WTF, Client?!?

So it’s WTF Wednesday. And have I got a WTF of awesome proportions for you.

A med-mal case came in a couple of weeks ago. The facts of it are similar to one that was settled by another firm we work with on occasion for tens of millions of dollars. As a result, my boss has dollar signs in his eyes and is following this one like you wouldn’t believe. The injured party is currently existing in a persistent vegetative state. So his older sister is acting as ward. We got her emergency guardianship, applied to get her appointed as long-term guardian, got her bonded, the whole deal. It’s been a pain. She’s always late and terminally forgetful. So I will make an appointment with her to sign paperwork that is time-sensitive and absolutely necessary and she will flake on the appointment completely. It’s been a battle to get this case probated and ready to be able to collect records, to say the least.

Over the course of filling out this paperwork, there are several places that ask if our prospective guardian has been convicted of a crime or served jail time. Several. this is important.

I finally got everything filed last week. Got the emergency guardianship. Got the hearing scheduled for the long-term guardianship. Everybody breathe.

And then? I get a message from the probate court this morning. Evidently our guardian was convicted of voluntary manslaughter and served over ten years in prison. Which she forgot to mention while filling out all the paperwork and the at least five times I asked her that same question. Which means she cannot serve as guardian. And there are no other living relatives. None. Not a distant cousin, not a half-uncle. No one.

My boss is going to go completely apeshit bananas over this one.

WTF, Wednesday?!?

I have noticed that I am… oh, let’s say less than consistent with updating this blog. I say “less than consistent” because it sounds nicer than “lazy-ass” and doesn’t make me feel as bad. There are a couple-few reasons for my marked lack of consistent posting:

1. I actually work for a pretty good firm, so the ridiculous moments don’t happen as often as they probably could.

2. Being stupid, crazy, insane busy does not lend itself well to blogging.

3. I am, in fact, a lazy ass. I have a membership card and everything.

So. What to do about that? I suppose I could try to make more crazy things happen at work, but somehow I think that may actually make my life more difficult, so that’s out. In a stroke of genius (genius being code for Epic Laziness), I have decided to do WTF Wednesdays. Because I like alliteration. The general idea is that I will (hopefully remember to) post some sort of WTF on Wednesdays. Some will be law-related, some will not. It will remind me to update at least once a week. Also, my brain works this way: if I am updating the random WTF on Wednesday, I will remember that one thing I wanted to blog about for about 30 seconds before my next client called and I forgot what it was. Everybody wins.

And so, without further preamble, the very first WTF Wednesday (all links are safe for work):

I have a bridge to sell you.  No really… I do.

I wish like hell I had made this up, because it’s nine levels of awesome.  But I am not that creative, or that funny.  Damn it.

My prediction: Here is this year’s hot holiday item.  You heard it here first.

And there you have it.  If you have a WTF, feel free to tell me.  I would love to use it – with due credit, natch – in next week’s WTF Wednesday.

*Smack* *Thud* *Bonk*

This is what I always forget during salary negotiations.  Along with parking and insurance and vacation packages, I need to remember next time to make sure I have some sort of provision for konking people over the head when they’re stupid.  Not excessively, or anything, just the once.  Negative reinforcement teaches lessons.

JT is our firm’s of-counsel and he does most of the litigating.  Like every other lawyer on the planet, he has odd little foibles and he likes things a certain way.  Okay, no problem.  Foibles I can get used to, once I know what they are.  And we are still learning each other.  My problem with him is that he has the memory retention of an amoeba on crack.  Which is to say, none.  I have resorted to keeping an excel list of things he asks me to do, so that he can open the document himself and see that yes, he did indeed tell me when that MSJ was due, or that he needs to have this depo moved from 2:30 to 3:30.  It’s working out mostly pretty well.

