This is it. The light at the end of the tunnel is blinding. The finish line looms large. The fat lady is doing her "mi-mi-mi"-style warm-ups.
The end of the month is here.
And with it, the end of NaNoWriMo 2011.
Thank Heavens.
This year was tough. Illness, financial concerns, stress at work, and Horde-related stuff all conspired against me. I think my LW gave in a couple weeks ago. Myself? I've been using every spare minute at home, work, and church jotting down thoughts and then transferring to digital media when I had the chance.
I am almost there. I mean it: as of this moment, I am 615 words away from 50K.
This one surely will not win any awards. I do not think it will ever see the light of day again. It is crap, filled with utter crap. It has every spare mental jot and written tittle that I could muster this past 28 days.
It may be bad, but it is done. Almost. "Will be done" is more accurate, I suppose. In the process, I have learned a lot about myself. I have learned that I have forgotten an awful lot about creative writing in the past eleven months. I have learned that Law School killed more of my imagination and creativity than I supposed, not to mention the actual practice of law and client-relations. I have also learned a lot about my own motivations, my own psyche, and my resilience. I have learned a lot about the weakness of the flesh, too, and how physical ailments can have such a drastic influence on the abilities and functions of one's mental -- and yes -- spiritual self.
In less than 36 hours, it will all be over. I will have won out.
And then I can rest easy for eleven months.
Showing posts with label the practice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the practice. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Crisis of Faith
A crisis of faith?
Perhaps that is the wrong description. Call it more of a crisis of belief? I am sure that I could come up with something more clever and apropos this morning, but I am simply not in the mood. I simply do not feel creative.
I have decided I am done with the practice of law.
Unfortunately, the existence of my LW and the Horde kind of make the practical desertion from the practice...um, unpracticable.
But my heart is no longer in it. At all.
It is not just the practice of consumer bankruptcy, although I think that has a lot to do with it. I have tried for years to salve my discontent with the answer that I am helping people, doing good for people's lives, and so forth. But I cannot use that excuse any longer.
There are just too many people that come in and want to abuse and play the system.
There are too many people who come in, after having dug themselves into an insurmountable hole, and then blame you for their trials and troubles.
There are too many people unwilling to take responsibility for their own actions.
There are too many people willing to lie to you, their attorney, simply because they think that it will turn out better for them in the end.
And there are just too few people willing to give a simple "thank you."
Not to mention the lousy pay.
Need I go on?
A friend proposed that what I am feeling is nothing more than a simple mid-life crisis. I do not believe that to be the case. I do not wish to buy a sports car, or a boat, or have an extramarital affair. I do not wish to go back to school, or open my own business, or take up sky diving, or any of the myriad of usual things men do when undergoing a mid-life crisis.
I simply want to take my LW and the Horde, load up the Ford, stock up the trailer, and drive off into the mountains. You know, find a little meadow somewhere and just BE.
I simply want to be left alone.
I want to not worry through the night about THAT client: the one who comes forward mid-case to give you a case-destroying piece of information that they "forgot"; the one that blames you for all of the post-filing pay-day loans she took out; the one who somehow sees it as your responsibility that they have not paid their mortgage(s) in seven months but could afford the trip to Disneyland; the one for whom the office buys a Thanksgiving dinner who later tells the Court she has no idea who you are.
The other day, I had a client thank me for helping themn get back on their feet, relieving their stress, getting them in a frame of mind where they could work and be productive again, and basically crediting me for all the recent good in their lives. It made me feel really good.
The warm fuzzies lasted about an hour.
Until another client called to accuse me of falsifying numbers in his case, numbers calculated by a formula that Congress, the Justice Department, the Courts, and the Chapter 13 Trustees have all developed and forced upon me. I did that; It's MY fault that she had overtime for the past two years and, despite that fact, the overtime is not guaranteed and somehow should not be calculated into her anticipated gross income.
For every one appreciative client, for every client whose life you actually touch for the better, for every client that understands that you are helping them out of a hole of (typically) their own creation, for every "good" client I am inundated with at least 99 more that are lying, unfeeling, uncaring, abusive cretins.
Oddly, it is not the confrontation with opposing attorneys; there is very little of that in our tiny little section of the Bar. It is the confrontation with our own clients that has driven me to detest the very practice of the Law, driven me to taste bile at the thought of my office, and to cause near-physical pain at the idea of getting up in the morning and facing the day.
It is a practice that drains your emotions, that drains your Spirituality, that drains your spirit, and that drains your love for practically anything else in your life.
It is a practice that wads up your creativity and tosses it in the toilet, that causes your Muse to turn her back on you in disgust, that causes food to taste like sawdust, music to sound like noise, and simple, peaceful quiet to become deafening.
It is a practice that causes you to vent your frustrations--at other drivers on the road, at your family, at your friends, and at your employees. It is a practice that literally made me weep as I drove to the office this morning.
Believe me, if there was anything else I could do that would provide sufficient financial support for my LW and the Horde, I would be there in a heartbeat. I probably would only stop to fill one box with possessions; the rest of my office space can just go hang. But I have to be an adult about this: someone once said that you are not supposed to enjoy what you do everyday--that is why it is called "work." Well, I do not enjoy what I do everyday; I cannot fool myself any longer.
I am done.
But I am still here.
Perhaps that is the wrong description. Call it more of a crisis of belief? I am sure that I could come up with something more clever and apropos this morning, but I am simply not in the mood. I simply do not feel creative.
I have decided I am done with the practice of law.
Unfortunately, the existence of my LW and the Horde kind of make the practical desertion from the practice...um, unpracticable.
But my heart is no longer in it. At all.
It is not just the practice of consumer bankruptcy, although I think that has a lot to do with it. I have tried for years to salve my discontent with the answer that I am helping people, doing good for people's lives, and so forth. But I cannot use that excuse any longer.
There are just too many people that come in and want to abuse and play the system.
There are too many people who come in, after having dug themselves into an insurmountable hole, and then blame you for their trials and troubles.
There are too many people unwilling to take responsibility for their own actions.
There are too many people willing to lie to you, their attorney, simply because they think that it will turn out better for them in the end.
And there are just too few people willing to give a simple "thank you."
Not to mention the lousy pay.
Need I go on?
A friend proposed that what I am feeling is nothing more than a simple mid-life crisis. I do not believe that to be the case. I do not wish to buy a sports car, or a boat, or have an extramarital affair. I do not wish to go back to school, or open my own business, or take up sky diving, or any of the myriad of usual things men do when undergoing a mid-life crisis.
I simply want to take my LW and the Horde, load up the Ford, stock up the trailer, and drive off into the mountains. You know, find a little meadow somewhere and just BE.
I simply want to be left alone.
I want to not worry through the night about THAT client: the one who comes forward mid-case to give you a case-destroying piece of information that they "forgot"; the one that blames you for all of the post-filing pay-day loans she took out; the one who somehow sees it as your responsibility that they have not paid their mortgage(s) in seven months but could afford the trip to Disneyland; the one for whom the office buys a Thanksgiving dinner who later tells the Court she has no idea who you are.
The other day, I had a client thank me for helping themn get back on their feet, relieving their stress, getting them in a frame of mind where they could work and be productive again, and basically crediting me for all the recent good in their lives. It made me feel really good.
The warm fuzzies lasted about an hour.
Until another client called to accuse me of falsifying numbers in his case, numbers calculated by a formula that Congress, the Justice Department, the Courts, and the Chapter 13 Trustees have all developed and forced upon me. I did that; It's MY fault that she had overtime for the past two years and, despite that fact, the overtime is not guaranteed and somehow should not be calculated into her anticipated gross income.
For every one appreciative client, for every client whose life you actually touch for the better, for every client that understands that you are helping them out of a hole of (typically) their own creation, for every "good" client I am inundated with at least 99 more that are lying, unfeeling, uncaring, abusive cretins.
Oddly, it is not the confrontation with opposing attorneys; there is very little of that in our tiny little section of the Bar. It is the confrontation with our own clients that has driven me to detest the very practice of the Law, driven me to taste bile at the thought of my office, and to cause near-physical pain at the idea of getting up in the morning and facing the day.
It is a practice that drains your emotions, that drains your Spirituality, that drains your spirit, and that drains your love for practically anything else in your life.
It is a practice that wads up your creativity and tosses it in the toilet, that causes your Muse to turn her back on you in disgust, that causes food to taste like sawdust, music to sound like noise, and simple, peaceful quiet to become deafening.
It is a practice that causes you to vent your frustrations--at other drivers on the road, at your family, at your friends, and at your employees. It is a practice that literally made me weep as I drove to the office this morning.
Believe me, if there was anything else I could do that would provide sufficient financial support for my LW and the Horde, I would be there in a heartbeat. I probably would only stop to fill one box with possessions; the rest of my office space can just go hang. But I have to be an adult about this: someone once said that you are not supposed to enjoy what you do everyday--that is why it is called "work." Well, I do not enjoy what I do everyday; I cannot fool myself any longer.
I am done.
But I am still here.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Bliss and Embarrassment
Embarrassment because it's been two months since my last post.
Unfortunately, my blogpression is even deeper than I feared and still has me tight in its grasp. I hardly ever even read my favorite blogs any longer. Would that make them my once-favorite blogs? Perhaps technically.
I just don't seem to have much joy anymore. Certainly no bliss.
Don't get me wrong: my LW and the Horde are a joy. Even the noise they make -- as hard as it is on my usually-aching head at the end of the day -- is music. They are my life and, honestly, the only thing that keeps me going some days.
All right, you caught me: most days.
I sat in my car this morning in the parking lot for several long minutes. All I could do was sit there, thinking, dreading the day. It took every ounce of physical strength and mental/emotional will power to leave the car and walk the fifteen steps into the building. Every minute today was torture. Not "Nancy Pelosi woe is me I voted for water-boarding before I voted against it even though it gets results and really is not considered torture compared to what the enemy does to our soldiers" kind of torture. More "being forced to listen to Nancy Pelosi read Maya Angelou poetry" kind of torture or "simply being forced to be in the same room as Nancy Pelosi" kind of torture.
And it is getting worse every day.
So back to my embarrassment: I hope that the readers I have will not have given up hope on me. I am trying; really, I am, despite all appearances.
