The Electronic Final Word

Everyone has one nowadays. And I think they are absolutely useless. Whether it is a cell phone number, a quotation from somebody not worth listening to at any point in life or a disclaimer that gives credit card companies a run for their monotonous money, you will likely find one of these things at the end of every email in your inbox.

I use them thus I’m as guilty as the next guy.

I’ve got one for my firm e-mail, one for my personal e-mail, one for my blog e-mail and one for the secret e-mail account that only the NSA knows about. But, I want to break from the mold of lawyers e-mail signatures like this:

NOTICE: THIS E-MAIL MESSAGE IS A CONFIDENTIAL ATTORNEY-CLIENT PRIVILEGED COMMUNICATION AND MAY ALSO CONTAIN ATTORNEY WORK PRODUCT. THIS COMMUNICATION HAS BEEN SENT IN FURTHERANCE OF AND FOR THE PURPOSE OF FACILITATING THE RENDITION OF PROFESSIONAL LEGAL ADVICE AND/OR SERVICES. IF YOU ARE NOT THE ADDRESSEE OR INTENDED RECIPIENT OF THIS E-MAIL MESSAGE, PLEASE DELETE THIS MESSAGE AND DESTROY ANY PRINTED COPIES HEREOF. THIS E-MAIL IS NOT INTENDED TO BE RELEASED TO OPPOSING PARTIES, OPPOSING COUNSEL OR ANY OTHER PERSON.

I apologize for the all capital eye-rape but you get the point.

These electronic signatures are awful reading and they do not prevent the disclosure of any privileged document that a sender mistakenly ‘replies all’. It’s not like that you get to claw back anything that you sent when you were (1) tired, (2) drunk, (3) NyQuiled, (4) pissed off or (5) all of the above. Once your e-mail hits the interwebs, it’s gone.

Thus, I want to create one that accurately reflects my professional status and my personality all the while conveying the message that I’ll shank you if this e-mail falls into the wrong hands (even if it is not your fault). Something along the lines of this:

T. Namby Pamby
Attorney at Law
233 S. Wacker Drive
Suite 15000
Chicago, Illinois 60607
thenambypamby@gmail.com
http://thenambypamby.blogspot.com

This e-mail message was sent to you by a semi-coherent lawyer who does not care for idiots, clients or bankruptcy attorneys. If this e-mail came to you from the hours of 8pm through 7am, it may have been sent under the influence of liquid courage. If it was received at any other time, read at your own risk (Surgeon Generals have warned that combining coffee, five-hour energy and a juris doctor will result in sudden onset assholedom as well as anal leakage). If this e-mail was sent to you because the sender didn’t verify the appropriate recipient, please laugh at him. The material in this e-mail may be confidential or of a privileged nature, but if you are reading it, well, the sender is SOL. This e-mail may have been composed at a billable rate even if it is a one-word response and, as such, prepare to see a bill for it. Please consider the environment when printing this e-mail. If you must print it, please start a forest fire.

Sent from my iPhone. Because I have better toys than you.

What do you think? Any suggestions? Or should I just do away with the e-mail signature all together?

He's back again. And I still hate Jorge Larrionda.

Let me refresh your recollection on the asshat known as Jorge Larrionda:

First Encounter: He showed three red cards in the U.S. v. Italy game in the 2006 World Cup. Italy was getting away with aggravated assault and they only had one sent off.

Second 2006 Encounter: He done voted for France in the semi-final.

Now let's fast forward to last year: the confederations cup. Mr. Larrionda sent off another American. Because he sucks at life.

Let's fast forward to today: a clear goal was not awarded by Mr. Larrionda and crew to the Brits.

If Zee Germans win, I'm blaming the ref, because he's an asshole(UPDATED) it's because the English have no defense, no midfield, no offense and no goalie.

Summering with Namby: Part II

I gave Bambi a pleading to proof read for me (because little details aren’t always my thing). I get his suggestions back and I begin to flip through it when I find this gem handwritten at the end of one of my mangled sentences:

“Ended your sentence in a preposition – how embarrassing”

This kid is going to make a great lawyer.

