Here's your sign

I’ve got one case that is like a bottle of wine. A bottle of boxed wine.

And it gets worse every day.

Over the past 12 months, we have been able to resolve the “problem” cases except for this Albatross. This one will not settle and my delay-at-all-cost strategy has just been ended by judicial fiat.

We are heading to trial. Where we will almost certainly lose. In coping with this set back, I broke down the positives and negatives with my partner. The signs are telling us that we need to stop wasting our time on this case:

Signs of Weakness

1. The Client has a malleable relationship with the truth (especially while under oath).
2. The Client has a relevant (and insuppressible) history with the Federal Bureau of Prisons.
3. The Client thinks she is smarter than everyone. And will tell you why.
4. The Client’s claim is not supported by the evidence.
5. The Client is not likable. The Defendant is extremely likable.
5a. I like the Defendant. I do not like my client.

Signs of Strength

1. I can have a charming personality.
2. I have better ties than my opposing counsel.
3. I would be much more comfortable if this list had a substantive third strength.

It’s never a good sign when your client will accept nothing less than 200 times the Defendant’s final settlement offer.

It’s a bad sign when your client has more criminal convictions than I have fingers.

And it’s a downright damning sign when your opposing counsel knows all of this...and gleefully tells you the only option you have left is to “roll the dice” with the jury.

My client scared me to death

Dear Client:

I know that you are presently in a facility that is not your first choice of residence. I know that you don’t like the fellows and ladies that live along with you behind those cloistered rubber walls because they are [insert your racist reasoning of the day here] ignoring the fact that you were not born in this country. I know that you nucking futs.

Today, however, you have outdone even your multiple personality self with your latest letter to my office.

The handwritten note that starts “Hi Namby, My Dear Namby” wasn’t really the issue that prompted the heart palpitations, flop sweat or excessive swearing when the mail arrived today.

The problem was that in addition to your love note you included a second letter on larger paper. That second letter was all I saw when I opened up the envelope. All that I saw when I pulled out the paper from the envelope were the 5 worst words in the English language for an attorney:

“ATTORNEY REGISTRATION AND DISCIPLINARY COMMISION”

Thanks for causing chest pain.

Very truly yours,

Namby Pamby
No Longer Your Attorney at Law
thenambypamby@gmail.com

p.s. It doesn’t matter that this was a five-year old letter or that it was about an attorney that you retained nearly 20 years ago.

p.p.s I don't know why you can't find a guy like me. It could be be that you are twice my age and have none of your original teeth. But stop asking me this question...it's getting creepy.

If only I could say what I mean

What I say: "In order to be able to respond to counsel's and the opposing party's baseless allegations, my client needs discovery and depositions."

What I mean: "My client is a lying sack of monkey-spunk and I have the misfortune of getting into a battle where the other side is bigger, stronger and right...but I need to make sure that I don't get sued by the client after they fire me."

It's 10pm and I hate spewing legalese representing scumbags.

The Bastard Case is Dead, long live the Bastard Case

One of the first cases I was assigned three years ago has finally settled.

If you couldn’t tell from the title of this post, I have spent three years ignoring this case. Seriously ignoring this case.

There were multiple motions to reinstate the case…because someone forgot about the court date. All the while, the defense firms ignored all of my settlement demands, suggestions of bad faith activities and my overall general snark. My interest in resolving this by means other than self-induced Alzheimers only appeared when I thought I was going to get yelled at by the Judge.

In my defense, the client kind of forgot about the case.

Up until last week, the first time I actually had a conversation (with an attorney from the opposing counsel’s office) about this case was…um…never. These are the joys of dealing with a substandard insurance company. Out of the blue comes a call from the new defense firm. The third defense firm in the last 18 months. “Hey, what will it take to settle this?”

The bastard case is no longer. Now, I just need to find a new case to ignore, abuse and generally forget.

Or not.

Dirty coffeepot prevents malpractice

I woke up early this morning thinking about a case I just filed last week. Those of you who've practiced without rear ending the ambulance Plaintiff's litigation, you likely know what I was experiencing: the "Oh shit" feeling.

This case got filed on Friday because our firm never wants to mess with the statute of limitations. The feeling, however, originates from the fact that the case walked in the door last Monday. Meaning, we didn't get to really dot all of our I's nor cross all of our T's (read: our private investigator was on vacation) thus, we were not sure of all the proper defendants when we filed the complaint. (We had a good idea, but...we weren't 100% sure...hold your surprise)

Enter 5:45 this morning when I can't fall back sleep due to my oh shit feeling.

