I Can't Complain

Who Says There's a Recession?

This afternoon when I checked my work mailbox, I discovered a small box, about 9" x 7" x 2" in my slot. In fact, there was a similar box in every attorney's mailbox. It was from one of the bigger law firms in town, and It looked like this:

 

Since it's the season for holiday swag-giving (or would that be swagging), I was pretty excited, although I couldn't think of what I, along with every other attorney in my firm, had done to deserve swag from this other firm. But hey, I like swag as much as the next person, and far be it from me to turn down a bigger firm's largesse, so I hustled back to my office and opened it. Inside was this:

In caes you can't tell, it's a single 8.5" x 6.5" sheet of cardstock:

With a small plastic compass attached:

(Sorry for the crappy photo quality - my cameras are both dead, and my cell phone is an inadequate substitute).

Anyway, it's an invitation to a free continuing legal education course sponsored by the big law firm. That's it. (What does a small plastic compass have to do with continuing legal education? Damned if I know.)

So, is it me, or was that package just the teensiest bit excessive for what could have been done via a single sheet of 8.5" x 11" paper, a postcard or even an email?  What, do they have some funds they have to get rid of between now and the end of the year? It's like a box full of arrogant: Rescession, what's that?  We've got money TO BUUUUURN. Oh, and hey, environment, screw you, too! And the best part is, the course they're sponsoring is on professional responsibility. Ethics - you're doing it wrong.

Not Quite, Street View

So I just discovered that there's a Google Street View for a small-ish portion of my city. It doesn't cover the street my house is on, which I know because I immediately checked to see if you could see me or my car, and I was really disappointed to realize you can't even see my house. You can, however see my office building:

It's the one with the NBSC on top. Pretty cool, eh? You can almost see my office window. I look out over that beautiful green space, and I can see the statehouse out the window:

There's only one problem. They've been constructing a building in that green space for at least the past 18 months. A big one. With a really ugly concrete parking deck behind it. Now my view looks like this:

 

If I crane my neck just right, I can sometimes see the sky reflected off the mirrored windows up there at the top. And look, I think that might be part of a tree visible through the columns at the bottom left there. That's practically the same as my old view, right?  

Anyway, I understand they can't keep every area completely up-to-date all the time, but what really cracked me up were their suggested uses for using Street View. It was stuff like "check parking availability or wheelchair access" or... maybe find a nice park across the street from the state capitol in which to have a picnic. Another suggestion was "show your parents and faraway friends where you live." Or the view out your office window.

The "show your parents" suggestion also included "Look for a place nearby to take them for brunch." Like maybe this nice little cafe across the street from the statehouse:

I hear there's no wait for a table there these days. As long as you don't mind busting down the boarded up door to get in.  But don't worry, I bet that guy standing there will be happy to help you. 

Also, a Stinky Diapers update. Yeah, I'm on a blogging tear.

Dear John

Today I'd like to address an issue near and dear to my... well, if not my heart then some other, equally vital portion of my anatomy.

It's the john. The can. The potty. The commode, the crapper, the W.C., the loo, the throne, the porcelain bus.  You get the picture, right? In case you don't, I'm talking about this:

What? Your office doesn't have one of those? (Actually, I'm surprised my employer hasn't already thought of this.)

Anyway, let me say first that I have no problem using public restrooms. That said, I HATE having to share a bathroom with my female coworkers.  Somehow peeing next to an anonymous stranger I'm never going to see again seems far less awkward that having to listen to one of my colleagues relieve herself and then have a conversation with her in the breakroom five minutes later.  And I especially hate knowing who had a bad reaction to their lunch at the cheap Mexican place, or who maybe shouldn't have eaten so much of the broccoli part of their beef with broccoli.

But since I don't have the option of a private bathroom, and I'm not willing to go that route up there just yet, I'd like to set down some ground rules that I think will help make everyone's communal evacuation experience better:

First, don't take the stall next to someone unless you really have to.  If you walk into a four-stall bathroom and there is one person already in a stall, there is NO REASON for you to take the stall next to them. How about a one-stall buffer rule, okay? I mean really, the more space between you and a coworker's naked butt, the better. Don't you agree?

Also, don't try to hold cross-stall conversations.  I don't know about you, but when I'm in the bathroom, I'm busy with other, fairly important stuff. I don't have any desire to bellow at you over the stall walls about when how to make a motion for summary judgment, or whether your research is going to be done soon. The bathroom is no place for multi-tasking.

