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?

The Casual Friday Memo re: Being More Casual

MEMO TO: All secretaries, paralegals, law clerks, claims handlers, judicial staff, opposing counsel and anyone everywhere that I come into contact with in a professional capacity.

FROM: Namby. Just Namby. Not. Mr. Pamby, Counselor Pamby or Mr. Namby Pamby, Esq.

I’m 27 and I’ve been a licensed, practicing attorney for over two years. Let me rephrase: I’m 27 and I’ve been in the working world for two years. I have no blockbuster verdicts to my name, I’ve never negotiated an eleven-figure merger nor have I successfully become Chief Justice Robert’s right hand man. In other words, I don’t want reverence solely because I am a guy that spent seven straight years in the land of higher education.

Yes, I went to law school. Yes, I passed the bar. Yes, I have a job at a firm. But that doesn’t mean that I am somehow God’s gift to the professional world. I’m a lawyer. Woopeedoo.

My simple request for all of the people that I come in contact with: STOP CALLING ME MISTER! Using my first name is not a crime. I prefer it. And maybe, it’ll make our jobs just that much easier (especially if you don’t think I am some sort of pretentious asshat).

The client is mister, ma’am, sir, your worshipfulness, etc. Not me. I’m just the professional bullshit artist in the nice suit.

Very truly yours,

Namby

If only I could make this policy effective...

I wore my nicest tie today (just in case I had an unscheduled rendezvous with the county coroner)

My day in court was defined by having to deal with two people that weren’t lawyers. I don’t want to say that I was really worried, but that chance of unpredictability was definitely at the forefront of my thoughts as I sat in the Courtroom today.

To show why I had a worry about what may occur, you must understand who I was about to deal with in the courtroom:

The Oft-Institutionalized Bat-Shit Crazy Plaintiff

The last time I spoke with her, she was so happy as she was absolutely convinced that this rock-solid case was worth two million dollars. She wanted to let me know that she had just asked J.G. Wentworth for a ten percent cash advance on her pending settlement. I told her that she needed to dismiss her rock-solid case because there was no rock nor solid to her case. That went over like a fart in church.

When I told her that if she did not direct me to do so, I intended to ask the court for permission to run fleeing from her. That went over even better. She had quite a few pleasant words regarding my intellect, my professional abilities and my masculinity. Right before she hung up, she let me know that she was looking forward to seeing me in court. After she had gone to the ARDC.

For some reason, stating that I have an ethical duty to the Court just pisses some people right off…

The Slumlord Defendant

This individual had been served a long time ago but never showed up in Court. Finally, we filed the Motion for Default and had it sent to him in every possible way (*except I did not show up on his doorstep and personally hand him a copy). This finally got his attention. I got a profanity laced tirade phone call on the day he received the UPS package containing my dirty gym clothes the Motion for Default. ‘You don’t fucking mess with me’ was the final wisdom he imparted to me as the phone was slammed down.

Turns out that any anxiety was for naught (suburban courthouses have metal detectors!) because the one factor I left out in my pre-court analysis was the individual in the black robe. The judge doesn’t like dealing with insolent people. that don’t have the common decency to go to law school and call themselves 'Esq.'

If everyone is a snowflake, today was my day with yellow snow.

Working towards a better economic future: A public service announcement

Supposedly, the economy is in the tank. I’m not really sure what this means, but it has probably something to do with why I have friends that I went to law school with that don’t have a job as a lawyer.

My firm, as it seems most, has instituted cost cutting measures across the board to help with the bottom line. For instance, I am actively ‘borrowing’ Westlaw from two law students. “I don’t know why it says For Educational Use Only, your Honor…” It’s not a culture shock per se, but it is one that focuses on the business end of practicing law.

In the spirit of ‘we’re all in this together’ I am trying to do my part: I’ve stopped photocopying portions of my body 1000 copies at a time, I raid other offices supply storage areas for neat supplies that I’ll never use and I now call the annoying clients collect.

I encourage you all to do you part.

While finding a way to bill your clients for that time.

When a Paralegal calls…

I have a standard non-standard personal injury case where the Plaintiff’s attorney seems to be committing malpractice a bit aloof. My client was sued and we promptly filed a counterclaim because, as far as we can tell, the Plaintiff was the responsible party…but police officers, eyewitnesses and documents evidencing this position are probably all lying.