I say I have little joy. That is not to say I do not have hope: I cannot blame my blogpression on the country's turbo-powered faster-than-light descent intoHell slavery economic destruction Socialism, even though it appears that the vast majority of those in Washington, D.C. -- on both sides of the aisle, mind you -- seem to be using Atlas Shrugged as a game plan for ruining running the country.
[Aside: if you don't understand what I mean, pick yourself up a copy and read it. It's not just fiction anymore. The book's sales have also, in the first four months of 2009, tripled the total sales in all of 2008.Sheep People are waking up out there. Get it. Read it. And ask: "Who is John Galt?"]
No, I am not without hope. Just last month, a Prophet of God, His representative on Earth, Thomas S. Monson, urged the world to be of good cheer and have joy, and to have faith, and to never, never despair.
OK, so, I've already admitted here that I am falling short on good cheer, joy, and despair. Oops.
But I do have faith. And hope. And a loving caring family.
I am striving -- truly I am -- for good cheer, joy, and to remove despair.
I am also striving for my bliss.
"Bliss" has been much on my mind for the past year or so; my buddy JR in Salt Lake has a 50-year-old cousin that I've met a couple times. This is a really down-to-earth man who gave up the practice of law 4 years ago when the bankruptcy laws were changing. He started working with mortgages and saw the writing on the wall LONG before most of the rest of us did. He then dabbled with other areas of the law for a couple of years.
Then, a year ago, he abruptly up and quit to focus on his photography. He's loved photography, as a hobby, since he was in his twenties. JR has sent me examples of his work -- absolutely terrific work. I particularly like his floral work. He did some Olympic photos from the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake that are stunning. One is a composite piece that I haven't seen anywhere else: it shows all the different photo-wrapped buildings, at night, all aglow, with fireworks in the background -- a seamless, amazing piece, even though there is no one spot in the Salt Lake Valley from where he could have taken one photo and show all the buildings.
But I digress.
This is what he does now. My buddy JR says that he's never been happier.
I truly envy him. I have gone to a couple of his shows, not just to give him moral support, not just to revel in the art, but also out of selfishness.
Yep. I think it is an act of selfishness, so that I can feed off that joy of his, to glimpse someone who is truly happy.
I truly cannot imagine anyone in this specialized field of bankruptcy work who is truly happy. No one I know gets any real joy out of it; oh, there are those who seem to enjoy it, but they're always so angry about something and are more confrontational than anything else. I cannot classify that as joy. Even those who are very good at it are certainly not happy or joyful.
Is this what adulthood means? I hope not.
Even when we help someone who truly needs our help, when we truly do Good, those feelings do not last long in the bruising, crushing, daily emotional miasma in which we bankruptcy attorneys live.
I know my friends in Salt Lake, JR and J, are not happy.
I know I'm not.
That's why I'm looking for my "bliss" whenever I have a chance.
I hope one day to find it and throw all this to the wind.
Or, barring that, to hire a junior attorney to do all the work while I manage the firm.
And still hunt for my bliss.
Unfortunately, my blogpression is even deeper than I feared and still has me tight in its grasp. I hardly ever even read my favorite blogs any longer. Would that make them my once-favorite blogs? Perhaps technically.
I just don't seem to have much joy anymore. Certainly no bliss.
Don't get me wrong: my LW and the Horde are a joy. Even the noise they make -- as hard as it is on my usually-aching head at the end of the day -- is music. They are my life and, honestly, the only thing that keeps me going some days.
All right, you caught me: most days.
I sat in my car this morning in the parking lot for several long minutes. All I could do was sit there, thinking, dreading the day. It took every ounce of physical strength and mental/emotional will power to leave the car and walk the fifteen steps into the building. Every minute today was torture. Not "Nancy Pelosi woe is me I voted for water-boarding before I voted against it even though it gets results and really is not considered torture compared to what the enemy does to our soldiers" kind of torture. More "being forced to listen to Nancy Pelosi read Maya Angelou poetry" kind of torture or "simply being forced to be in the same room as Nancy Pelosi" kind of torture.
And it is getting worse every day.
So back to my embarrassment: I hope that the readers I have will not have given up hope on me. I am trying; really, I am, despite all appearances.
I say I have little joy. That is not to say I do not have hope: I cannot blame my blogpression on the country's turbo-powered faster-than-light descent into
[Aside: if you don't understand what I mean, pick yourself up a copy and read it. It's not just fiction anymore. The book's sales have also, in the first four months of 2009, tripled the total sales in all of 2008.
No, I am not without hope. Just last month, a Prophet of God, His representative on Earth, Thomas S. Monson, urged the world to be of good cheer and have joy, and to have faith, and to never, never despair.
OK, so, I've already admitted here that I am falling short on good cheer, joy, and despair. Oops.
But I do have faith. And hope. And a loving caring family.
I am striving -- truly I am -- for good cheer, joy, and to remove despair.
I am also striving for my bliss.
"Bliss" has been much on my mind for the past year or so; my buddy JR in Salt Lake has a 50-year-old cousin that I've met a couple times. This is a really down-to-earth man who gave up the practice of law 4 years ago when the bankruptcy laws were changing. He started working with mortgages and saw the writing on the wall LONG before most of the rest of us did. He then dabbled with other areas of the law for a couple of years.
Then, a year ago, he abruptly up and quit to focus on his photography. He's loved photography, as a hobby, since he was in his twenties. JR has sent me examples of his work -- absolutely terrific work. I particularly like his floral work. He did some Olympic photos from the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake that are stunning. One is a composite piece that I haven't seen anywhere else: it shows all the different photo-wrapped buildings, at night, all aglow, with fireworks in the background -- a seamless, amazing piece, even though there is no one spot in the Salt Lake Valley from where he could have taken one photo and show all the buildings.
But I digress.
This is what he does now. My buddy JR says that he's never been happier.
I truly envy him. I have gone to a couple of his shows, not just to give him moral support, not just to revel in the art, but also out of selfishness.
Yep. I think it is an act of selfishness, so that I can feed off that joy of his, to glimpse someone who is truly happy.
I truly cannot imagine anyone in this specialized field of bankruptcy work who is truly happy. No one I know gets any real joy out of it; oh, there are those who seem to enjoy it, but they're always so angry about something and are more confrontational than anything else. I cannot classify that as joy. Even those who are very good at it are certainly not happy or joyful.
Is this what adulthood means? I hope not.
Even when we help someone who truly needs our help, when we truly do Good, those feelings do not last long in the bruising, crushing, daily emotional miasma in which we bankruptcy attorneys live.
I know my friends in Salt Lake, JR and J, are not happy.
I know I'm not.
That's why I'm looking for my "bliss" whenever I have a chance.
I hope one day to find it and throw all this to the wind.
Or, barring that, to hire a junior attorney to do all the work while I manage the firm.
And still hunt for my bliss.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Why we do it
OK. I'll admit that there are a lot of things wrong with the practice of law. There are also a lot of things wrong with representing consumers in Bankruptcy practice.
(smirk)Bet you're all surprised to hear me say that.(/smirk)
No, really. It is the absolute truth!
But I got a note from my buddy in Salt Lake this morning that made me shake my head. In a good way. All I could say as I shared it with some of the other employees of the firm was, "THIS is why we do it, day in and day out."
I will not go into the full story, but suffice it to say he had a client who was about to lose her house, sending herself and her three children out onto the streets two weeks before Christmas. The only thing that would save her was to receive a discharge from her Chapter 13 case.
She had gone through the wringer in 2007 and 2008; divorced, sole support of the family, left with HIS debts to pay off, children with serious chronic illnesses -- illnesses that affected her ability to work regular full-time hours, facing shut-off of gas and other utilities. She had received periodic help from family members in Mexico, who sent her what little they could scrape together to help her survive. She, admittedly and arguably, violated a court order by sending her tax refund this year back to her family members in Mexico who were now, themselves, in serious financial trouble.
The one high note? She scraped together everything she could so that she could receive her United States Citizenship. That, more than anything, convinced my buddy to really, really go to the mat for her. (That's what HE says. Actually, I believe that the thought of a homeless woman and her children at Christmas was what really affected his decision. The Citizenship efforts just pushed it over the edge.)
But this poor woman caught a little break: she was eligible to receive housing assistance, but the catch? She was only eligible if her Chapter 13 bankruptcy was completed.
The only way to complete the case was to keep making payments for a few more months (with money she no longer had) and to pay in her 2007 tax refunds (with money she no longer had). The only way out was to either convert her case to a Chapter 7 case (which would cost time and money she did not have) or to attempt what is called a "hardship discharge."
Simply put, this can be granted when certain conditions are met -- notably that the Debtor can no longer continue in the case because of circumstances beyond her control BUT that she is in all other respects eligible for a discharge. It is an extreme solution and, therefore, not attempted or granted very often.
But my buddy attempted it. He admits that he was not too optimistic, but he attempted it. There was little in the way of opposition to the motion; the Judge and Trustee, however, shared one concern: The use of the 2007 tax refunds in blatant violation of a prior court order.
My buddy says that he stood right up there, took several deep breaths while looking the judge in the eyes, and admitted to the Court that yes, while there was a violated order, there were good (read: humane) reasons for the violation and that in all other respects, she qualified for a hardship discharge. And then he sat down.
The Trustee's attorney then stood and essentially agreed with him, that taken as a whole, this woman deserved to get the help she had requested.
The judge looked at them both and asked, "You mean, you want me to re-write the bankruptcy code to make it 'fair'?" My buddy just smiled at the judge and the Trustee's attorney back-pedaled. The judge smiled back and said, "Well, I've done it before; Motion granted."
My buddy tells me it felt like he had been kicked in the chest; he could hardly breathe. He says that prior to the hearing his client had asked what the magic words were; he told her "Motion granted. If we hear that, we're good." He says he heard her gasp when the judge ruled. By the time they reached the hallway, his client was sobbing in joy, grabbed him in a bear hug, and thanked him for the Christmas present. She called his office afterwards to thank him again.
The joy that woman felt? I have seen it a few times in my own clients. I know exactly what my buddy was feeling.
It is the feeling you get when an elderly woman thanks you for saving her house from foreclosure saying, "This was the first house my husband and I lived in. It's where he died, and where I want to go to sleep for the last time. You saved it for me."
It is the feeling you get when a client drops to his knees in your office and repeats "God bless you. Jesus bless you." Over and over.
It is the feeling you get when a client calls you after a hearing and says she is grateful for your help "against a corrupt society." Who assures you that you are helping people whose lives hang in the balance, and that while the services you provide are often taken for granted, she does not take you for granted.