Which brings me to my next point: cell phone use in the restroom. Just... don't.  I'm pretty sure the person on the other end doesn't want to hear you peeing, and I really don't want to hear your conversation while I'm trying to pee. Mkay?

And finally, I would just like to go on record as saying that I HATE (and by hate I mean despise with the fiery passion of a thousand suns simultaneously going supernova) self-flushing toilets.  We're all adults here. Surely we can be depended upon to flush the toilet after we use it. And AFTER is the key here. The self-flushing toilets in the restroom here seem to have some difficulty determining when I'm finished with them. It's like peeing into whirlpool; I half expect to be sucked down one of these days. And even when the thing waits until I'm finished with my actual toilet use, it doesn't give me near enough time for the post-use hygiene portion of the program.  I can't be the only one who likes to wipe for more than .2 nanoseconds before tossing the toilet paper in, can I?  I dearly hope not.

So there you go. I was planning on closing this post with a toilet-related pun or two, but I really couldn't think of anything that didn't sound strained (hah, that's kind of one isn't it?!), so everyone should just insert their toilet humor of choice here.

Oh, and somewhat appropos of this topic, there's a Stinky Diapers post from yesterday.

I Prefer To Think of Myself As a Code Buster

Last night Larry and I were watching this Extreme Engineering thing about building the new Oakland Bay Bridge, and how they have to build it all super-strong and fancy to withstand the Next Big Quake, since the current bridge didn't do so great during the Last Big Quake. Anyway, while I was watching, I realized that I'm in entirely the wrong profession. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not that I have this burning desire to be a welder or work on a bridge construction crew. In fact, that looks like far too much work for my taste. But really, they have WAY better nicknames for their jobs than I do.

Seriously, how cool is it to tell people you're a rod buster or a barge wrangler?  And then there's my personal favorite - pile buck. (Though I originally thought they were saying "pile butt" which is much more fun to say, but not something I'd especially want to be called.) It's way cooler than saying "yeah, I'm a lawyer."  I mean, you tell someone you're a rod buster, and all kinds of interesting conversation opens up. You tell someone you're a lawyer and they either make a rude comment about shysters, tell some lame lawyer joke or ask you for free legal advice "for a friend."  And really, imagine the potential pickup lines that go with being a pile buck. I'm pretty sure no one's ever made any good pickup lines out of "research attorney."

So I've decided. Next time someone asks me what I do, I'm going to tell them I'm a case law buck. Or maybe a stare decisis wrangler. What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?

Thursday 13: Wills and Trusts

As I've mentioned before, a while back I asked my Facebook peeps to shout out blog topics. I guess I'm a little like Clive Anderson, without the accent and the really funny show.  Anyway, my imaginary friend Susan suggested wills and trusts for some reason. I don't know, maybe she's hoping I'll leave her something in mine. Anyway, I think wills and trusts are a pretty boring topic, but as I always say, "give the people what they want."  (Actually, I never say that. Mostly I say stuff like "are you freakin' kidding me with this question?" and "get the hell out of my office, I'm busy!"  But I digress.)

So here are thirteen things about wills and trusts you might be interested in:

1. You really should have a will. It should be written, and preferably witnessed by two people who aren't getting anything out of it, but if you find yourself on a ship that's going down for the third time in the middle of the Atlantic, one in your handwriting will probably work, even without the requisite number of witnesses. Make sure you write it on something waterproof, though.

2. Number one notwithstanding, if you die without a will, your stuff will not escheat to the state. It'll still go to your spouse, your children, your parents, your siblings, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, or your cousins, in that approximate order. Honestly, I don't know where people get this idea from, but your family is not going to get nothing if you die intestate. (That's the fancy legal word for "without a will". Now that I've used it I'm going to have to charge you, so anyone reading this should please send me $50.) Pretty much every state has a statute that describes who gets your stuff and in what proportion, in absence of a will.  The only way the state gets your property is if you die without a will and without any relatives whatsoever. Of course, if you're worried about Weird Cousin Harold inheriting your house and bothering your neighbors, you might want to see number one, above.

3. Wills don't have to be complex, but they do have to be executed properly, so while one of those will kits might seem like a great way to save a little dough and avoid having to hire some shyster lawyer, if you don't do it right, it might not be valid. Of course, you'll be dead, so you might not care. But then Weird Cousin Harold might get your stuff, and your annoyed neighbors will never come visit your grave.