The Drop In

“Thomas P. Client is here for your meeting”

But I don’t have a meeting…

There are only two categories of clients that will get me to arise from my desk and trudge looking for an empty conference room: (1) the ones with bank accounts that make your life depend on it and (2) the ones without bank accounts that make your life depend on it. Put another way, it is the clients that have cases that will mean lots of money for the firm or the clients that will attempt to take your law license away while getting you fired from the firm.

Pissing them off is typically not a direction that I choose to take.

I can duck phone calls with the best of them (“He’s out having a vuvuzela surgically implanted into his colon…”). However, when the proximity can measured in feet, not area codes, it gets a lot harder to pull off an effective duck and cover. The receptionist never knows who you are trying to avoid, thus, he/she has already given away the fact that you are present in the office. Game over: Client 1, You 0.

“Tell him, I’ll be up in a second”

The unannounced appearance brings a productive day to a screeching halt. It now is time to stop whatever legal work that is in progress along with multiple IM conversations presently occurring as well as the random internet surfing. I have to go put on my Big-Boy face on and pretend to be a competent professional.

That’s a problem in and of itself. I can bullshit with the best of them for a certain period of time but sooner or later, I run out of intelligent-sounding non-committal phrases.

When a client shows up like this, for me, it usually means that they want to complain about something. “Where’s my money” is a frequent gripe. “What’s taking so long and where’s my money” echoes often. I could go on and on but, there’s only so many ways someone can waste my time kvetching about the coin of the realm.

“As I’ve told you from the beginning, these things take time”

The moment I utter those words, it’s like I’ve just spit in the clients face. And there I sit praying that I can keep the client happy and extricate myself in an orderly fashion. Fifty some-odd minutes later the client has finished. The day can now begin. Again.

This happened twice today.

Going Postal

I’m out of the office with Bambi (the trusty law clerk) running a few errands after court. As I don't want to go back to the office, I am tagging along with him. Our first stop is the post office.

Since he is going on firm business, he has a firm check to cover the cost of services. He also has a letter of authorization (i.e. permission slip from daddy) to use the firm checks to purchase postal goods and services.

Bambi presented the check, his letter, his driver’s license and was summarily denied the ability to purchase postal goods and services. I was not happy:

Clerk: We don’t take out of state drivers licenses.
Bambi: Uh…what?
Me: It’s a company check.
Clerk: It’s POST OFFICE POLICY, we don take out of state drivers LICENSES!

At this point, she grabs a paper towel to wipe the flop sweat from her face.

Me: Well, we can remedy that right quick.
Clerk: Did you sign that check?
Me: No. But…
Clerk: He is going to have to come back with an Illinois Drivers License.
Me: Here’s my credit card.

I have lost all patience with this woman. I have extended my credit card in a manner as if it were a sword and I am trying to stab the stupid out of her. Unfortunately it does not work.

Clerk: You are going to have to sign the back of this card.
Me: It was signed, it has rubbed away. See that [shows her the back of the card that has clearly rubbed away over time]
Clerk: I can’t take AN UNSIGNED CREDIT CARD SIR. SIGN THE BACK OF THE CARD!!
Me: Whatever.

I snatch my credit card back from her and sign it. And I hand it back to her with a little more vitriol than before.

Clerk: I need to see your driver’s license.
Me: Take it.

I pop my drivers license out of my wallet and I semi-toss/semi-hand it in her direction. She wasn’t ready for it but it only traveled about 8 inches from my hand, missing her hand by about an inch. It falls and hits the postal scale in front of me and bounces back in my direction.

Clerk: ARE YOU TRYING TO THROW THINGS AT ME?
Me: No. I dropped my driver’s license.
Clerk: I THINK YOU WERE TRYING TO THROW THAT AT ME!!!
Me: I wasn’t.
Clerk: I THINK YOU WERE.
Me: Trust me when I say that I would have hit you if I had thrown it.

Now, up until this point, I was annoyed. I was about to become enraged. The clerk takes my drivers license and my credit card, holds them up and stares at them.