It does not happen very often, not in Bankruptcy, not in Litigation, not even in Criminal law. Not as often as it should, in my opinion, but them I admit to a certain bias.
It does not happen very often, but it does happen, and you begin to understand a little of King Benjamin's admonition from the Book of Mormon: "And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." Mosiah 2:17.
Due to the nature of the Practice, it does not happen often, but when it does?
It makes a lot of the other crap seem almost worth it.
(smirk)Bet you're all surprised to hear me say that.(/smirk)
No, really. It is the absolute truth!
But I got a note from my buddy in Salt Lake this morning that made me shake my head. In a good way. All I could say as I shared it with some of the other employees of the firm was, "THIS is why we do it, day in and day out."
I will not go into the full story, but suffice it to say he had a client who was about to lose her house, sending herself and her three children out onto the streets two weeks before Christmas. The only thing that would save her was to receive a discharge from her Chapter 13 case.
She had gone through the wringer in 2007 and 2008; divorced, sole support of the family, left with HIS debts to pay off, children with serious chronic illnesses -- illnesses that affected her ability to work regular full-time hours, facing shut-off of gas and other utilities. She had received periodic help from family members in Mexico, who sent her what little they could scrape together to help her survive. She, admittedly and arguably, violated a court order by sending her tax refund this year back to her family members in Mexico who were now, themselves, in serious financial trouble.
The one high note? She scraped together everything she could so that she could receive her United States Citizenship. That, more than anything, convinced my buddy to really, really go to the mat for her. (That's what HE says. Actually, I believe that the thought of a homeless woman and her children at Christmas was what really affected his decision. The Citizenship efforts just pushed it over the edge.)
But this poor woman caught a little break: she was eligible to receive housing assistance, but the catch? She was only eligible if her Chapter 13 bankruptcy was completed.
The only way to complete the case was to keep making payments for a few more months (with money she no longer had) and to pay in her 2007 tax refunds (with money she no longer had). The only way out was to either convert her case to a Chapter 7 case (which would cost time and money she did not have) or to attempt what is called a "hardship discharge."
Simply put, this can be granted when certain conditions are met -- notably that the Debtor can no longer continue in the case because of circumstances beyond her control BUT that she is in all other respects eligible for a discharge. It is an extreme solution and, therefore, not attempted or granted very often.
But my buddy attempted it. He admits that he was not too optimistic, but he attempted it. There was little in the way of opposition to the motion; the Judge and Trustee, however, shared one concern: The use of the 2007 tax refunds in blatant violation of a prior court order.
My buddy says that he stood right up there, took several deep breaths while looking the judge in the eyes, and admitted to the Court that yes, while there was a violated order, there were good (read: humane) reasons for the violation and that in all other respects, she qualified for a hardship discharge. And then he sat down.
The Trustee's attorney then stood and essentially agreed with him, that taken as a whole, this woman deserved to get the help she had requested.
The judge looked at them both and asked, "You mean, you want me to re-write the bankruptcy code to make it 'fair'?" My buddy just smiled at the judge and the Trustee's attorney back-pedaled. The judge smiled back and said, "Well, I've done it before; Motion granted."
My buddy tells me it felt like he had been kicked in the chest; he could hardly breathe. He says that prior to the hearing his client had asked what the magic words were; he told her "Motion granted. If we hear that, we're good." He says he heard her gasp when the judge ruled. By the time they reached the hallway, his client was sobbing in joy, grabbed him in a bear hug, and thanked him for the Christmas present. She called his office afterwards to thank him again.
The joy that woman felt? I have seen it a few times in my own clients. I know exactly what my buddy was feeling.
It is the feeling you get when an elderly woman thanks you for saving her house from foreclosure saying, "This was the first house my husband and I lived in. It's where he died, and where I want to go to sleep for the last time. You saved it for me."
It is the feeling you get when a client drops to his knees in your office and repeats "God bless you. Jesus bless you." Over and over.
It is the feeling you get when a client calls you after a hearing and says she is grateful for your help "against a corrupt society." Who assures you that you are helping people whose lives hang in the balance, and that while the services you provide are often taken for granted, she does not take you for granted.
It does not happen very often, not in Bankruptcy, not in Litigation, not even in Criminal law. Not as often as it should, in my opinion, but them I admit to a certain bias.
It does not happen very often, but it does happen, and you begin to understand a little of King Benjamin's admonition from the Book of Mormon: "And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." Mosiah 2:17.
Due to the nature of the Practice, it does not happen often, but when it does?
It makes a lot of the other crap seem almost worth it.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
NaNoWriMo 2008 - Update 2
Well, never let it be said that life cannot or will not intervene. I knew that November was going to be bad: busy bad, hectic bad, crazed bad. Here I am not even one-half way through and life has intervened whenever possible.
And my NaNoWriMo work is suffering for it.
As of bedtime last night (12:45 a.m. to be exact) I now find myself 7,716 words off-pace.
That's right. Just over four-and-one-half days behind (4.63--again, to be exact).
Life conspires to intervene. I thought I had planned well enough this year, even considering everything else going on in my life.
This is called, so I am told, "Adulthood."
Somehow, though, sitting at a desk wrangling legal issues through my brain all day makes me sufficiently tired and brain-deadened that when I arrive home I want nothing to do with the evil laptop sitting before me.
That's right. Evil.
EEEEEEE-vil. As in the froo-its of the Devil. (Thank you, Mike Myers.)
The blinking cursor mocks me.
The television goes on; I surf through ten channels of broadcast television. Nothing on. I surf through them again. And again. And again.
That's when my LW, who is also WriMo-ing, screams in frustration and tells me to turn off the television and write. She wants to inspire me, you know.
Of course, she's also 4,417 words ahead of me.
I try to read. Nothing satisfies; neither the sci-fi nor the fantasy novels on my nightstand interest me. The same with the biography. Ditto the history book. I even try the Scriptures...and find myself wondering how I could use some of the things I am reading and translate them into my novel.
That's not the best way to read the Scriptures, by the way. It is also not the best way or most conducive way to get anything out of them, learn from them, or feel the Spirit, necessarily.
That's when I start drinking: Soda, cola, water, lemonade, milk. Things of that nature. A few potato chips or peanuts to keep awake. Ultimately, I drag myself off to bed having written nothing.
Then there's the self-imposed guilt the next day. I think, "Where in my day could I steal an hour to pound out 1,000 words or so?" I feel guilty doing any work, thinking about how I could put that time to use on my NaNoWriMo word count.
Heck. I feel guilty even while writing this blog.
But life happens. Unfortunately, and despite our best laid plans. (Again, see "adulthood".)
(Now.... If I postponed two client meetings today until tomorrow, that's two hours I could have, all to myself....) Ahem. [cough cough]
UPDATE:
By the way, am I the only one that remembers the movie from which I borrowed the above picture? If anyone else can come up with the name of the movie, I would sincerely love to know about it, especially if you have actually seen the movie in question.
I think I am the only one of my friends that ever saw it, let alone enjoyed it. Talk about a movie geek. Sheesh.
Anyway, let me know if you know.
--Now back to working on mynovel pleading.
UPDATE #2:
This is, by the way, 560 words that could have gone toward my NaNoWriMo. NOW who feels guilty, Hmmm?
Yep. Exactly.That's what I thought.
No one but me.
And my NaNoWriMo work is suffering for it.
As of bedtime last night (12:45 a.m. to be exact) I now find myself 7,716 words off-pace.
That's right. Just over four-and-one-half days behind (4.63--again, to be exact).
Life conspires to intervene. I thought I had planned well enough this year, even considering everything else going on in my life.
This is called, so I am told, "Adulthood."
Somehow, though, sitting at a desk wrangling legal issues through my brain all day makes me sufficiently tired and brain-deadened that when I arrive home I want nothing to do with the evil laptop sitting before me.
That's right. Evil.
EEEEEEE-vil. As in the froo-its of the Devil. (Thank you, Mike Myers.)
The blinking cursor mocks me.
The television goes on; I surf through ten channels of broadcast television. Nothing on. I surf through them again. And again. And again.
That's when my LW, who is also WriMo-ing, screams in frustration and tells me to turn off the television and write. She wants to inspire me, you know.
Of course, she's also 4,417 words ahead of me.
I try to read. Nothing satisfies; neither the sci-fi nor the fantasy novels on my nightstand interest me. The same with the biography. Ditto the history book. I even try the Scriptures...and find myself wondering how I could use some of the things I am reading and translate them into my novel.
That's not the best way to read the Scriptures, by the way. It is also not the best way or most conducive way to get anything out of them, learn from them, or feel the Spirit, necessarily.
That's when I start drinking: Soda, cola, water, lemonade, milk. Things of that nature. A few potato chips or peanuts to keep awake. Ultimately, I drag myself off to bed having written nothing.
Then there's the self-imposed guilt the next day. I think, "Where in my day could I steal an hour to pound out 1,000 words or so?" I feel guilty doing any work, thinking about how I could put that time to use on my NaNoWriMo word count.
Heck. I feel guilty even while writing this blog.
But life happens. Unfortunately, and despite our best laid plans. (Again, see "adulthood".)
(Now.... If I postponed two client meetings today until tomorrow, that's two hours I could have, all to myself....) Ahem. [cough cough]
UPDATE:
By the way, am I the only one that remembers the movie from which I borrowed the above picture? If anyone else can come up with the name of the movie, I would sincerely love to know about it, especially if you have actually seen the movie in question.
I think I am the only one of my friends that ever saw it, let alone enjoyed it. Talk about a movie geek. Sheesh.
Anyway, let me know if you know.
--Now back to working on my
UPDATE #2:
This is, by the way, 560 words that could have gone toward my NaNoWriMo. NOW who feels guilty, Hmmm?
Yep. Exactly.That's what I thought.
No one but me.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Life
Gentle reader,
Life, I'm afraid, has taken control of my, well, life for this week.
My workload has doubled this past fortnight because of the economy, and because of an employee that just cannot seem to get well.
So, despite the fact that I have four to six really good topics to mine for blog entries, and despite the fact that these ideas are bouncing around the inside of my head until I am nearly crazy, it appears that between life and my Church calling, it may be several more days before I can return to my blogging duties.
They are great topics, believe me. Some secular, some religious. Some hysterical. Some thoughtful.
