Sooner or later we all go under the knife.
The gall bladder decides to imitate a fist-sized sandspur in your gut. That hernia painfully reminds you much too late that there are people who charge reasonable rates to move that leather sectional into your buddy's third floor walk-up. The tired rotator cuff from your glory days slinging curve balls keeps you awake at night once too often. You spend a week in Aspen on crutches after that knee ligament twangs and snaps like a guitar string on your third turn off the gondola.
If your life is anything like mine, you were forced into text messaging kicking and screaming.
Dexterity in my thumb and fingers was never honed by endless hours on a couch with an X-Box controller playing Madden or Mortal Combat. I would look at my phone's key board and then at my fat thumbs and simply shake my head in surrender.
There is an old joke about lawyers never reading anything they sign, kind of like the cobbler's kid going barefoot or the haute chef gobbling drive-thru take out. Guilty as charged here.
But when my youngest daughter was preparing to leave on a marine biology trip to Belize and Costa Rica a while back, I spent much of one morning reading and signing a stack of documents that seek to release the program operators and anyone they know or have ever known from being responsible if, god forbid, something bad happens. Understand, this is a quality program with students from all over the country and the world, with a squeaky clean track record. Their reputation is their greatest selling point. They do it right.
Have you visited Craigslist lately? Incredible, really.
Like those Moroccan market bazaars straight out of an old French Foreign Legion movie: noisy, crowded, frenetic, a little schticky but useful, very useful. A place you can search for, find and drive a nifty bargain.
And a place you can get fleeced without even knowing it.
Look up "buyer beware" on Wikipedia and the Craigslist logo pops up automatically (ok, not really, but it should). I am sure there's some questionable stuff in the posts related to other professions but the "legal services" section is flat out scary.
The world of contract drafting, contract interpretation and ultimately contract litigation and disputes is full of scintillating decisions and chicken-skin moments. Really, finding the right word for an anticipated scenario in a prickly high-stakes negotiation requires determined thought and consideration. Reviewing the work i.e. words chosen by other legal matadors necessarily involves a sharpened sense of critique and nuance. Standing in front of a judge and advocating for or against the meaning of a word or phrase, my particular happy place, can be heaven or hell but it's always a thrill.
And you thought lawyering was a yawn and a nap.
In honor of our veterans and our military on this day, we thought it appropriate to re-post a piece we wrote a few years ago about a young serviceman dreaming of big things in his life:
I just had an invigorating client meeting with a young Army private stationed at MacDill Air Force Base here in Tampa. First, I can say that if this is the quality of soldier we are attracting to and training in our military ranks, we are in good hands in the years to come. This young man was polished, assertive, inquisitive and motivated. He is truly a proud tribute to his family and himself.
"So tell me what happened."
As you may logically expect, that's typically the first thing I say when I meet a new client. And I have great deal of respect for a client's perception of the facts. They are entitled to and I give them the benefit of the doubt.
As a father of three, all in their twenties, I can look back on many parenting moments that, while being the source of the humbling silver tint of my hair (my word; most just call it what it is: gray), have become good stories to chuckle about these many years later. Too many fender benders, a few creepy friends (okay, boys), busted curfews and little white lies. Yeah, imagine that. Love hurts.
You text, right?
Probably every day, several times a day. It is a pervasive and handy form of communication used by essentially everyone, including me, with a cell phone. A September 2013 survey by the Pew Research Center revealed that:
91% of American adults own a cell phone.
97% of cell phone owners ages 18 to 29 send and receive texts.
94% of owners ages 30 to 49 send and receive texts.
75% of owners ages 50 to 64 send and receive texts.
It's safe to say there are few business owners and their employees who do not use texting to conduct business in one form or another. Following our previous post "$1.5 Million For Texting? That Is Awesome, Dude" about the perils of using text messaging as a form of communication during contract discussions, along come a slew of cases which should make business owners very very wary of their company texting policies.
The email popped up a while back and asked, "I owe you a call. What's a good time?"
Elbow deep in captivating 14th amendment and long-arm jurisdiction cases and hearing the clock ticking on my filing deadline, I hesitated. Could an analysis of Venetian Salami v. Parthenais (I'm serious) relative to my particular set of circumstances wait? The answer came easily.
I tapped out a reply: "How about now?"