I have also started working in our Cincinnati office once a week.  It’s a nice change of scenery, even if the commute does make me want to start shooting random motorists.  It’s a satellite office, so it’s small and quiet and there is only one other person there, which is freaking LOVELY.  We’re still working the bugs out, so the phones and computers only work intermittently, and I am supposed to be able to log into my computer here from the computer there, but that only works about every one in five tries.  I tend to take a lot of medical records with me so I have something to do all day.  Definitely helps keep me caught up on my meds, through.  And I have my phone with me, so I can still get my e-mail.  Which is how the following came about:

I was in Cincinnati on Thursday and the phone guy was in our office again trying to figure out why the phones aren’t working again.  My cell gave off it’s little bicycle bell noise – ring! ring! - to let me know that I have work e-mail.  It’s from one of the legal assistants here, asking about a case that recently settled.  There was some confusion as to who was paying court costs.  When I spoke with JT about it the day before, he said he would check with The Boss and let me know.  Hokay chief, no problem.  I let the legal assistant know that and asked her to check with JT to find out whether they had figured it out.  I get back the following e-mail form JT:

“I told you to check with [The Boss] about these court costs.  Do that and let [Legal Assistant] know.  I expect better communication between the two of you.  I should not have to be the middle man.  This is completely ridiculous!”

Dude.  Really?!?

No, actually, you didn’t ask me to check with anyone.  You told me YOU would do it.  Which I reminded him.  I then get a phone call a few minutes later: “I forgot I said that – sorry.”  *CLICK!*

Um.  Okaaaayyy.  I suppose I DID get an apology (sort of) out of an attorney, and that’s definitely something.  But honestly I think I’d feel better if I could clock him in the head.  Just the once, you understand.

You Got Served

From the ABA Journal:

Our Pleasure to Serve You: More Lawyers Look to Social Networking Sites to Notify Defendants

Working in litigation, service is a frequent headache of mine.  Defendants move.  They duck service.  They are homeless.  But somehow, they still manage to maintain a Facebook or Twitter account.  I have used social media to track down defendants, witnesses, and the occasional AWOL client.  I have also used Facebook profiles for jury research.  It’s a lot cheaper and most of the time faster than using a private detective.  I can’t quite figure out how we would use social media as a means of service all the time, but it’s an interesting idea.

Bad Caller! No!

Sometimes the people who call here are just… insane.  For example:

• If you are calling with (what you think) is a medical malpractice case, do not argue with me.  I promise you, I know what I’m doing.  That’s why I still have a job.  I am not lying to you when I tell  you that I understand it’s frustrating that a nurse didn’t answer your call button promptly enough while you were recovering from your tonsillectomy, but unless she didn’t answer your call and you died, it’s really not malpractice.  It’s just shitty service.  Call the hospital.  Do not waste my time.
• We cannot help you if you were not ACTUALLY injured.  “Well, I never went to the doctor or anything, but I had pain and suffering!” is not okay.  If you have no BILLS, you have no DAMAGES.
• It takes more than a few days to settle a personal injury case.  We get the same contingency fee rate whether your case settles in two days or two years.  We are not trying to rack up billable hours.  Negotiations take time.  Also?  If you are still treating for your accident, STOP ASKING ME WHEN WE’RE GOING TO SETTLE.  We can’t do jack crap until you are done with medical treatment (or at least as close as you’re likely to get).
• Your hairdresser’s sister’s daughter who has been in legal secretary classes at the local trade school for two weeks should not be your resident legal expert.  If I tell you that you need an attorney licensed in Nevada because that’s where you were injured and their laws are different from ours, I promise, I am not lying.  Just because you moved to Ohio a year after your accident does not mean you can now sue in Ohio court.
• If we didn’t take your case, there is most likely a good reason.  You didn’t somehow get into the “Who’s Case Will We Reject Today” lottery.  Like our letter says, it’s not a matter we feel confident we can prevail upon.  Calling in the middle of a hissy fit and arguing with the staff about it changes NOTHING.
• I get that at some point someone told you that you would catch more flies with indignant rage than you would with honey, but they LIED to you.  You’re doing it wrong.

Ass-U-Me

I made a huge mistake yesterday.

I have a case that, basically, is an enormous cluster of suck. Here’s the lowdown:

Two women are driving home from West Virginia to Ohio. The 9-year-old daughter of one of the women is also in the car. The car stalls on the highway and is hit by a tanker truck. The car bursts into flames and all three occupants are killed. Absolutely tragic all around.