Please do not desert me. You may surf to another channel, but please surf on back. I will be back VERY soon, I promise. Very soon. Just as soon as I have time.
It may even be tomorrow.
We'll see. Just keep checking back.
( Now....all I have to do is remember my ideas that long. Where's a Post-it Note?)
Life, I'm afraid, has taken control of my, well, life for this week.
My workload has doubled this past fortnight because of the economy, and because of an employee that just cannot seem to get well.
So, despite the fact that I have four to six really good topics to mine for blog entries, and despite the fact that these ideas are bouncing around the inside of my head until I am nearly crazy, it appears that between life and my Church calling, it may be several more days before I can return to my blogging duties.
They are great topics, believe me. Some secular, some religious. Some hysterical. Some thoughtful.
Please do not desert me. You may surf to another channel, but please surf on back. I will be back VERY soon, I promise. Very soon. Just as soon as I have time.
It may even be tomorrow.
We'll see. Just keep checking back.
( Now....all I have to do is remember my ideas that long. Where's a Post-it Note?)
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Naturally Blonde
I must say ahead of time that I am sorry if I offend any blondes or blonde-related readers today. But this must be shared.
From FoxNews.com: Judge Tosses Hair Dye Lawsuit for Blonde Who Had Less Fun as Brunette
I will admit that I do not have much experience with hair dyes, but c'mon ladies, help me out here.... It grows out, does it not? Hair dye ain't permanent, is it? I mean, that's what keeps L'Oreal in business, right? Repeat customers?
OK, sure.... It may take a while to grow out...but was it really L'Oreal's decision that Ms. Feeney stay home? Really?
It's a good thing that Mr. Laudano declined to comment. He should be ashamed of even filing the stupid case.
I'm hoping it's just because he's blonde too.
What does this say about my profession? What does this say about our society? What, she couldn't read the label where it said "Brown" not "Blonde" before applying the dye? Really? or is it just a case of everyone trying to hit the Lawsuit Lottery?
Bankruptcy attorneys are not generally well-thought of among attorneys; our clients are not flashy or wealthy and we usually don't get rich from the practice. But we all console ourselves with one thing:
We're not personal injury/tort lawyers.
UPDATE:
Apparently her blonde brother sells cars. Also from FoxNews: Woman, 90, Dies After Crashing New Sports Car
But the salesman.... He must have been blonde.
I don't want to think there are people that greedy, that desperate to make a commission.
Think about it. Did he not have a moral obligation to say, "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but isn't this big muscle car just maybe a bit too much car for you? We have this nice little car over here, although it costs much less."
He sold a 90-year-old woman a dang muscle car. A $23,000 muscle car.
That's not to say that he should be sued, or found liable in any way in her death. Please, you should know me better than that by now. She was an adult; I'm guessing her son went with her as well. He too is an adult. They made the choice.Do not pick up the phone to call David Laudano about this case. The salesman was not complicit in her death.
But he may just have been a bit blonde.
From FoxNews.com: Judge Tosses Hair Dye Lawsuit for Blonde Who Had Less Fun as Brunette
BRIDGEPORT, Conn. — A judge has brushed off a Connecticut woman's claim that L'Oreal Inc. ruined her social life when she accidentally dyed her hair brunette with one of its products.OK. Is it just me, or does this woman truly, truly epitomize blondeness? (Blondinity? Blondification?)
Charlotte Feeney of Stratford said she can never return to her natural blonde hue, a shock that left her so traumatized she needed anti-depressants.
She says she suffered headaches and anxiety, missed the attention that blondes receive and had to stay home and wear hats most of the time.
A Superior Court judge dismissed Feeney's 2005 lawsuit Monday, saying she never proved her allegation that L'Oreal put brown hair dye in a box labeled as blonde. The company also had disputed the claim.
Feeney's attorney, David Laudano, declined to comment and she could not be reached after the judge's decision.
I will admit that I do not have much experience with hair dyes, but c'mon ladies, help me out here.... It grows out, does it not? Hair dye ain't permanent, is it? I mean, that's what keeps L'Oreal in business, right? Repeat customers?
OK, sure.... It may take a while to grow out...but was it really L'Oreal's decision that Ms. Feeney stay home? Really?
It's a good thing that Mr. Laudano declined to comment. He should be ashamed of even filing the stupid case.
I'm hoping it's just because he's blonde too.
What does this say about my profession? What does this say about our society? What, she couldn't read the label where it said "Brown" not "Blonde" before applying the dye? Really? or is it just a case of everyone trying to hit the Lawsuit Lottery?
Bankruptcy attorneys are not generally well-thought of among attorneys; our clients are not flashy or wealthy and we usually don't get rich from the practice. But we all console ourselves with one thing:
We're not personal injury/tort lawyers.
UPDATE:
Apparently her blonde brother sells cars. Also from FoxNews: Woman, 90, Dies After Crashing New Sports Car
POMPANO BEACH, Fla. — A 90-year-old woman was killed when she lost control of her new sports car and slammed into a pole, authorities said.I have more sense, tact, taste, and pathos than to say anything ill against the dead. I truly feel for this poor woman; my own grandfather mistook the gas for the brake on several occasions, one of which cost my family a garage door. So I feel for this woman and her family.
State motor vehicle records show that Maria Brunetti, of Pompano Beach, got the 2009 Dodge Challenger Friday on her birthday. A Broward Sheriff's spokesman said the car's odometer only showed 151 miles.
Detectives believe that Brunetti lost control Sunday when she accelerated instead of braking while trying to make a turn. The car hit a concrete pole and caught fire with Brunetti and her son, 47-year-old Peter Brunetti, trapped inside.
Witnesses pulled the them from the burning car, and fire-rescue took them to the hospital. The woman was pronounced dead a short time later, and her son was in serious condition.
But the salesman.... He must have been blonde.
I don't want to think there are people that greedy, that desperate to make a commission.
Think about it. Did he not have a moral obligation to say, "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but isn't this big muscle car just maybe a bit too much car for you? We have this nice little car over here, although it costs much less."
He sold a 90-year-old woman a dang muscle car. A $23,000 muscle car.
That's not to say that he should be sued, or found liable in any way in her death. Please, you should know me better than that by now. She was an adult; I'm guessing her son went with her as well. He too is an adult. They made the choice.Do not pick up the phone to call David Laudano about this case. The salesman was not complicit in her death.
But he may just have been a bit blonde.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Jotting Tittles
Just about every blogger I know has "Random Thoughts" now and then. Today I dip my foot in the Pool of Perambulating Posts and meander through a morass of miscellany. These thoughts may not have anything to do with one another, or may be connected on some subconscious level. We will just have to wait and see what comes out, I suppose. Who knows, they could even lead to longer posts. I just have a bunch of stuff rattling around in my head this morning.
First: A shout-out to the woman I passed at the bus stop this morning while I was walking to work. She was nicely dressed and professional looking, so I do not believe she was one of the many homeless people that congregate around the local mission in the mornings. She was just standing, waiting for the bus; as I approached her, she threw up her arms and sang out, "Holy! Holy! Holy!" and began to sing some Gospel music as I passed her and continued down the street. I could hear her for almost the next two blocks. What a completely unexpected, but certainly positive and uplifting way to start your day. Thank you, ma'am.
Second: I noticed on the news that John McCain made a promise during Debate #2 last night, a promise to have the Federal Reserve buy up all the so-called "bad loans" and to renegotiate the terms so that people can afford to pay their mortgages. I have heard a lot of this the past few months since the housing market really started to tank; people on both sides of the political aisle calling for mercy for those who "got roped" into "bad loans" and were "taken advantage of" because they "did not know what they were doing." Now, I certainly appreciate and agree that there are many of those people out there; I see plenty of examples every day. However, there were a lot of gamblers and risk-takers that certainly knew exactly what they were doing. Oddly enough, the politicians calling for "mercy" for these poor citizens were the same politicians that, three years ago, refused to acknowledge that mercy was necessary for the "poor people" who were "suckered" into credit card use who "did not know what they were doing." These are the same people who refused to listen to calls for mercy whilemeddling with castrating criminalizing destroying amending the Bankruptcy Code. Hmmm. Mercy for abused home-buyers, no mercy for abusive credit card users. Anyone know what the difference is between 2005 and 2008? Anyone? Beuller? Beuller? That's right, 2008 is an election year. I checked last night: McCain voted for the Bankruptcty reform bill; Obama voted against it.
Third: A very conservative friend of mine--let's call him "Bob"--was talking with me and others the other day. As we talked, our discussion turned to politics. Unfortunately. This very conservative friend--Bob--voiced his stance: "I'm voting for Obama. No question in my mind." As we all knew his typically-conservative stance on life, we were all taken aback. Bob said, "I just think he's the candidate that can 'bring us all together.'" {Aside: This one is definitely a post topic of its own.} As another of my friends began to badger Bob, Bob merely shook his head and said, "Don't bother me with facts; I already know who I'm voting for." I became frightened. Now: I have not yet made up my own mind as to who will be receiving my vote, although I do know at least one person that will NOT receiving my vote, and while I have strong feelings about Senator Obama, that was not the source of my fright." Don't bother me with facts." Ugh. The very thought that people can and do exercise their right to vote without wanting to know any facts about the candidate, the issues, etc.... THAT frightens me. Sure, you have the right to do so, but the rest of us have to suffer for your stubborn stupidity! Ahem. Sorry. Lost control there for a minute. In all truthfulness, I really do not care whether you vote for Obama, McCain, or Joseph Stalin for President, so long as you do informed while you do it. This is not March Madness, where you can pick a team based on its school colors or the designs of the uniforms. Just get informed. Please.
Fourth: I found out this morning that, for the first time, this blog came up in a Google search for... well, what can only be described as "bviously puerile and titillating information." I shuddered. Actually, I may have thrown up in my mouth a little bit. Yeah. There's a milestone.
First: A shout-out to the woman I passed at the bus stop this morning while I was walking to work. She was nicely dressed and professional looking, so I do not believe she was one of the many homeless people that congregate around the local mission in the mornings. She was just standing, waiting for the bus; as I approached her, she threw up her arms and sang out, "Holy! Holy! Holy!" and began to sing some Gospel music as I passed her and continued down the street. I could hear her for almost the next two blocks. What a completely unexpected, but certainly positive and uplifting way to start your day. Thank you, ma'am.