Enter 5:48 in the morning when I discover both of my coffee pots are dirty.

I need coffee. I need it fast. Thus, time to drive to get coffee. It just so happens that the case that I just filed deals with a coffee shop that is nearby my house. I drive, I arrive, I look around and I order coffee. I see nothing that helps my case.

But...as I wait for the coffee, I see a sign with a company name. A company that is not named in the lawsuit we just filed. Time to amend the complaint, drink my coffee and let the boss know we dodged a potential bullet.

It may suck to work on a holiday (especially before seven in the morning) but it sucks a hell of a lot more to blow the statute of limitations and find out when the Motion to Dismiss arrives at your office four months from now.

Happy Labor Day. I'm going back to bed with no more oh shit feeling.

Confession

I have a hard time staying motivated to work after 10 at night when I know that I am just going to take the brunt of a particular judge's wrath.

That's why I have a few glasses of wine. And pray that I'll catch my slap happy editorial comments in the morning when I do the final once over of my emergency brief.

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.

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.

12 Steps: A career moment, a crippling hangover and you

Without further adieu, a failsafe plan to take a great deposition while avoiding career suicide:

Step One: Have an incredibly important job related function on a Friday.

This can either be a trial, major deposition, motion argument or the like. It’s importance cannot be understated.

Step Two: Get together with friends for an innocuous dinner on Thursday.

In my case it was the likes of Daisy, her husband and Legally Fabulous. In this step, it is key to stop at the local alcohol provider and find high end alcohol (in our case it was Hendrick’s Gin) on super sale. Purchase. Have said husband announce “Let’s get drunk” or something to that effect. Head to Casa de Libation. Drink.

Step Three: Finish old bottle of Hendrick’s gin (about a quarter bottle), finish new bottle, drink Tequila while Daisy’s husband “catches up” on the gin and tonics. Drink Macallan’s 15 Year Old Single Malt Scotch when Gin runs out. Chase with a beer. Pass out.

Never said I was smart.

Step Four: Shockingly wake up with a hangover as Daisy is making breakfast.

I wanted to die. Then I showered. I still wanted to die, but I was less stanky.

Step Five: Commence boozy walk of shame to the office.

In this case it was a cab ride. I couldn’t walk nor could I stand public transportation. The world was spinning. Perhaps I was still drunk.

Step Six: Arrive at the office without being seen.

It helps when you know your bosses won’t be in until much later in the day. It also helps when you have a friend in the office that kindly tells you that you are covered in the stench of booze. I borrowed his aftershave to cover the gin smell seeping from my pores. It’s at this point that you need to begin drinking every non-alcoholic beverage you can find as quickly as possible.

Step Seven: Survive the dry heaves.

I’ll say that I was in the bathroom at the same time as one of my friends during his morning constitutional. That helped. It’s best not to be alone when attempting to void the contents of your stomach while wearing a $1,000 suit.

Step Eight: Flee Depart the office for your deposition.

The critical element here is that the deposition is far enough away from your office but close enough to your home that you can (a) leave the office with enough to go home beforehand and (b) call the opposing counsel and ask them to delay the deposition. In this small stay of execution, you can take a shower to get the smell of despair and juniper berry and acquire a change of clothes.

Step Nine: Arrive at opposing counsel’s office with your inner rockstar on display

Waltz into the conference room with your sunglasses on. Empty your briefcase on the table: (1) iPad, notepad, waterbottle, vitamin water, vitamin water and vitamin water.

Step 10: Survive questioning by those in attendance

“Are you hungover?” Yes. I am hoping to avoid having to ask for a break so I can go vomit. Now shut up and answer the question.

Step 11: Rock the deposition

You’ll be amazed at how much energy you get back as you are trying not to puke all over the witness. Clarence Darrow, if he were a drunk, would have been proud.

Step 12: Finish Deposition, Return Home, Die

Simple. Now go forth and do.

Learning on the fly (as the plane is falling out of the sky)

Partner: Yeah, I am going to need you to find out about this area of law and what we need to do to file an action in it.
Me: I know nothing about this area of the law.
Partner: Me either.
Me: What sort of deadline are we looking at?
Partner: Monday.

Good thing it's supposed to snow this weekend.

Haste makes waste

I make mistakes and it happens more than I like to admit. I get to laugh at most of my mistakes and my clients are never that prejudiced for when I have an attack of the stupids.

Lo and behold, I hav dne screwd up agin.