The next of kin of the adult passenger is her mother. She is attempting to gain custody of her grandchildren.  There are three, and all have different fathers. Juvenile court has jurisdiction over two of them and domestic relations is keeping the other because there was a divorce at some point.

The minor passenger’s next of kin is her father. The one mostly straight-forward part of the case.

The driver has two children who are of age and three minor children, not including the one who was in the accident. Her mother is also living. This part is a little more complicated.  We represent the mother of the driver. She has applied to administer the estate. So has the oldest daughter. So there are competing applications.

This means that I am responsible for two juvenile custody cases, one DR custody case, three wrongful death investigations, and three estates, one of which is contested. In a county I have never worked with. And a partridge in a pear tree.

The dangers inherent here are many. I have never worked in this county. Ever. I have never done juvenile or DR. Ever. I have never done a contested estate.  EVER.

I was actually pretty proud of myself. I have muddled through okay so far. The juvenile custody cases are done and the two uncontested estates are moving right along. 

You know the saying about pride going before a fall? What they don’t tell you is that you tend to fall on your face.

In the county I live and work in, probate court does service on estates. The county this is in apparently does not. Guess who didn’t check? That would be me. I just assumed that court worked the same as my local one.  My boss got his ass handed to him in court today because we hadn’t perfected service on all the beneficiaries.

Moral? NEVER assume. ALWAYS check. And when you screw up,  take responsibility and do what you can to fix it.  Also, learn from it.

All Hail the Queen

So, Hades. (Clearly I am just determined to finish this, come hell or very high stacks of paper.)

When we left off, I had managed to start taking what was supposed to be a third of the personal injury cases in Hades.  The Queen was not amused.  Since I didn’t have to run all of my work by her anymore, she didn’t have a way – for the time being – to mess with me.  (I know that sounds very childish and self-centered, but stay with me.  All will become clear.)  That didn’t last long.

One of my first cases was due for a pretrial scheduling conference.  The court here does them via conference call.  I had reminded the Useless Attorney the day before, made sure he had the file, and brought him up to speed on who had and hadn’t answered yet, as well as any discovery that was outstanding.  He asked me to tell the court to call his cell, which I did.

At 8:40 the next morning, I get a very unhappy call from the judge’s office.  Apparently Useless Attorney’s cell phone was sending all calls straight to voice mail.  My guess was that he was still asleep.  This is the first time this has happened to me, and I am a little flummoxed for a moment.  Just long enough for Entitled Jerk to eavesdrop on my phone call.  She called The Queen to tell her what was going on.  The Queen then called me to inform me that SHE would handle this.  I started to tell her I had it under control – these particular conferences are just setting the dates for the case, discovery cutoff and so on – but she cut me off, saying I clearly do NOT have it under control and telling me I was useless before she hung up on me.  She then made very sure to tell Bipolar when he came in what happened and how I had screwed it up.  He called me into his office later and told me not to take it personally; she was like that with everyone.  I asked him if there was something I needed to change about my work and he told me no, that they were all very pleased with me.

Okay, good enough.

She did little things like that from time to time – I started to think maybe she was just bored or something.  She would give me the most convoluted cases and the most difficult clients.  She would take my phone calls from time to time, tell my clients or defense counsel that something would be done, but not tell me about it, and not do it herself.  Entitled Jerk, who had fashioned herself into a kind of minion for the Queen, was supposed to go through the mail and distribute it every day.  What she actually did was give everything with a court or another law firm in the return address to the Queen.  Including my mail.  The Queen would then sit on it, sometimes for days.  So suddenly I would come back from lunch to find a week’s worth of mail on my chair and spend the rest of my day putting out the fires she had let smolder for the last few days.  I went to the attorneys with it from time to time,  but was always blown off.  I must be mistaken.  She’s really good at her job.  I should make friends and learn from her.

Let me take a pause to gag.

She was, very simply, the favorite.  She was the only salaried employee.  she didn’t have to account for any time she took off, and she took off a LOT.  She could basically come and go as she pleased, and frequently did.  Her usual hours went from about 10 a.m. to somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 p.m.  Plus a 90-minute lunch.  She frequently filed motions to continue – without attorney direction – because she didn’t have everything done for whatever trial was looming.  This was all just fine by the attorneys.  As long as it was her.  Our vacation policy was use it or lose it, so when it got to the end of the year and I had several hours of vacation left, I decided to take a couple of early days off.  I made sure they were on everyone’s calendar, and on days where I had no deadlines.  You’d have thought I took the day off to go on Oprah and tell all their secrets.  I was told in no uncertain terms that I was NEVER to do that again, and if it meant I lost vacation, tough.