Second: I noticed on the news that John McCain made a promise during Debate #2 last night, a promise to have the Federal Reserve buy up all the so-called "bad loans" and to renegotiate the terms so that people can afford to pay their mortgages. I have heard a lot of this the past few months since the housing market really started to tank; people on both sides of the political aisle calling for mercy for those who "got roped" into "bad loans" and were "taken advantage of" because they "did not know what they were doing." Now, I certainly appreciate and agree that there are many of those people out there; I see plenty of examples every day. However, there were a lot of gamblers and risk-takers that certainly knew exactly what they were doing. Oddly enough, the politicians calling for "mercy" for these poor citizens were the same politicians that, three years ago, refused to acknowledge that mercy was necessary for the "poor people" who were "suckered" into credit card use who "did not know what they were doing." These are the same people who refused to listen to calls for mercy while
Third: A very conservative friend of mine--let's call him "Bob"--was talking with me and others the other day. As we talked, our discussion turned to politics. Unfortunately. This very conservative friend--Bob--voiced his stance: "I'm voting for Obama. No question in my mind." As we all knew his typically-conservative stance on life, we were all taken aback. Bob said, "I just think he's the candidate that can 'bring us all together.'" {Aside: This one is definitely a post topic of its own.} As another of my friends began to badger Bob, Bob merely shook his head and said, "Don't bother me with facts; I already know who I'm voting for." I became frightened. Now: I have not yet made up my own mind as to who will be receiving my vote, although I do know at least one person that will NOT receiving my vote, and while I have strong feelings about Senator Obama, that was not the source of my fright." Don't bother me with facts." Ugh. The very thought that people can and do exercise their right to vote without wanting to know any facts about the candidate, the issues, etc.... THAT frightens me. Sure, you have the right to do so, but the rest of us have to suffer for your stubborn stupidity! Ahem. Sorry. Lost control there for a minute. In all truthfulness, I really do not care whether you vote for Obama, McCain, or Joseph Stalin for President, so long as you do informed while you do it. This is not March Madness, where you can pick a team based on its school colors or the designs of the uniforms. Just get informed. Please.
Fourth: I found out this morning that, for the first time, this blog came up in a Google search for... well, what can only be described as "bviously puerile and titillating information." I shuddered. Actually, I may have thrown up in my mouth a little bit. Yeah. There's a milestone.
UPDATE: And then I go and name today's post what I did. The first one was an accident; now I am just looking for trouble, aren't I? Well, maybe someone will look at one of my blogposts instead of their naughty pictures and I will have done someone some good today.
Fifth: Not to sound too goulish, but I have to express a little bit of gratitude for the economic downturn. I truly feel sorry for those who are suffering, particularly those who are completely innocent in the fate in which they find themselves. That being said, I have been nice and busy for the past three weeks at the office. "Frantic" may be a better word. Maybe now is the time to find out just how much the Boss values me. Heh. If only he was in town.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Kind of like playing "House" but not really.
Sometimes I feel like I am just playing at being an attorney.
I am feeling that way today. Right now, as a matter of fact.
I really hope that I am not alone in this feeling. Play-acting grown-uppery, that is.
Forgive me for my exercise in affixation, but I do not know how else to describe it. "Grown-uppery." "Adultitude."
It is kind of like playing "House" but not really.
Now, I have to be careful and differentiate here: I do not mean "House" as in "House, M.D."--I am not talking about "playing Doctor" or something like that. {Aside: Ewww. I cannot even imagine the images that "playing Lawyer" would conjure. I am shuddering just saying the words.}
It's a feeling that you are just a small child sitting at your father's desk. You can almost imagine that your feet are not touching the floor and you can feel the desk edge pressing into your upper chest--you can almost rest your chin on the desk. It's a feeling that you are signing random pieces of paper instead of important letters and documents.
It's a feeling that you could pick up the phone and spend time giggling with one of your friends about how you are sitting at daddy's desk and he is letting you play "office" and touch all of his work stuff.
It's a feeling that you should be doing something constructive, like linking all of your paperclips into one long chain and then feeding them back into your magnetized paperclip holder. You know the drill: it's the office version of unscrewing the salt shaker lid.
It's a feeling that you are playing dress-up and walking into court to babble made-up words into the microphone, making things up as you go along. Oh wait, that one really is what lawyering is all about.
It's a feeling that you are so far out of your depth that someone, somewhere, will surely notice that you haven't the vaguest idea of what you are doing.
It's a feeling that someone, sometime soon, is going to come busting through your office door, point at you, and screech like Donald Sutherland.
It can be a very surreal feeling, much as if you were a pod person, a different intelligence--a naive intelligence--looking out of another person's eyes, an adult's eyes. You are someone different, just going through the motions and hoping that someone--a co-worker or a boss does not pierce your masquerade and see through your harlequin mask. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE," they would squeal.
That's how I feel today.
I wonder if my colleagues ever feel that way.
Heck, I wonder if my LW ever feels that way.
I can almost feel the phone book on which I am metaphorically sitting even as we speak.
I am struggling to decide what causes this feeling. Is it, as I fear, a coping mechanism? a way to handle an inordinant amount of stress? Or is it a self-esteem issue? Or, even worse, is it true that I genuinely do not know what I am doing?
On that note, I think I will have to lock the door and hidein my fort under my desk.
Watch for the boss, won't you?
I am feeling that way today. Right now, as a matter of fact.
I really hope that I am not alone in this feeling. Play-acting grown-uppery, that is.
Forgive me for my exercise in affixation, but I do not know how else to describe it. "Grown-uppery." "Adultitude."
It is kind of like playing "House" but not really.
Now, I have to be careful and differentiate here: I do not mean "House" as in "House, M.D."--I am not talking about "playing Doctor" or something like that. {Aside: Ewww. I cannot even imagine the images that "playing Lawyer" would conjure. I am shuddering just saying the words.}
It's a feeling that you are just a small child sitting at your father's desk. You can almost imagine that your feet are not touching the floor and you can feel the desk edge pressing into your upper chest--you can almost rest your chin on the desk. It's a feeling that you are signing random pieces of paper instead of important letters and documents.
It's a feeling that you could pick up the phone and spend time giggling with one of your friends about how you are sitting at daddy's desk and he is letting you play "office" and touch all of his work stuff.
It's a feeling that you should be doing something constructive, like linking all of your paperclips into one long chain and then feeding them back into your magnetized paperclip holder. You know the drill: it's the office version of unscrewing the salt shaker lid.
It's a feeling that you are playing dress-up and walking into court to babble made-up words into the microphone, making things up as you go along. Oh wait, that one really is what lawyering is all about.
It's a feeling that you are so far out of your depth that someone, somewhere, will surely notice that you haven't the vaguest idea of what you are doing.
It's a feeling that someone, sometime soon, is going to come busting through your office door, point at you, and screech like Donald Sutherland.
It can be a very surreal feeling, much as if you were a pod person, a different intelligence--a naive intelligence--looking out of another person's eyes, an adult's eyes. You are someone different, just going through the motions and hoping that someone--a co-worker or a boss does not pierce your masquerade and see through your harlequin mask. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE," they would squeal.That's how I feel today.
I wonder if my colleagues ever feel that way.
Heck, I wonder if my LW ever feels that way.
I can almost feel the phone book on which I am metaphorically sitting even as we speak.
I am struggling to decide what causes this feeling. Is it, as I fear, a coping mechanism? a way to handle an inordinant amount of stress? Or is it a self-esteem issue? Or, even worse, is it true that I genuinely do not know what I am doing?
On that note, I think I will have to lock the door and hide
Watch for the boss, won't you?
Monday, July 28, 2008
For the thousandth time.....
So I was at a Creditor's Meeting today.
Aside: for the uninitiated, when you file a bankruptcy you must attend a hearing to which all your creditors are invited to attend and ask random questions or generally vent their spleen at you. Oh yes, the Trustee overseeing your case is also there to grill you and your attorney about minutiae and miscellaneous errors. Except very few creditors come.
I use the same spiel with every client at these hearings. I have my own little set script that tells them all the things I want them to know and the things that they are not to do, et cetera. One of the things I tell them is that while they are in their Chapter 13 bankruptcy, they are not to buy anything (particularly big ticket items), they are not to sell anything, and they are not to take out any new loans. Any of these type of transactions require court permission, which can be very difficult to obtain in some circumstances.
Pretty clear to understand, right?
So, after delivering this information, one of my clients says: "I have a big Dodge pickup and I really don't like the mileage it gets and I would really like to trade it in and get a new car that gets better gas mileage because in this economy I really can't afford to drive the big truck and everyone is selling off their big trucks and getting rid of their SUVs and pickups because they can't afford the gas."
OK. This wasn't exactly what he said, but a more grammatically-correct translation of what he said. But the feeling is there.
I literally believe my mouth dropped open. Physically. I'm really pretty sure it did. At least, it took me several seconds to form a response to him.
What came out was this:
Ummmm. No. You CANNOT do that. You would be breaking the law three times if you did that. Three times. That would be Federal Law. FEDERAL. First, you would break the law by trading in the truck--you would essentially be selling that car and as I just said you cannot do that without court permission. Second, you would break the law by agreeing to purchase a new car and as I just said you cannot do that without court permission. Third, you would break the law by taking out a new loan to purchase the new car and as I just said you cannot do that without court permission. You cannot do this. Period. If you want to get rid of the truck, now is the time to tell me and we'll give it back through the bankruptcy and then you can buy a beater for $250. But no, you cannot trade in the truck, you cannot buy a new car, and you cannot take out a loan on a new car.
His response: "Well, I don't want to get rid of it because I need transportation. I just can't afford to put gas in it. So it just sits. That's why I was asking. And everyone I know is getting rid of their trucks. So that's why. But I don't want to give it up."
I need transportation but cannot put gas in it but I don't want to give it up.
I wanted to yell at him to just give up the car and go buy an engine on wheels with the $250 he was going to save putting gas in his truck this month.
I really wanted to say that.
I SO wanted to.
But in the interest of good client relations, all I said was: "Hmm.... Well, just remember what I told you." All while shaking my head.
I'm still shaking it, but not in disagreement...
...but disbelief.
Aside: for the uninitiated, when you file a bankruptcy you must attend a hearing to which all your creditors are invited to attend and ask random questions or generally vent their spleen at you. Oh yes, the Trustee overseeing your case is also there to grill you and your attorney about minutiae and miscellaneous errors. Except very few creditors come.
