The “ick” factor. Everyone may have a particular definition of what that is, but I think we can all agree that certain things gross out many, if not all, of us. Lawyers, their offices, and courthouses are not immune.
Does anyone else hate bugs? Here’s a story in Oklahoma, where bed bugs spied on a lawyer’s jacket led to the closing of the Claremore courthouse. Ick. Claremore is a town in northeastern Oklahoma. The courthouse was closed in order to fumigate, but as anyone knows who has been in contact with a bed bug (luggage, mattresses, etc.), those suckers are not easy to kill, but they do provide a very nice niche practice for lawyers. Just Google “bed bug lawyers.” The article didn’t say whether the unidentified lawyer had that kind of niche practice.
What’s the likelihood that an attorney would contract typhus (yes, you read that right) working in her office doing lawyer things? I am not making this up. A deputy city attorney in Los Angeles working in her downtown office in City Hall East contracted typhus there. Reason? Or reasons? Fleas and rats, the latter not the two-legged kind. Yes, there have been many jokes about rats in city government (the two-legged kind). No joke as Elizabeth Greenwood told her supervisors whom she said did not notify her colleagues about the problem. Ick.
However, it’s not just Greenwood’s office that’s infested, it’s City Hall and Greenwood’s coming forward has sparked a number of similar stories from other city employees. More ick. Although some opposing counsel may be rats metaphorically, they don’t have beady eyes — well, some of them may, but no flea infestations, at least so far. Can you imagine having to fumigate every courthouse? Some think it might improve the quality of justice.
It’s already mid-February and stories abound about “what were they thinking,” aka lawyers who left their brains somewhere other than where they needed to be. How about a judge taping conversations with her superior and then denying she had done it? Is there an exception for judicial officers that says it’s okay to lie?
How about that Oklahoma lawyer who has been charged with, among other things, solicitation of murder and racketeering? I don’t know about you, but I would definitely rather be the Oklahoma lawyer with the bed bugs.
And then there’s the one about the Biglaw associate who transferred two and a half million dollars (yes, you read that right) to a scammer’s account. Whoops. The associate sent the money from a real estate sale to a bank account in Hong Kong after being asked to do so. The money was wired at the purported request of a mortgage company, which never confirmed the legitimacy of the wire request, but subsequent emails from those impersonating the mortgage company employees provided international account and other information.
I’ve heard stories like these from sophisticated attorneys who have been in practice for years and didn’t fall off the turnip truck until their encounters with crooks. The usual drill is that a solo or small firm lawyer is contacted (possible new business?), asked to deposit money in the trust account and then wire the funds, usually overseas. Need I tell you the number of times that this happens? Poof, the money is gone for good.
What happens next is not pretty. The attorney’s bank charges back the loss to the client trust account (yes, banks can charge back) and sometimes that results in an overdraft in the account. I don’t know about other states, but California requires that banks report to the State Bar any client trust overdrafts. So, the lawyer is in deep trouble twice, first with his bank of account and then with the State Bar. Choose your poison.
Among the “what was I thinking” situations recently is that of a California lawyer who is going to have to pony up more than $100,000 to resolve a dispute with a former employee over $300. Yup, you read that right. A former paralegal in Thomas Beck’s law office had a wage claim of $300 arising from an underpayment. What started out as a $300 dispute morphed into the attorney’s personal Jarndyce v. Jarndyce from Dickens’s Bleak House. And if you’re not familiar with the reference, you should be, as it’s the classic example of litigation run amok.
What advice would you have given Mr. Beck? Settle this turkey; it’s not worth the money and time you’re spending on it unless you have money to burn or you have nothing else to do. It’s akin to a surgeon operating on himself. Ick.
The attorney admitted that he made a mistake in representing himself. So stipulated. Regardless of the reasons the attorney decided to handle it himself (save money, case is a slam dunk, etc. whatever), there’s no question that having counsel would have saved him beaucoup bucks. So, this should be a cautionary tale about representing yourself.
And, as if you need any more reasons to STFU, to stifle yourself on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, et.al., here’s one: you just never know whether, where and when your antics might lead to blowback from your client. Is there anything worse than being sued by a client for malpractice based upon the attorney’s viral racist tirade?
Too often — in fact, far too often — we don’t think about the consequences of our words in terms of the collateral damage they can and often do. We are “ready, fire, aim” instead of thinking how words matter, not just to us but to our audiences, wherever and whoever they are, whether intended or not. Once it’s out there, it’s out there.
So, in answer to the question “what were they thinking?” the answer is simple. They weren’t. And don’t let the bed bugs bite.
Ick! What Were These Lawyers Thinking? curated from Above the Law
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