You know the cool thing about my job? I get to know people. I get to know people pretty damn well. Look, when you’ve sat in my conference room crying because your vindictive ex is low-key blackmailing you with pictures of you in frilly pink panties and an oversized lollipop (not that there’s anything wrong with that shit), we have a bond. That burly biker or truck driver who, to the rest of the world is a real man’s man, can feel cool to break down in front of their lawyer because they know that I can’t say shit, and because they know that my job is to help them. It’s neat to get to know my clients on a level that they only reveal to their priest and their bartender.
This means that for a lot of my clients who are actual people, they view me as some strange mixture between legal counsel and a damn good friend, and it isn’t uncommon for my clients to just drop by or call to see how I’m doing. Be it the retired NYPD detective who called my house (despite not ever having been given my home number) while I was laid up to see if he could swing by and do anything, the older couple that I helped two years ago who came by my hospital room with a huge homecooked meal for my family, or, my personal favorite, the Gypsy King and his wife who not only bring me chocolate and little treats randomly, but send a hell of a lot of business my way.
Continue reading “The Rom Baro and Me: Be Good to Your Clients”
Like we talked about on Monday, I went to Anthrocon last week to be amongst the furries. Having arrived on Friday night with no particular plan in place for how things were going to go, Captain Eyebrows and myself found ourselves plied with booze and top hats, directed around a convention center with rooms that double as airplane hangers, and spoken to at length about things that could be expected to happen over the next two days by staff members who, essentially, control the infrastructure of North America. Then we returned to the hotel late at night to get a little bit of rest for what was surely a full day.
So, I mean, since this is going to be a long one, let’s just get right into it.
Continue reading “A Fully Functioning Furry Fiefdom: Anthrocon, Part 2”
I want to preface this whole thing by explaining something about attorneys in general: we like to think a little experience goes a long way. A lawyer with no experience in a particular area of law, but a willingness to learn it, will take a small case in that area. We’ll do all the research and learning to be barely competent, and going forward we’re confident that we now know that area of law. “Yes,” we’ll confidently tell people that ask us, “I’ve handled those cases before! I know what to expect!”
It was in this spirit that I went to FurtheMore back in April. Everyone had told me Anthrocon was essentially the fucking Super Bowl of furries, and it may be good for me to at least go to a couple exhibition games in advance. So, when FurtheMore made the offer to show a lawyer around their fandom, I accepted and had a great time! So I was confident. I had been to a furry convention. I knew what to expect. I was ready.
…I was not ready.
I was amazingly not-fucking-ready.
Oh my god was I not ready.
I was so not ready that, guys, no shit…I’m gonna have to talk about Anthrocon in two fucking posts this week, with Film Friday (an exploration of lawyers in the media) being my review of Brian Cuban’s new book on addiction and the legal profession.
Which essentially means I’ll be posting about two days of drinking with giant animal people, then spend a day talking about the crippling addiction issues faced by my colleagues.
Continue reading “A Fully Functioning Furry Fiefdom: Anthrocon, Part 1.”
So yesterday was a snow day for me, which meant I got to sit at my kitchen table and review my case files over and over again, churning out the billables in the comfort of my home and a pair of fleece pajamas with fucking labs on them. It was pleasant. I enjoyed it.
As part of reviewing my case files, though, I also ended up reviewing some discovery production that was going out soon, an electronic copy of which I’d uploaded to a secured cloud server so I can be a redacting fool from anywhere in the world. Most lawyers hate going through discovery production to the opposing party, and I’ll admit it’s a pretty big pain in the ass. It takes forever and can suck away entire days. Hell, that’s why big firms hire doc reviewers and first year associates to sit around and do nothing but obsess over what’s in each and every document.
Me, however? I like to do it all myself when possible, because what you produce in discovery to an opposing party can seriously fuck your case up, and I’m the type of guy who, at the end of the day, believes the buck stops with me and nobody else. I learned this from my boss, who from day one has made it very clear that on each and every one of his cases, the buck stops with me and nobody else.
So let’s talk about that, how trusting your case to someone else can seriously fuck you over and why it may be worth your time to go through the documents your own goddamn self.
I’m gonna tell you fucktards a story to illustrate my point today, so gather round children.
Continue reading “Waiving Privilege: A Discovery War Story”
So not too long ago I blasted a guy for making a post about a fucking parrot. The post called out another attorney for possibly copying a tweet regarding a parrot in a divorce, it got thousands of views, and got me labeled as the “parrot post” guy. Hell, it got mentioned in an online blog ran by People magazine. A fucking parrot.
Ever notice how sometimes cases and legal issues in various matters, all of which are unrelated, become similar? Not too long ago I was retained to sue a titty bar. Since then, I’ve had a number of cases come in where I’m suing titty bars, all different cases. Likewise, a while back I got one case against a car dealership, then while it was pending got like three more. None of these people knew each other. I have no idea how it happens, but it’s a truth: For some reason certain types of cases seem to come in clumps.
Which, of course, means that a parrot became the central issue in an estate I handled recently…and then I started getting a variety of pet-related matters. Determining the ownership of thirty cats. Figuring out which neighbor’s dog was destroying prize-winning roses. Etc etc etc.
Because, given my history with the species, of fucking course it would be a goddamn parrot that started the multiple rush of pet cases I’m currently handling.
Continue reading “The Estate, The Widow, and a Used Parrot: A War Story”