Clerk: The signatures don’t match. I can’t take your credit card.
Me: What?
Clerk: I need you to re-sign the back of your credit card to match the signature on your driver’s license.
Me: Are you joking?
Clerk: Your driver’s license and your credit card signatures don’t match, I can’t take this. IT’S POST OFFICE POLICY TO PREVENT FRAUD.
Me: You just had me sign the card in front of you.
Clerk: THIS IS OUR FRAUD PREVENTION POLICY.
Me: You want me to re-sign my credit card to match the signature on my driver’s license?
Clerk: That’s the only way I can take your credit card.
Me: THAT MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE! I just signed the card in front of you!
Clerk: That’s the only way I can the card.
Me: You are aware that the photo on my driver’s license is me. Shouldn’t be that what matters?
Clerk: That could be a fake. You have to sign the back of the credit card to match the driver’s license.
Me: I can give you my law license, my Cook County Lawyers ID Card, my DuPage County Lawyers ID Card or a damn CVS card. Every card in my wallet matches my face. But that signature is twelve years old, I can’t sign my name like that.
Clerk: Then I can’t take this.
Me: I want to talk to your manager.
Clerk: YOU CAN TRY TALKING TO ME.
Me: I’ve wasted enough time with you. Take the damn card.

The staring contest begins. I do not flinch. Neither does she. At first. She swipes the card, hands me a credit card receipt which I sign and hand it back to her. She doesn’t even look at the signature on the receipt nor does she say another word to me as we conclude the transaction.

I hope I didn’t scare Bambi.

You aren’t going to be a millionaire. (Sorry)

Dear Client, (Hello Neuman…)

I hope that you are doing well. (Because what I’m about to tell you is really going to piss you off)

I wanted to give you a status update on your case. (As much as I love your incessant e-mailing, calling and overt stalking of my office, I need something in writing to prove that I am not committing malpractice)

We have had multiple discussions with our consulting medical expert regarding your case. (This is the guy that you are on the hook for paying his bill if your case implodes. When I say conversations, I mean that I asked who I make the check out to and for how much)

Unfortunately, (Run children, run!)

He has informed us that there is no link between the complications that you have endured and the medical malpractice that occurred during your doctor’s visit. (Despite your complaints of sexual dysfunction, night terrors, explosive diarrhea and love of Keith Olbermann, we just can’t blame this on the medical mistake)

We will now be looking to other injuries that you have suffered as a result of the doctor’s mistake. (It’s not that your case is shot. It’s just that your case isn’t worth seven figures anymore…and that makes me sad by one third)

Specifically, we will be looking to focus on the traumatic psychological and emotional trauma that you have endured because of this malpractice. (You couldn’t have been this crazy before you walked into my office, right?)

Please discuss with your wife, your family and friends and I look forward to hearing from you soon. (while wearing earplugs and football pads)

Very truly yours,

Namby

My actions have been taken out of context. Or not.

Secretary: What are you rocking out to in there?
Me: Shakira.
Secretary: ...
Me: Don’t judge me.

Improving my asking and answering

I have spent time over the past several days reviewing the transcript from the deposition that I took while suffering from Vuvuzela brain. I have determined that several things need to change in my deposing-while-hungover strategy:

1. Less cursing on the record. Using the phrase “holy shit” or “oh fuck” do not come across as excited utterances on the pages of a deposition transcript. They come across as if I had screamed that in a church. While the pastor was giving a sermon.

2. Ask for a break, don’t just take one. Nothing screams “I have to urinate all over the court reporter” like matter of factly announcing you are taking a break. And rushing out of the room.

3. “Strike That” does not strike that. When you are stumbling over the English language (like you’ve just been released from Nurse Ratched’s head injury unit) relying on “strike that” will not act as an eraser to the final transcript. It just highlights for your partner the multiple places where you just lost your ability to intelligently communicate with another human being.

It’s all about tweaking the little things. And avoiding to soil ones clothes while sitting in opposing counsel’s conference room.

The most wonderful time of every four years

Let me just put it out there: I love the World Cup. And I wish everyone else did too.