However, this time I have to have a judge sign off on my mistake as being harmless. This oopsie involves a court order where yours truly wrote the wrong date on it: I wrote January 5th when it was actually January 6th. The clerk file-stamped the order with my error on it and on my way I went. (Note: the filestamp put the correct date on the order).

At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I should have. And now, a year later, I am responding to a Motion to Dismiss because of my handwriting error.

Writing the brief where my actions are the focus is a whole new experience and signing an affidavit stating that I am an idiot just adds insult to injury:

1. I am over the age of twenty-one and licensed to practice law in the State of Illinois
2. On January 6, 2009, I was the attorney present before the court in this matter.
3. I filled out the form order at issue in this motion and it is my handwriting that says the date was January 5, 2009.
4. I mistakenly wrote the wrong date in the order.
5. I forgot the damn date and defense counsel is making me look like even more of an idiot.
6. Further affiant sayeth not.

The real kick in the pants is that the date that I mistakenly filled in is in the area typically reserved for the judge to fill out.

I was just trying to make the whole process go a little bit faster.

I’ve got a case of the Mondays

I got handed a client file at 8:45 this morning and was told that I was heading to a deposition at 3 this afternoon.

The love child of the spirit of Knute Rocke and 2006-era State Senator Barack Obama filled my partner’s body and as he gave the most inspiring pep talk ever uttered in the history of mankind: “It doesn’t really matter what he says. Just go.”

Since receiving the file, it has accomplished a lot: (1) collected dust, (2) act as a manilla colored paper weight and (3) be my lunch’s place mat on my desk.

This could be a disaster. Or the greatest deposition ever. Or an early nap.

The Client Drop In

My clients were in the Courtroom.

There they were, sitting in the back row of the Courtroom.

And I had no idea that they were going to be there.

I made this discovery as Plaintiff’s counsel and I were turning away from the bench after our brief status hearing. I did the only thing that made sense: made eye contact with the CEO and CFO, smile at them both and then promptly drop everything I had brought to the bench with me.

The problem was not that the clients showed up, the problem was going to be the time I was going to have to spend time talking with them. I don’t like spending time with them.

Because they make my brain itch.

These clients do not feel the inspiration to follow our instructions, requests nor do they respond kindly when we get down on our knees to beg These clients also believe that they know more than their attorneys, the judge and anyone ever born in the history of the universe. These are the clients that we have to lie to them about court deadlines focus the truth so we can scare the fear of God into them to get them to comply with discovery deadlines in an orderly manner.

A simple five minute case conference turned into an impromptu meeting in the courthouse coffeeshop where the clients waxed rhapsodic about the injustices of the justice system, the wicked Plaintiff’s attorney, the ungodly amount that my firm charges them and anything else that they could find awful about life.

That five minute case conference turned into two billable hours of my life that I will never get back.

Fostering successful client relations

At 12:15, I get a call:

Reception: Your client is here.
Me: Great. I’ll be right with him.

I hang up the phone and return to work on this persnickety complaint. Time starts to meander by.

12:22—Continue finalizing a pleading
12:27—Partner Calls
12:31—Check e-mail
12:32—Check Twitter
12:34—Check Fax Machine
12:36—Print Finalized pleading for partner review
12:38—Deliver pleading to partner
12:39—Research cause of action for potential client
12:43—Begin gChat and continue research
12:50—Why do I feel like I’m missing something? Check calender. Find nothing.
12:53—Opposing counsel calls.
12:54—More Twitter and e-mail while the phone call continues
12:55—I guess I should get some coffee.
12:56—Hey look, my client is sitting in reception. What’s he doing here?

Whoops.

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.

These things always happen when the Partner is out of communication range

It's 2pm, I’ve just returned from a CLE, I’m thinking about grabbing lunch, and the phone rings:

Corporate Client Executive (C.C.E.): The CEO has asked if you can send us everything by 3pm
Me: Um…What are you talking about?
C.C.E: The non-disclosure agreement.
Me: You never contacted me about this.
C.C.E.: Oh.
Me: Yeah.
C.C.E.: Can you send us a Non-Disclosure Agreement by 3pm?
Me: I suppose. Is it going to be a short-form or long form NDA?
C.C.E.: The CEO didn’t tell me.
Me: Well, what area of your business will it be used for?
C.C.E.: I don’t know. But we need it by 3pm.

53 minutes later, the NDA was sent out.

I Provide Competent, Cogent and Coherent Representation

First Take:

Judge: Namby, step up.
Me: Judge, the opposing ahhh….ummm...what am I trying to say here? Yeah...
Judge: Yes?
Me: Right…yes. The opposing counsel.
Judge: What about him?
Me: He is outside. Sorry your honor…brain isn’t working yet today.

