traffic?
Caller: Yes. And I was ticketed for driving too fast for conditions! Can you believe that?
Me: It sounds like you were driving too fast for conditions.
Caller: What do you mean? The other drivers shouldn’t have hit me! It’s their fault!
Me: It doesn’t sound like it.
Caller: What???

Friday feels like it has a case of the Mondays

Trouble Ho! I go see my partner about a case that is up in court this morning. As I walk into his office, his first question is “Can I ask why are you not in Court?” I know that the time isn’t for another ninety minutes. “Look at the order! Get over there!” He tosses the file at me and I begin the hurried walk out of the office. After three steps I find the order, see that I am right and promptly return to his office to do what I had started to do: talk about this case.

All Rise! There is a pro se Plaintiff. This pro se Plaintiff is standing before the judge. This pro se Plaintiff, standing before the judge, has about 15 strands of blonde hair. Scotch taped to her scalp.

Counsel? The judge told me that if I didn’t draft the order exactly as he said, he would hold me in contempt. This was not a joke.

Coping mechanism: I stopped by Starbucks on the way back from Court. I didn’t drink until I got back to my office. Where I found that they got my drink very, very wrong.

I want to go to bed. And not wake up until I’ve won the lottery.

Attorney-at-Duhhhhh

I went to a hospital today so I could sign up clients as paralawyer extraordinaire Danny DeVito taught us in The Rainmaker attempt to retrieve medical records for an upcoming settlement conference.

At this hospital, the medical records are kept near the dead bodies (and far away from the public), so they gave me an escort to the office. 10 minutes, a series of left & rights and one elevator ride later, I was there. The escort commented that she hoped I remembered that because I was going to be all-alone on my return trip. “No worries, I got it. Besides, I was born in this hospital, this place is in my DNA.” Forty-five minutes later, I begin the jaunt back to my car and promptly got lost.

This hospital may be in my DNA. But I was dropped by the doctor during the delivery.

When the law is not on your side, bang your head on counsel’s table until you pass out

The corporate litigation that my firm handles requires that I have frequent contact with our client’s executive leadership: “Yes, you are being sued, your general counsel hears ‘court date’ and flop sweat begins, and we are here to protect you…”

If only this were a positive and problem free attorney-client relationship...

The problems stem from the fact that the Corporate leadership doesn’t understand how litigation works. They can’t fathom how a court would view the Plaintiff’s claims “in a light most favorable to the Plaintiff” and refuse to dismiss the case. No matter how many small words we use, the client doesn’t understand why this case hasn’t gone away. And they get pissed about it: They schedule a conference call where they curse the law, the opposing counsel, the Plaintiff, the Judge and accuse of us of incompetence.

I love spending time being told I am stupid. Don't you?

Since we have been trying to make this case go away and were unsuccessful, we are now under the gun for discovery. The Plaintiff originally requested every document that my client has touched, imagined or could have seen for the previous ten years. The Plaintiff likely was entitled to all of these documents and then some. The Court, at our behest, slapped the naughty overreaching hand of opposing counsel, set up a measured approach for producing document and gave us a month to comply. In doing so, we saved the client from having to pay for several hundred hours of billable time.

How do they react to this positive news?

The client stopped talking to us.

My path back to liquid substance dependency

November was a banner month for me. So much so, I never hope to repeat it. Outside of the 10 or so pounds that I lost due to the plague, another massive change occurred: I went about three weeks without coffee.

No Starbucks, no brewing at the office and no morning prior-to-leaving-the-house coffee. Zero caffeine. Cold Turkey. Kaput.

When I am under the weather I stop drinking the black caffeine laced liquid goodness. A day goes by and I treat the caffeine withdrawal headache with Advil. A week goes by and I don’t notice it because I feel like death warmed over as the plague courses through to my soul. When I am that sick, no longer do I giddily dream about the first cup of coffee that I will enjoy the next day…I dream about the ability to smell, to taste, to breath. You know, the morose side of being sick.

But then I get better.

Work is no longer an experience akin to violating the printed warning about operating heavy machinery while taking this drug. I can function away from my bed. I can smell. I’ve showered. I am returning to the human race. The usual ten-hour day at the office is a doable, exciting and cherished concept. The workday winds on though, with the clock slowing to a halt, and early in the afternoon I can no longer function. What is happening???

I fear that I am having a relapse and three weeks of anti-biotics have done nothing but a create a super disease. But that’s when it strikes me: I ignored my coffee in the morning, I did not stop by Starbucks and my desktop coffee maker is idle.

Today I did not make the same mistake.

I inhaled my morning litre-o-coffee, drank a taurine laced vitamin water on the train ride to the office and I promptly fired up the coffee-maker when I got to the office. It’s now about two in the afternoon, I’ve run multilple 4.2 forties between here and the bathroom, and there is no chance that I will be falling asleep at my desk today.

It feels great to be back in the swing of things. Even with the caffeine induced shakes.

The Catch-22 in Action

For all of you law school students, wrapped up in the middle of finals studying, I have a hypothetical for you:

You are working on a multi-million dollar case directly for the lead partner on the matter. You have been assigned a dispositive motion that has to be filed and briefed in order to preserve the issue on appeal. The case law is on your side, common sense is on your side Justice Scalia and Justice Ginsburg are both rooting for you (while wearing a onesie) and now, you come to a professional fork in the road:

Option A: Taking this option allows you to slave over a brief knowing full well that your partner is going to argue it before the court.

Option B: Taking this option gives you total ownership of this process including (1) slaving over the brief that (2) you get to argue before the court.

The common fact between the options: You will lose no matter what.

Which option do you choose?

Time’s up.

I didn’t get a choice on the Option list. It was “you write, I go talk to the judge, any questions?”

Even though I was benched for gameday, I went to Court to hear the argument. I grabbed the seat nearest to the door in the back of the Courtroom and began doing work on another case while waiting for the argument to begin. The case was called, the phalanx of attorneys rose as one and marched towards the bench.

The judge issued his ruling for the other side before my partner could open his mouth.

I snorted. I got up. Left the courtroom. And laughed some more.

The next question becomes where does the partner apportion his blame?

The Saturday Evening Beg-a-thon

Let me interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a chance to pitch my own cause for a moment. As you have may have heard, I got nominated for the ABA Blawg 100. This is the second year in a row that I have been bestowed this honor. There is some hefty names in this competition, including two of my personal favorites: Bitter Lawyer and Litination.

Yes, it is an honor just to get named to the list. But there is also a competitive aspect to this honor. I am a competitive guy and, let me be honest, I don't want to lose badly.

The process is a wee bit complex because in order to vote you first need to register with the ABA. But then, it gets quite simple. You vote. And then you get your 100 closest friends to do the same thing. And at the end of the competition, BabyBarista will then be named the winner as he was last year.

Time for the obnoxiously large image to emphasize my point:

I appreciate your support. My extreme competitive side really appreciates your support (and the donations of Xanax). And my Chicagoan side asks if you have voted early, often and gotten your deceased relatives to do the same?