I use the same spiel with every client at these hearings. I have my own little set script that tells them all the things I want them to know and the things that they are not to do, et cetera. One of the things I tell them is that while they are in their Chapter 13 bankruptcy, they are not to buy anything (particularly big ticket items), they are not to sell anything, and they are not to take out any new loans. Any of these type of transactions require court permission, which can be very difficult to obtain in some circumstances.
Pretty clear to understand, right?
So, after delivering this information, one of my clients says: "I have a big Dodge pickup and I really don't like the mileage it gets and I would really like to trade it in and get a new car that gets better gas mileage because in this economy I really can't afford to drive the big truck and everyone is selling off their big trucks and getting rid of their SUVs and pickups because they can't afford the gas."
OK. This wasn't exactly what he said, but a more grammatically-correct translation of what he said. But the feeling is there.
I literally believe my mouth dropped open. Physically. I'm really pretty sure it did. At least, it took me several seconds to form a response to him.
What came out was this:
Ummmm. No. You CANNOT do that. You would be breaking the law three times if you did that. Three times. That would be Federal Law. FEDERAL. First, you would break the law by trading in the truck--you would essentially be selling that car and as I just said you cannot do that without court permission. Second, you would break the law by agreeing to purchase a new car and as I just said you cannot do that without court permission. Third, you would break the law by taking out a new loan to purchase the new car and as I just said you cannot do that without court permission. You cannot do this. Period. If you want to get rid of the truck, now is the time to tell me and we'll give it back through the bankruptcy and then you can buy a beater for $250. But no, you cannot trade in the truck, you cannot buy a new car, and you cannot take out a loan on a new car.
His response: "Well, I don't want to get rid of it because I need transportation. I just can't afford to put gas in it. So it just sits. That's why I was asking. And everyone I know is getting rid of their trucks. So that's why. But I don't want to give it up."
I need transportation but cannot put gas in it but I don't want to give it up.
I wanted to yell at him to just give up the car and go buy an engine on wheels with the $250 he was going to save putting gas in his truck this month.
I really wanted to say that.
I SO wanted to.
But in the interest of good client relations, all I said was: "Hmm.... Well, just remember what I told you." All while shaking my head.
I'm still shaking it, but not in disagreement...
...but disbelief.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Want Ads, anyone?
I almost quit my job last week.
I still might do it today.
Not to blow my own horn, but I do a great deal to keep this firm running, at least the bankruptcy side of it. If I walked out the door, the people in my department here would not know what to do. I do all the bankruptcy case review, all the bankruptcy hearings, all the negotiations with creditors, opposing counsel, trustees, and the court. I am the one that has re-built the firm's rapport with creditors, opposing counsel, trustees, and the court. I am the one that keeps up-to-date on recent bankruptcy law. They would be left with no-one to practice bankruptcy law.
Well, they would be left with the Big Boss and my senior counsel. . . but . . . .
You see, my supervising attorney apparently really has no interest any more in practicing the law, but he delights in rubbing his so-called "opponents" noses in it when they're "wrong."
We came to verbal blows last week over a Motion he wanted me to file. I told him he was wrong. He refused to admit it, because it made opposing counsel look bad. I told him it would damage the good rapport we had with that attorney and his office. He did not seem to care. I told him that it was an inadvertent mistake by someone who happens to be a friend. He told me that it was my friendship coloring the issue, not his glee at proving an "enemy" wrong.
Then another employee--holier-than-thou, self-important--jumps into the mix. Explains to me the damage that has been done to the client by the "evil" attorney.(Oh, all right, he didn't actually say "evil" but you could almost see it in his eyes.) How the client's "entitled" to get the relief that my boss wants to get from the court.
Never mind that, so far as I can tell, there is no provision for such relief in the law.
Never mind that it was an inadvertent mistake by opposing counsel's office and that the situation was covered in disclaimers that my office-mates and supervising attorney won't admit to seeing.
Never mind that he's wrong.
Now I have to argue something that I have NO belief in and that I think is reprehensible. It could cost, potentially, someone their job. I argued for 24 hours to take a different course of action. I re-wrote his motion six times, only to have him put it back in front of me for signing with only minor, insubstantial changes.
Oh yeah, he's forcing me to sign it, because he does not sign anything around here any more. Little does the boss know.
So I am going to suffer the wrath of opposing counsel.
And probably the judge.
Not that it was anything illegal or necessarily improper. Just something that goes against everything I believe in where the practice of law is concerned.
Well.
I'm just about done.
I've been stabbed in the back one too many times since the start of December 2006. I've had too much passive-agressive lecturing given to me. I've had too much mothering and monitoring of my work.
I've had too much implied insult towards --and quiet aggravation with-- my belief that family comes before all this crap.
This may have been the final straw.
If I did not have the Horde and my LW to support and feed, I would have thrown the motion back in his face that day.
But I didn't.
And now I've gone along with something I don't believe in because there was a pay check at risk.
I realize now what that makes me.
And it ain't a pretty realization.
I still might do it today.
Not to blow my own horn, but I do a great deal to keep this firm running, at least the bankruptcy side of it. If I walked out the door, the people in my department here would not know what to do. I do all the bankruptcy case review, all the bankruptcy hearings, all the negotiations with creditors, opposing counsel, trustees, and the court. I am the one that has re-built the firm's rapport with creditors, opposing counsel, trustees, and the court. I am the one that keeps up-to-date on recent bankruptcy law. They would be left with no-one to practice bankruptcy law.
Well, they would be left with the Big Boss and my senior counsel. . . but . . . .
You see, my supervising attorney apparently really has no interest any more in practicing the law, but he delights in rubbing his so-called "opponents" noses in it when they're "wrong."
We came to verbal blows last week over a Motion he wanted me to file. I told him he was wrong. He refused to admit it, because it made opposing counsel look bad. I told him it would damage the good rapport we had with that attorney and his office. He did not seem to care. I told him that it was an inadvertent mistake by someone who happens to be a friend. He told me that it was my friendship coloring the issue, not his glee at proving an "enemy" wrong.
Then another employee--holier-than-thou, self-important--jumps into the mix. Explains to me the damage that has been done to the client by the "evil" attorney.(Oh, all right, he didn't actually say "evil" but you could almost see it in his eyes.) How the client's "entitled" to get the relief that my boss wants to get from the court.
Never mind that, so far as I can tell, there is no provision for such relief in the law.
Never mind that it was an inadvertent mistake by opposing counsel's office and that the situation was covered in disclaimers that my office-mates and supervising attorney won't admit to seeing.
Never mind that he's wrong.
Now I have to argue something that I have NO belief in and that I think is reprehensible. It could cost, potentially, someone their job. I argued for 24 hours to take a different course of action. I re-wrote his motion six times, only to have him put it back in front of me for signing with only minor, insubstantial changes.
Oh yeah, he's forcing me to sign it, because he does not sign anything around here any more. Little does the boss know.
So I am going to suffer the wrath of opposing counsel.
And probably the judge.
Not that it was anything illegal or necessarily improper. Just something that goes against everything I believe in where the practice of law is concerned.
Well.
I'm just about done.
I've been stabbed in the back one too many times since the start of December 2006. I've had too much passive-agressive lecturing given to me. I've had too much mothering and monitoring of my work.
I've had too much implied insult towards --and quiet aggravation with-- my belief that family comes before all this crap.
This may have been the final straw.
If I did not have the Horde and my LW to support and feed, I would have thrown the motion back in his face that day.
But I didn't.
And now I've gone along with something I don't believe in because there was a pay check at risk.
I realize now what that makes me.
And it ain't a pretty realization.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Stupid can be clients, too!
So.
Some years ago, back in the early days of my bankruptcy practice, (late-90s?) I have a client show up first thing one morning with some documents in hand. I didn't think anything about it, because we had a hearing later that morning. Note that his attendance at this hearing was mandatory; if he missed it, his case would be dismissed.
About an hour later, I wandered out past reception and noticed that he was sitting in the waiting room, reading a magazine. About twenty minutes after that, he appears at my office door (apparently the receptionist left her desk for a moment) asking if I remembered who he was and if I was going to the hearing this morning, or if he was on his own.
As much as I was tempted to tell him he was on his own, I restrained--and told him I'd be leaving for court in just a few minutes. He then proceeded to ask me question after question about the documents he was asked to bring to the hearing. Question after question. He tried to go over the documents with me, for which I didn't have time, and I told him to just take them to the hearing and to go ahead and leave for court. He finally took my advice and left for court.
Oh yeah...turns out he'd told the receptionist that he was waiting for me and had simply sat in the waiting room for over an hour. But, as Ron Popeil says, that's not all!
When I finally got my files together and made it to the hearing, I was fifteen minutes behind him. He was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. Now, I should explain in advance that this hearing room is on the second floor of the court building. The hearing room is also clearly marked. The elevators dominate the building lobby.
So I waited. And waited. And waited. Still no client.
The hearing had started and they were ready to call his case when he came running down the hall, huffing and puffing. I grabbed his documents from him, turned them in, he answered a couple quick questions, and we left. When I got back out into the hall, he explained that he had locked himself in the stairwell.
For over twenty minutes.
Fifteen of those minutes were spent hammering on the door and yelling for help. Some kind gentleman finally heard him and let him through.
He locked himself in the stairwell for twenty minutes and almost missed a crucial hearing.
Now, I can understand that most of the doors in the stairway are locked from the office side for security reasons. They are, after all, security doors in a "secure" public building. But I'm also pretty sure that fire code regulations would require the first floor door--leading into the lobby--remain unlocked and accessible from either side.
He locked himself in the stairwell for twenty minutes, screaming and knocking, and almost missed a crucial hearing when the door several floors was unlocked and open.
He locked himself in the stairwell for twenty minutes with an open door three floors below him. That's like claiming to have locked yourself in a convertible with the top down.
(We won't get into the fact that the receptionist LET him sit for an hour without telling me he was there allegedly waiting for me. That's another rant for another day.)
I'm guessing that someday, if I remain practicing long enough, I WILL meet a client who HAS locked themselves in a convertible with the top down.
Then I will have seen everything.
Some years ago, back in the early days of my bankruptcy practice, (late-90s?) I have a client show up first thing one morning with some documents in hand. I didn't think anything about it, because we had a hearing later that morning. Note that his attendance at this hearing was mandatory; if he missed it, his case would be dismissed.