There have been several court dates regarding case progress, all of which I have attended but none of which have been attended by the Plaintiff’s counsel. After each court appearance, I dutifully send the order with a cover letter to the opposing counsel and ask for him to contact me so that we may discuss the case. To date, this attorney and I have never spoken.

As much as I enjoy clogging the docket of the Cook County courts, sooner or later actions needs to occur. When we first began this case, we filed a counterclaim and here we are several months after, and the Plaintiff has not responded in any manner. In order to trigger a response, hopefully just a simple phone call, I filed a motion asking the court to compel a response or to deem the counterclaim admitted.

The Court hearing starts and the opposing counsel is a no show. [Big. Surprise.] The judge asked what I wanted and I figured that this is no time to undersell. I asked that my counterclaim be deemed admitted. The judge smiled at me and said no. She went a step better and entered a judgment in favor of my client. Game over. I win. Back to the office I go and send off a copy of the order to the other side hoping that the other attorney will finally reach out to me.

Time flies by and I hear nothing. Until today.

Paralegal: I’m calling regarding a deposition we have scheduled tomorrow.
Me: Ok?
Paralegal: In the Smith v. Jones case?
Me: Um…
Paralegal: We need to reschedule.
Me: …
Paralegal: Is that ok?
Me: You realize that the court entered a judgment in our favor.
Paralegal: I know. But what about the deposition?

The lesson that I am taking is this: If the opposing legal theory is “Sue the Victim!” nothing but trouble is coming.

For post number 1200, I bring tidings of good news and great joy

Over the last two weeks, I have been laid low by the swine flu. It's been fun. Really. I haven't left the house since I got home from work last Wednesday. But now, after more medications, I can taste food again and I plan to be at the office tomorrow. Even if it means giving swine flu to my clients. Suckas.

However, my health is not the purpose of this post.

The good folks at the ABA Journal have deemed my rantings, ravings and recantings worth reading for the second straight year.

I've been nominated in the third annual ABA Journal Blawg 100 for 2009 in the 'lighter fare' category. All I can say is that I am humbled, grateful and glad that every time I pass the ABA building in Chicago I leave $100 for the editors hoping that I can live up to the expectations.

Thank you ABA Journal. This is a huge honor. One that I surely will not forget any time soon.

This is not the way I wanted to be spending by Thanksgiving

Swine flu is a bitch.

But that’s just because I can’t breathe out of my nose and have a horrendously sore throat.

That’s really all I can say. I got better. Then I got worse. And then I spent the time that was supposed to be the family Thanksgiving gathering by myself because I was feeling too disgusting to socialize, eat or be human.

The worry around the holidays is that you are going to overindulge in tasty treats. Presently, I am over indulging in hot tea, napping on the couch and napping in my bed. On the positive: I am not dead [yet]. On the negative: I am having the hardest time sleeping.

It’s a bad sign when I want to take every cold, sinus and flu medicine in the house in addition to the antibiotics to help me feel better.

Ugh.

The Second Most Terrifying Thing in Lawyering

I believe that the most terrifying thing I do as an attorney is handing my partner a brief for the first time ever. “Don’t fire me because I’m stupid. Please”

The second most terrifying aspect of my job is when my partner calls me into his office, motions for me to sit down, hands me a copy of a brief that he just wrote and says “I want your thoughts.”

I have no trouble speaking truth to power. I’m pretty adept at it. And perhaps, I engage in it a little too frequently. But this is different. This is my boss, the one who signs my paychecks, handing me his hard work, a red pen and a hunting license. “Don’t fire me because I think you’re stupid. Please”

I took the brief to the morning court call and started to jot down my thoughts as I casually waited my case being. I startled my opposing counsel when I began to laugh at one point…[the word ‘mismash’ is funny to me]. I returned to the office, fired up Word, hit ‘track changes’ and started editing in a manner fitting my linguistic style. Passive voice became active, the word choice became a little more cutting edge and the brief just began to flow.