Oh.  Okay.

Speaking of vacation, the next time I took a stretch of vacation – Thursday through Tuesday – was the last straw for me.  I went to Philadelphia with a couple of friends, and when I returned, I found a pile of mail, as expected.  However, in the middle of that pile was a notice from the court that one of our cases was up for dismissal.  It was an outlying county who doesn’t have an online docket, and apparently our defendant hadn’t answered.  We hadn’t filed a motion for default judgment, so the court was ready to dismiss for failure to prosecute.  We had two weeks from the date of the notice to file a default or be dismissed.  I’m looking at this notice, and the date on it…. was three weeks ago.

THREE. WEEKS.  AGO.

I have been out of the office for four days, not counting the weekend.  There is no WAY this just came in.  I call the clerk’s office, and learn that our case was indeed dismissed, that the entry went out in yesterday’s mail.

Ah, crap.

I go to the Queen’s office, and ask her when it came in.  She gives me this kind of half-smile and says, “Oh, I really don’t know.  I’m far too busy to pay attention to your mail.”

Oh, you bitch.

It was Bipolar’s case, and he was meeting with a client at the time, so I asked Doormat to let me know as soon as he was out, so I could let him know what happened and do whatever damage control I could.  She called my office a few minutes later to let me know his client left, but now the Queen of Hades is in there with the door closed.

Terrific.

I get a call from him a few minutes after that.  And he is LIVID.  She apparently told him she knew that notice had come in a few weeks ago, that she had given it to me that same day, and she couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t have taken care of it.  And nothing I said could convince him otherwise.  He was fully convinced that I was lying to him.  Fully.  “I can take a lot of things, but I despise liars,” he said.

I’d  been there a year and nine months at that point, and I was done.  I started looking for another job that day.  I kept my head down, did exactly what was asked of me and absolutely NO more.  I didn’t come in early, I didn’t stay late, and I most certainly didn’t take work home with me, all of which had been fairly common occurrences before.  I didn’t speak to any of them unless I absolutely had to.  I checked out.  I was just finished.

I stumbled across the listing for my current job while perusing the job board at the college I graduated from.  Looking for a med-mal/PI paralegal.  I e-mailed my resume.  When I got called for an interview the next day, I was thrilled.  I met with my current boss, and the interview lasted almost two hours.  At the end of it, he told me he hadn’t interviewed anyone else, and he didn’t think he was going to.  Told me to expect an offer letter by the end of the week.

I thought that stuff only happened on T.V.

The moment, the SECOND that offer letter came, I accepted, and marched myself down the hall to give my notice.  I can’t tell you what it took not to leave a post-it that said, “Fuck YOU” on my monitor and just bolt, but I didn’t.  Even though I really, REALLY wanted to.

The attorneys took it personally.  They stopped speaking to me altogether.  I would leave my desk and come back to find a post-it note from one of them telling me what they needed.  It was so stupid and juvenile.  About halfway through my two weeks, I was out of things to do.  They weren’t giving me more work, and all of my cases were organized to the hilt.  There was nothing left.  I came back from lunch to find a post-it note: “Go ahead and go home when you’re ready.  Today is your last day.”

Don’t have to tell me twice.  I’d had my office packed up from the day I started looking.  I took a nice week’s vacation and started my current job happy, rested, and refreshed.

They called my current boss (we are one floor above them in our building) several times during my first week here.  Demanding to know who had given me a reference.  He kept telling them no one had, which is true – he didn’t even ask for any of my references, but they kept asking.  He thought it was hysterical.  So did I.

I see the girls downstairs, the decent ones, from time to time.  I hear they have just lost their fourth paralegal since I quit in February.  The Queen.  No one can stand to work with her.  In fact, I understand that at least two of them were fresh out of school and have decided they don’t want to work in law, ever again.

The woman is very good at what she does.