About an hour later, I wandered out past reception and noticed that he was sitting in the waiting room, reading a magazine. About twenty minutes after that, he appears at my office door (apparently the receptionist left her desk for a moment) asking if I remembered who he was and if I was going to the hearing this morning, or if he was on his own.
As much as I was tempted to tell him he was on his own, I restrained--and told him I'd be leaving for court in just a few minutes. He then proceeded to ask me question after question about the documents he was asked to bring to the hearing. Question after question. He tried to go over the documents with me, for which I didn't have time, and I told him to just take them to the hearing and to go ahead and leave for court. He finally took my advice and left for court.
Oh yeah...turns out he'd told the receptionist that he was waiting for me and had simply sat in the waiting room for over an hour. But, as Ron Popeil says, that's not all!
When I finally got my files together and made it to the hearing, I was fifteen minutes behind him. He was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. Now, I should explain in advance that this hearing room is on the second floor of the court building. The hearing room is also clearly marked. The elevators dominate the building lobby.
So I waited. And waited. And waited. Still no client.
The hearing had started and they were ready to call his case when he came running down the hall, huffing and puffing. I grabbed his documents from him, turned them in, he answered a couple quick questions, and we left. When I got back out into the hall, he explained that he had locked himself in the stairwell.
For over twenty minutes.
Fifteen of those minutes were spent hammering on the door and yelling for help. Some kind gentleman finally heard him and let him through.
He locked himself in the stairwell for twenty minutes and almost missed a crucial hearing.
Now, I can understand that most of the doors in the stairway are locked from the office side for security reasons. They are, after all, security doors in a "secure" public building. But I'm also pretty sure that fire code regulations would require the first floor door--leading into the lobby--remain unlocked and accessible from either side.
He locked himself in the stairwell for twenty minutes, screaming and knocking, and almost missed a crucial hearing when the door several floors was unlocked and open.
He locked himself in the stairwell for twenty minutes with an open door three floors below him. That's like claiming to have locked yourself in a convertible with the top down.
(We won't get into the fact that the receptionist LET him sit for an hour without telling me he was there allegedly waiting for me. That's another rant for another day.)
I'm guessing that someday, if I remain practicing long enough, I WILL meet a client who HAS locked themselves in a convertible with the top down.
Then I will have seen everything.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
If the Shoe Fits....
What is it with our modern culture and ill-fitting clothing?
I'm not just talking about the ill-advised use of spandex on the larger people among us... I'm talking about the poor attire choices of so many people you see around you, be they svelte and fit or "less-than-such."
I crossed state lines and headed to the big city last week and had the chance to ride some late-night mass transit. My word.... Ten years ago, you would have had to go to Los Angeles or Las Vegas to see so much flesh. And, as we've already discussed, it's not always pleasant flesh.
(OK. I'm going to catch a lot of grief for that phrase... "pleasant flesh". I'm guessing the LW is going to need more than flowers for Valentine's to make up for that remark.)
I also see it in my clients all the time. We've had the "dancer" who appeared in bankruptcy court in a spaghetti strap crop-top; granted, it was covered (mostly) by a blazer.... But the blazer did nothing for the denim "Daisy Dukes" she was wearing. I've had an anorexic teenage guy with an oversize tank top, with more tattoos than flesh. Of course, you have the ubiquitous thong sightings (which raises the question: how do they make those little strings SO strong to fit some of these men and women? (Yes. I did say "men." That, my friends, is a sight sufficient to bring last Thanksgiving's dinner back up the pipes.)
I've seen it in other attorneys' clients, too. Like the woman wearing a tube top (also under a blazer, for what good it did) whose...umm...breasts Northern Assets had a more-than-passing acquaintance with her waist. Or the girls with hip-hugging pajama bottoms. Guys in sweat pants.
I guess I should be glad it's NOT just me.
But today there was a sighting of perhaps the worst of all.
Yes.
There was a sighting of what a friend of mine terms "Hairy Belt Cleavage."
....
....
For the uninitiated, "belt cleavage" is often seen when a plumber is hard at work.
Add in copious amounts of (horrifyingly enough, apparently GROOMED) back hair on the lower back and beyond, and .... Well, you get the picture.
Oh! For a government job where you don't get these people in your office ... and if you have to work with them, it's only in passing for a brief moment.
We're talking three to five years at least of this client. Would it be crass or unprofessional to grab him by the shoulders and shake him while screaming, "Pull your shirt down, man! Wear a longer shirt! Throw the hip-huggers away! For all that is good and Holy in this world, PLEASE COVER UP!"
Would that be soooooo wrong? It's something to ponder, certainly. A possible solution.
So...why am I telling you all of this?
Misery loves company. Plain and simple.
...and maybe by sharing, I can get a little bit of the picture out of MY head.
I'm not just talking about the ill-advised use of spandex on the larger people among us... I'm talking about the poor attire choices of so many people you see around you, be they svelte and fit or "less-than-such."
I crossed state lines and headed to the big city last week and had the chance to ride some late-night mass transit. My word.... Ten years ago, you would have had to go to Los Angeles or Las Vegas to see so much flesh. And, as we've already discussed, it's not always pleasant flesh.
(OK. I'm going to catch a lot of grief for that phrase... "pleasant flesh". I'm guessing the LW is going to need more than flowers for Valentine's to make up for that remark.)
I also see it in my clients all the time. We've had the "dancer" who appeared in bankruptcy court in a spaghetti strap crop-top; granted, it was covered (mostly) by a blazer.... But the blazer did nothing for the denim "Daisy Dukes" she was wearing. I've had an anorexic teenage guy with an oversize tank top, with more tattoos than flesh. Of course, you have the ubiquitous thong sightings (which raises the question: how do they make those little strings SO strong to fit some of these men and women? (Yes. I did say "men." That, my friends, is a sight sufficient to bring last Thanksgiving's dinner back up the pipes.)
I've seen it in other attorneys' clients, too. Like the woman wearing a tube top (also under a blazer, for what good it did) whose...umm...
I guess I should be glad it's NOT just me.
But today there was a sighting of perhaps the worst of all.
Yes.
There was a sighting of what a friend of mine terms "Hairy Belt Cleavage."
....
....
For the uninitiated, "belt cleavage" is often seen when a plumber is hard at work.
Add in copious amounts of (horrifyingly enough, apparently GROOMED) back hair on the lower back and beyond, and .... Well, you get the picture.
Oh! For a government job where you don't get these people in your office ... and if you have to work with them, it's only in passing for a brief moment.
We're talking three to five years at least of this client. Would it be crass or unprofessional to grab him by the shoulders and shake him while screaming, "Pull your shirt down, man! Wear a longer shirt! Throw the hip-huggers away! For all that is good and Holy in this world, PLEASE COVER UP!"
Would that be soooooo wrong? It's something to ponder, certainly. A possible solution.
So...why am I telling you all of this?
Misery loves company. Plain and simple.
...and maybe by sharing, I can get a little bit of the picture out of MY head.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
How to End a Career
I often ponder the prospect of someday quitting the practice of law. Any more, it's not a career path I wish to be on in twenty years.
Heck...I don't "wish" to be on the path tomorrow.
But I digress.
When I consider quitting the practice, of course the first thought is always: How do you expect to support your family? Nice trap you've fallen into, Iggy.
Yes. Sometimes when I'm alone I call myself Iggy.
But again: digression.
When I consider quitting the practice, the SECOND thought is often: What spectacular thing can I do on my last day in the practice that will leave my mark in the minds and hearts of my colleagues and live in court-lore forever?
Over the past fourteen years or so, many MANY ideas have crossed my mind...most of them drop-dead hilarious and many of them questionably legal/ethical. (Hence why they would be done on my LAST day of practice. See?) But no matter how good they have been,
this story today (courtesy of foxnews.com) just gave me what may be the #1 on my list...
I must confess, though. As I write this, I'm thinking of some REALLY good "departure" ideas that are coming back to my mind; ones I just cannot bring myself to share (again, legality and ethics).
This one is definitely in the top five, however.
Just imagine... standing and saying, "Excuse me, Your Honor" and then dissolving into a screaming tirade, waving your arms and invoking God...causing the Federal Court security officers to rush and restrain you? Priceless....
OK.
Maybe top three.
Heck...I don't "wish" to be on the path tomorrow.
But I digress.
When I consider quitting the practice, of course the first thought is always: How do you expect to support your family? Nice trap you've fallen into, Iggy.
Yes. Sometimes when I'm alone I call myself Iggy.
But again: digression.
When I consider quitting the practice, the SECOND thought is often: What spectacular thing can I do on my last day in the practice that will leave my mark in the minds and hearts of my colleagues and live in court-lore forever?
Over the past fourteen years or so, many MANY ideas have crossed my mind...most of them drop-dead hilarious and many of them questionably legal/ethical. (Hence why they would be done on my LAST day of practice. See?) But no matter how good they have been,
this story today (courtesy of foxnews.com) just gave me what may be the #1 on my list...
An Air Canada flight en route from Toronto to London had to make an emergency landing after its co-pilot apparently suffered a nervous breakdown, according to the Daily Mail.
The Boeing 767 was flying at 37,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean when the unidentified co-pilot began shouting and "invoking God" and had to be restrained, the Daily Mail reported.
Crew members and a passenger, who happened to be in the armed forces, held down the man, shackling his wrists and ankles and tying him to a seat.
The flight made an emergency landing in Shannon, Ireland, and the co-pilot was taken off the plane crying and yelling, according to the Daily Mail.
He was being treated at a psychiatric ward for what was believed to be a nervous breakdown.
I must confess, though. As I write this, I'm thinking of some REALLY good "departure" ideas that are coming back to my mind; ones I just cannot bring myself to share (again, legality and ethics).
This one is definitely in the top five, however.
Just imagine... standing and saying, "Excuse me, Your Honor" and then dissolving into a screaming tirade, waving your arms and invoking God...causing the Federal Court security officers to rush and restrain you? Priceless....
OK.
Maybe top three.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
It can't ALL be stress and anxiety....
I fully understand and appreciate that clients get nervous and uptight where court hearins are concerned. Anxiety over their case can certainly translate into a state approaching genetic stupidity.
I can buy that.
But c'mon.
Some people are just plain stupid.
Evidence: I sat in court today and watched an attorney argue for confirmation of his clients' Chapter 13 case. (For the uninitiated: The confirmation hearing is a hearing that takes place to give all sides a place to "air grievances" and to allow the Judge to rule on these issues. It is the time/place where the Judge puts the final stamp of approval on the Chapter 13 case so that it can go forward.)