203 changes later…

I get called into my partner’s office. He’s got the 14 pages of the brief strewn in front of him, a contorted look on his face and he motions for me to sit down. He goes to the last page and begins to talk: “I’m going through this and I am incorporating some of your changes. Except for this one. [Points to the page] This one sentence is supposed to be singular, not plural.” Well, I thought ahh…that it should… “Don’t argue with an English

After taking the hacksaw correction pen to the partner’s baby, I still have a job. At least until the next time he asks for my thoughts…

Attempting to repay the piper

One of the less publicized portions of personal injury legal work occurs without the chasing of ambulances. This fun job responsibility is the process where we, as lawyers, negotiate down the liens held by insurance companies, medical providers or the government so that our clients end up walking away with more money from their settlement. And we can justify taking one third. Plus costs.

For those that think I am talking in gibberish, when you have an accident and your health insurance pays the bills for your care, the health insurance company can likely demand to be reimbursed if you are compensated. (I say this knowing that there are a lot of caveats and other things…but all I am asking is that you work with me here)

“Ah yes, Doctor Jones, you are entitled to $50,000, but you should take nothing and like it…”

Typically, we want stupid people doing the negotiating because, shockingly, we can take advantage of them with big lawyer words, martinis and a paisley tie get really good deals for our clients that way. The best example that I know of went something like this: my partner was negotiating with Medicare. At issue was a $200,000 lien that the federal government held on our client’s settlement. The negotiating strategy was complex: “Please…um…could our client keep her money?” The government, after listening to my partner’s folksy plea, buckled under the pressure.

And accepted $3,000 in full payment of the lien.

But the fact that there are a lot of idiots handling the lien claims cuts against us just as frequently. I’ve had a doctor yell at me because his bill wasn’t paid within a week of the settlement check arriving at our office. (The doctor was owed $140.00). Clients don’t understand how negotiating takes time. (It’s been three days since we’ve settled…what do you mean that you have to withhold the funds?!?). Business managers get offended when you ask for a reduction in the amount owed by the client. (Your client should be so lucky to have gotten any treatment for her injuries! Now pay us in full or we will go to court!)

What got me thinking about the idea of settlements, liens and all of this jazz was a phone call that I got late this afternoon. The call came from a lienholder servicing corporation [a collection agency with arrogance] that I have dealt with in the past. The phone calls with this group never end well:

Lienholder: Yes, I’m calling on behalf of XYZ Hospital and I want to know the status of the Jones settlement.
Me: Ok. Have you sent us a lien?
Lienholder: Absolutely.
Me: Looking through the file, it doesn’t seem that we received one. Can you send me another copy?
Lienholder: We already sent you one.
Me: I know that’s what you said, but I don’t have a copy of it. I’m not doubting you, but if I am going to work with this on you, I have to have an actual idea of what the lien says.
Lienholder: But we sent you one.
Me: Just send me another one, fax it, email it, doesn’t matter, I just need a copy.
Lienholder: You should already have a copy.
Me: All I am asking for is a copy.
Lienholder: I’ll just call back later.
Me: You realize I won’t have a copy of the lien unless you send it to me again.
Lienholder: [Hangs up]

Now remember, he wants me to pay him money. Let’s think if that is going to happen anytime soon.

Better lawyering through chemistry?

I’ve been sick for the past week. It’s been awesome. Not. I took Wednesday and Thursday off so I could celebrate my trial win in style take up residency on the couch and mainline lemon tea and an array of pharmaceuticals.

Friday morning arrived and while I can delay complying with a court ordered deadline due to my illness, the statute of limitations would not be so malleable. Under the influence, trying to get a complaint ready for filing was as mentally taxing an activity as I have encountered in the practice of law. The aftermath has taught me several points worth mentioning:

1. Copy, cut and paste and go horridly wrong if your head is socked in with fog. [Worse things can happen when attempting to do the aforementioned while engaging in e-mailing and/or g-chatting]
2. Operating a stapler constitutes the use of heavy machinery. [Might have had to restaple a few times.]
3. Writing a check was too much for me. [I wrote out the amount due to the clerk in the area reserved for actual numbers]

Anyway, I’m heading in tomorrow. I’m off the big boy pills and back onto the over the counter, by the handful variety. I’m hoping that I can hide in the office, unplug the phone and sleep.

But we all know that that won’t happen meaning it could be an interesting Monday.