(For those of you that don't care for soccer, it's ok...I'll return to law, alcohol and other examples of my idiocy next time around.)

The Olympics are fun, but there is nothing close to the emotional levels exhibited by the fans of the beautiful game. I wish we had that exuberance. I wish we had that passion. I wish we had that unity.

Our nation will turn a slightly interested eye for the next month, namely thanks to ESPN's expansive coverage. But unless the United States does something that would be more amazing than peace in the middle east, there will be no nation rising behind the 23 men representing the stars and stripes.

Here's to hoping for a miracle.

Summering with Namby: Part I

Law Clerk, thy name is Bambi.

Bambi (no, he’s not John Dorian) is a really good kid and has just finished his first year of last school. Good kids, while they are intelligent, hardworking and knowledgeable, have absolutely zero idea on how things work in the practice of law. My job, as I have decided, is to fix that.

Last week, I asked what I should have Bambi do while he is spending his summer at my firm. After that post, I received a lot of creative, useful and some downright evil suggestions on how to use his time. For instance: I took him to court with me, but didn’t tell him that we were going into Judge’s chambers. “Your Honor, I’d like you to meet Bambi...”

Despite the look of terror that briefly flashed over him, I don’t think that many law firm clerks can say that they were having private conversations with presiding judges on their second day.

However, as much as Bambi is there for my entertainment needs, I also need to (a) have him do work and (b) educate him.

Slowly but surely, I am handing off my MBW in the typical fashion which reduces my stress level exponentially. I am able to Feng Shui my desk by dumping crap onto his. The downside is this: it takes more time to explain to him what I want done, edit his first cut, review my changes with him, buy him ice cream because I’ve hurt his feelings and then finalize something that was already overdue before I handed it to him in the first place. For those wondering, MBW stands for Mindless Bitch Work, but I digress…

I was honest with Bambi in his first day: “I’m going to try and have you do things that you will have no idea what you are doing. That’s fine. We don’t expect you to know what you are doing. But I am going to do my best to make your resume blow your classmates right out of the water. I have friends that don’t have jobs right now, I don’t want you to be in that position come 5 years from now. You understand?”

He nodded.

“Here’s a client file, draft the complaint, I need it in two hours.”

I provide free legal services to my friends. They get what they pay for.

I’ve been asked to represent one of my friends in an administrative matter. He’s only starting to grasp the magnitude of his error.

I filled out the paperwork, went to his office yesterday for his signature and we went to the department to file our documentation. He and I got shuffled around from office to office until we finally get latched up with, as best as I can tell, is the boss of this governmental office:

Boss: How can I help you?
Me: He didn’t pay his taxes, arrest him.
Friend: ALLEGEDLY!
Me: Big time criminal here, arrest him.
Friend: Some sort of lawyer you are.

As we were leaving the area and heading back to my friend’s office, we passed an Illinois State Trooper. I walked up to him, pointed to my friend and whispered: “He didn’t pay his taxes, please arrest him.”

Who needs legal help? Anybody? Hello???

Competent, Coherent and Timely Legal Representation

After rushing to blow one motion deadline, we conference:

Me: Are there other pending motions that we have to worry about?
Partner: Probably?

Everyone here is on top of things. I assure you. I think.

Molding a future lawyer

I've got a law student for the summer and frankly, I'm excited. Not only do I get to hand off the annoying work that prevents me from napping on an hourly basis. It's my opportunity to mold a starbucks barista lawyer-in-training and teach him all of the bad habits that I have learned in three years of practicing law.

The first time I took him to court, my plan was to bring him with me before the bench. I figured, I could have the judge scare the desire to continue lawyering out of him. Unfortunately, my ultimate plan to reduce my future job competition was foiled by a less than happy judge and a super crowded court call. I did get him to admit that he was nervous just sitting there watching a normal Daley center court call take place. It was a small victory.

On a positive note, he didn't go screaming from the office after his first day.

On a negative note, he didn't go screaming from the office after his first day.

I intend to expose him to as much of my lawyering life as I can. But how do I go about doing it in a manner that is entertaining for me?