So, as I said, I'm sitting watching this attorney argue with the Chapter 13 Trustee's attorney and a creditor's attorney over different issues. Other attorneys in the courtroom are all checking their watches, as we all have better places to be.
Finally, these issues are all resolved and the Judge asks one further question. The attorney asks for a moment to consult with his client.
And thus it begins.
He talks.
And talks.
And talks some more.
The Judge takes this opportunity to blow his nose.
And still they're talking.
Finally, after what must have been over five minutes, the attorney steps back to the microphone and after apologizing to the Court for the time spent, says that in the interest of judicial economy, he has to alert the Court that his clients just can't make the case work and are going to allow the case to dismiss. The Judge complies and dismisses the case.
Here's what happened: Apparently the debtors owed nearly $20,000 in mortgage arrears. Their Chapter 13 Plan indicated they were going to let the house go to the bank. This Plan was filed in November 2007. Apparently, the husband and wife don't ever discuss their individual intentions regarding the house. Now, sitting at the table in court, the wife says, "Yes, we're going to let the house go," while the husbands says, "WHAT?! I'm not giving up my house." The attorney eventually says, "Fine...you don't want to give up the house, and these arrears make your plan infeasibile, so you're OK with dismissing the case?" and the debtors agree.
Cut to the hallway outside the courtroom.
The debtors proceed to take the attorney apart because "they only had thirty seconds" in which to make this important decision.
Never mind they've had two full months.
Never mind that they were the ones that fell behind on their mortgage in the first place.
Never mind that they were the ones that couldn't decide on a unified intention.
It's all the attorney's fault.
Let the castigation begin!
The finger-pointing went on for at least ten minutes until the wife stormed from the courthouse in tears.
And all the attorney could do was sit there and wonder WHY he ever went to law school.
That, incidentally, is the same question I ask myself at least four times a week.
I can buy that.
But c'mon.
Some people are just plain stupid.
Evidence: I sat in court today and watched an attorney argue for confirmation of his clients' Chapter 13 case. (For the uninitiated: The confirmation hearing is a hearing that takes place to give all sides a place to "air grievances" and to allow the Judge to rule on these issues. It is the time/place where the Judge puts the final stamp of approval on the Chapter 13 case so that it can go forward.)
So, as I said, I'm sitting watching this attorney argue with the Chapter 13 Trustee's attorney and a creditor's attorney over different issues. Other attorneys in the courtroom are all checking their watches, as we all have better places to be.
Finally, these issues are all resolved and the Judge asks one further question. The attorney asks for a moment to consult with his client.
And thus it begins.
He talks.
And talks.
And talks some more.
The Judge takes this opportunity to blow his nose.
And still they're talking.
Finally, after what must have been over five minutes, the attorney steps back to the microphone and after apologizing to the Court for the time spent, says that in the interest of judicial economy, he has to alert the Court that his clients just can't make the case work and are going to allow the case to dismiss. The Judge complies and dismisses the case.
Here's what happened: Apparently the debtors owed nearly $20,000 in mortgage arrears. Their Chapter 13 Plan indicated they were going to let the house go to the bank. This Plan was filed in November 2007. Apparently, the husband and wife don't ever discuss their individual intentions regarding the house. Now, sitting at the table in court, the wife says, "Yes, we're going to let the house go," while the husbands says, "WHAT?! I'm not giving up my house." The attorney eventually says, "Fine...you don't want to give up the house, and these arrears make your plan infeasibile, so you're OK with dismissing the case?" and the debtors agree.
Cut to the hallway outside the courtroom.
The debtors proceed to take the attorney apart because "they only had thirty seconds" in which to make this important decision.
Never mind they've had two full months.
Never mind that they were the ones that fell behind on their mortgage in the first place.
Never mind that they were the ones that couldn't decide on a unified intention.
It's all the attorney's fault.
Let the castigation begin!
The finger-pointing went on for at least ten minutes until the wife stormed from the courthouse in tears.
And all the attorney could do was sit there and wonder WHY he ever went to law school.
That, incidentally, is the same question I ask myself at least four times a week.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Who's responsible?
Today I had what I wish was a unique experience, but is all too common in the practice of law.
My "favorite" member of the federal judiciary decided to deny two of my motions. Now, that's not too surprising, considering I advised both of these clients two months ago that it was a lost cause to bring the motions. They both persisted, however, in wanting their chance to have the judge tell them they were up in the night.
So against my advice, they directed me to file these motions--nearly identical motions that were, coincidentally, heard by the same judge on the same calendar.
Just my luck.
For the past two months, I repeatedly warned them of the very real possibility of failure. They claimed to understand and accept the fact. As we walked into the courtroom this morning, I warned them both AGAIN.
What happened? The judge denied the motions (!!Surprise!!) and I faced two weeping, sobbing, angry clients in the hallway wanting to know what happened, why they lost, what to do next, and "I thought you promised we'd be O.K."
These are the things for which law school WILL NOT prepare you.
Can I at least say, "I told you so"?
My "favorite" member of the federal judiciary decided to deny two of my motions. Now, that's not too surprising, considering I advised both of these clients two months ago that it was a lost cause to bring the motions. They both persisted, however, in wanting their chance to have the judge tell them they were up in the night.
So against my advice, they directed me to file these motions--nearly identical motions that were, coincidentally, heard by the same judge on the same calendar.
Just my luck.
For the past two months, I repeatedly warned them of the very real possibility of failure. They claimed to understand and accept the fact. As we walked into the courtroom this morning, I warned them both AGAIN.
What happened? The judge denied the motions (!!Surprise!!) and I faced two weeping, sobbing, angry clients in the hallway wanting to know what happened, why they lost, what to do next, and "I thought you promised we'd be O.K."
These are the things for which law school WILL NOT prepare you.
Can I at least say, "I told you so"?
Monday, January 30, 2006
Precedent Misrepresented
So I was cleaning out my day planner this morning and came across a newspaper clipping I received from my brother back when I was a first-year law student. I don't know exactly to whom attribution is owing; I believe it was a filler blurb in the Salt Lake Tribune back in the early '90s.
So I started wondering today: If they had Perry Mason, whom do I have to blame? "Law & Order" hadn't yet arrived on the scene (but only barely). The answer is easy: "L.A. Law" and Ben Matlock.
That's right . . . I said Ben Matlock. Rumpled-up baby blue suit and all.
So . . . . How do I go about suing good ol' Jimmy Smits, Corbin Bernsen, or Andy Griffith for Fraudulent Misrepresentation of the Practice of Law? Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress?
Someone's gotta pay for this misery.
And I'm scared to think it may be my fault.
Setting a Precedent: The reason we have so many lawyers in America has nothing to do with young professionals seeking prestige, wealth and influence. It has to do with us Baby Boomers watching all those lawyer shows when we were kids in the '50s--
"Perry Mason," "The Defenders," "Burke's Law."
After an evening of watching Raymond Burr bash the bad guys, we all wanted to study law.
So I started wondering today: If they had Perry Mason, whom do I have to blame? "Law & Order" hadn't yet arrived on the scene (but only barely). The answer is easy: "L.A. Law" and Ben Matlock.
That's right . . . I said Ben Matlock. Rumpled-up baby blue suit and all.
So . . . . How do I go about suing good ol' Jimmy Smits, Corbin Bernsen, or Andy Griffith for Fraudulent Misrepresentation of the Practice of Law? Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress?
Someone's gotta pay for this misery.
And I'm scared to think it may be my fault.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Gentleman's Bar
Not likely. Not anymore, at least.
I received notice today that a client had retained another attorney to vacate an order of dismissal in their bankruptcy case. Their case had been dismissed because they alleged to me that they were current in their Chapter 13 payments, but they could never--or would never--turnover any proof of payments. I, therefore, could not provide proof to the Trustee. We had a hearing date set, but nothing came of it because of lack of proof.
My clients never said a word until their case had been dismissed nearly a month.
Then they pitched a tantrum...and then admitted it was their fault. They said they'd get back to us.
So the Motion to Vacate filed today? The other attorney lays all the blame directly on my shoulders.
It wouldn't bother me, except for the following:
I received notice today that a client had retained another attorney to vacate an order of dismissal in their bankruptcy case. Their case had been dismissed because they alleged to me that they were current in their Chapter 13 payments, but they could never--or would never--turnover any proof of payments. I, therefore, could not provide proof to the Trustee. We had a hearing date set, but nothing came of it because of lack of proof.
My clients never said a word until their case had been dismissed nearly a month.
Then they pitched a tantrum...and then admitted it was their fault. They said they'd get back to us.
So the Motion to Vacate filed today? The other attorney lays all the blame directly on my shoulders.
It wouldn't bother me, except for the following:
- It didn't happen this way. (When it's my fault, I'll admit it to the judge.)
- I wouldn't have done it this way, and neither would 90% of the rest of the local bankruptcy bar. (We would have called the prior attorney, or at least taken the clients' story with a grain of salt--we hear "my former attorney did this or that" all the time. ALL THE TIME...and it means nothing at all.)
- Now I have my own motion being heard on the same calendar. (Yeah...couldn't bother to help THOSE clients...but I'm willing to help THESE clients. This ought to be fun!)
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Morons are clients too!
Sometimes I think that the practice of law would be truly enjoyable if it wasn't for clients.
I have reached my daily limit: I am fed up with the utter lack of perception, common sense, and personal responsibility I see so often in my practice. How many people can honestly be confused about the idea that you cannot stay in a home when you're behind on mortgage payments? or the idea that their creditors are actually entitled, believe it or not, to receive some renumeration? Or even the idea that MY time and services are actually worth something? Sometimes, it is utterly unbelievable and it is always frustrating.
Maybe I should go sell pencils on the corner. Some days it would be much more fulfilling.
At least I'd be getting some sun....
I have reached my daily limit: I am fed up with the utter lack of perception, common sense, and personal responsibility I see so often in my practice. How many people can honestly be confused about the idea that you cannot stay in a home when you're behind on mortgage payments? or the idea that their creditors are actually entitled, believe it or not, to receive some renumeration? Or even the idea that MY time and services are actually worth something? Sometimes, it is utterly unbelievable and it is always frustrating.
Maybe I should go sell pencils on the corner. Some days it would be much more fulfilling.
At least I'd be getting some sun....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)