Second Take, different judge

Me: Judge, I believe the reason that discovery has yet to close is that there are depositions that have yet to be taken.
Judge: Why not?
Defense counsel: Because they are in Arizona.
Judge: Arizona? That is civilization is it not? They have airports? There is no swine flu in Arizona. You go to Arizona.
Me: Your Honor, there may be no swine flu but the Defense counsel could be wary of the awful dry heat.
Judge: Take the deposition by telephone then. No swine flu. No heat. No problem.

Third Take is the charm

Me: Your Honor, as you can see the Plaintiff clearly has… [at this point my brief and my notes slides off the lectern]

Fourth Time Gets it Done?

Judge: Counsel, do you have your pre-trial memorandum?
Me: Unfortunately, I do not have the pre-trial…I do not have the pre-trial [gesturing frantically trying to gesticulate the words out of my mouth]…
Judge: [Pronouncing each of the syllables] Pre-Trial Memorandum.
Me: Right. I don’t have that or the ability to talk coherently in front of you.

A halfwit client, a benevolent judge and the attorney in the middle

I have this client that is wound a little too tight for her own good. She lives and breathes her case. She monitors the electronic docket that Cook County. She calls when there is the slightest change or entry that does not make sense to her [which, given that her legal education came from Boston Legal, means everything does not make sense]. To compound this further, she lives out of state in a jurisdiction that doesn’t really conform to normal legal processes.

About a month ago, due to a simple mix-up, I missed the court call for this client’s case and it was dismissed for want of prosecution. The client checked the electronic docket and went ballistic. To pour a little gas on the fire, I wasn’t in the office when the client called to go ballistic. The client then called the Clerk of the Court. The Clerk kindly told the client that after a DWP order has been entered, the case is completely dead and that the client is totally screwed. This couldn’t be farther from the truth, but the client wasn’t buying it as her world was now officially over. The client finally got in touch with me on her seventh attempt when I walked back into the office. And went nuts. (It probably did not help that I did not know it had been dismissed…)

45 minutes of talking her off the ledge, I assured her that this was a simple matter to clear up and that we have a form motion to take care of it. [Three sentences, copy & past the caption, print and file…simple]. For the next several weeks I get daily phone calls and e-mails about this motion. This client openly tells me that she cannot sleep because of this and that she is chain-smoking several packs a day. I tell her to “calm [cough] the fuck [cough] down” because everything will be fine. I would have been better served talking to a wall of drying paint.

Today was the motion hearing to get the case reinstated and this is my first time in front of this particular judge. After having asked around, I found out that this particular jurist has a poor reputation and can be incredibly mean to attorneys. The motion I bring, while it is a commonplace motion without any frills, certain Judges take issue and have been known to chew out the attorneys bringing the motion. This could be fun.

I step up, the judge asks why we missed the last date, I brace for impact and I tell her the truth: “my partner and I had a mix-up in communication and the junior associate [I point to myself and hang my head in shame] just missed the hearing.” She promptly granted my motion. And then does something I have never had happen: the Judge orders the Clerk to refund the motion cost because I had a legitimate excuse for missing the hearing. The Judge gave me my money back and cover with my client…who knew these things were possible?

As the Judge was reviewing the order I had drafted, I planted myself against the wall because I didn’t want my movement to offend the Judge in any way [yes, Judge’s are like T-Rex…sensitive to movement] and have her change her mind. I got the order back and found that the Judge had added more language that padded my already thick cover with the client. I walked out of the Courtroom with a dumb grin on my face and a giddy-up hitch in my step.

I have already offered my partner a friendly wager on when this client will call demanding to know what happened.

My money is on 3:30p.m.

How could clients get the idea that their lawyer doesn’t care about them?

It’s 60 or so degrees outside. It’s glorious. Or so I’ve heard. The fact that I have not left the office since I got here 5 hours ago is not what I am writing about today. Nor the fact that today’s ‘must complete’ list has ballooned to over 20 items. This self-deprecating post surrounds one of my bigger cases.

Over the past several months I’ve met with the client multiple times, taken all of the depositions, drafted all of the motions, and genuinely worked hard for this client. Today’s discovery happened as I was finalizing the settlement. It turns out that in every document that I have drafted, filed, mailed or sent to anyone involved in the case, including the client, I have spelled both the client’s first and last names incorrectly.

I can’t really defend myself here, although it isn’t like his name is John Smith, but I figure that I can at least laugh at myself. Then apologize to the client.