4. You can't disinherit your spouse, no matter how much you want to. There might be a state or two where you can get away with this, but in every state I've ever checked, there are statutes that provide for your spouse if your refuse to do so in your will. There are some things you can do, but they mostly require the help of a lawyer, and your spouse is still going to get something. Of course, if you really object to your spouse getting anything, you might want to stop and consider what you're still doing married to that person.

5. On the bright side, you CAN disinherit those lousy kids of yours who never call, except to ask for money.

6. Also on the bright side, if you left some stuff to your spouse in your will, and he subsequently became your ex-spouse, but you die before you change your will, he's probably not going to get anything, since most states' laws assume you just forgot to write the bastard out of your will and ignore any provisions for him.

7. You know those scenes in the old black & white murder mystery movies where the family all gathers in the lawyer's office for the will reading and then some shocking fact comes out that breaks the whole thing open?  Yeah, there's no such thing as a will reading. The will doesn't have to be officially read to the heirs by a lawyer or anyone else. You just take that sucker and the appropriate legal documents down to the probate court and file it.  Then anyone who wants to check and see what they got can trot on down there and have a look. That's a lot less dramatic, though, especially if you've ever seen a probate clerk's office.

8.  Have I mentioned that wills and trusts is really boring topic? Is everyone asleep yet?

9. In the old days, the person who made sure the terms of your will were followed was called your executor. In the really old days, if that person was female, she was called your executrix, which I think sounds pleasantly like dominatrix. Sadly, these days most places refer to both executors (male or female) and administrators (the person who takes care of your estate if you die without a will) collectively as personal representative, possibly because people kept getting the wrong idea about exactly what the executrix was supposed to do.

10. Although this may seem counter-intuitive, a video taped will is actually less likely to be valid than a written one. Very few states have statutes providing for multi-media will drafting; most still require good old paper and ink, and two witnesses.

11. My firm once handled an estate dispute between a dead guy's parents and his significant other, over who got his ashes. It was more than a little creepy. If you want someone specific to get your ashes, or be in charge of your remains or handle your funeral, you should be sure and put that in your will, because those kinds of disputes always turn ugly.

12. Despite being a lawyer, having convenient access to a trusts and estates attorney, and really knowing better than this, I don't actually have a will. But if I did, none of you would be getting anything. Except you, dear husband. And not just because I have to. So the rest of you don't need to bother coming to the will reading to see my video taped will.

13. I haven't really said anything about trusts, mostly because there are 87 billion types and variations on trusts, and at least that many reasons for needing or wanting one.  So I just have one piece of advice on trusts: If you go to some seminar where some fast talking snake oil salesman convinces you that the cure to all your woes is to put all your property in a trust, PLEASE do not call your attorney ask him or her to set up a land trust for you. That will only confuse the attorney and piss off the researcher he or she passes the question off to. Ask me how I know.

Finally, it should be noted that this is NOT legal advice. It's an attempt at humor. If you need advice on drafting a will or (heaven forfend) a land trust, you need to consult with a lawyer who isn't writing a sarcastic blog in her free time, and preferably one who practices in your state or jurisdiction.

Let's Call It a Cultural Difference

Today I was talking with one of the research attorneys I work with about a new consultative attorney who will be starting in one of our other offices on Monday.  Since we've had a number of discussions about how the ground rules for research requests need to be set down at the outset, or we we waste a lot of time having to break their bad habits later, she asked me how I planned to "assert my dominance" over him.

"I don't know," I replied. "Maybe I'll drive up there and punch him in the face."
"That's a thought," she said. "Or... a nice note of welcome is always appreciated."

Can you guess which of us is from New Jersey and which of us is from the Midwest?  I'll give you a hint... if you guess wrong, I'll have to punch you in the face.

Thursday 13: Thirteen Things You Shouldn't Need Your Lawyer To Tell You

As you may be able to tell, lately I've been a little frustrated with my job. For the most part I like it, and I do think the opportunity to provide legal services to people who otherwise probably wouldn't be able to afford it is a good thing. But sometimes the things people ask us about seriously make me want to cry. And the fact that they make it through another attorney to me to be researched?! Just about makes my head explode. To that end, here's a list of 13 things you really shouldn't need your lawyer (or your research department) to tell you:

1. You need to read legal documents before you sign them. If you sign something without knowing or understanding the contents of it, you'll still be held responsible for it.

2. If you didn't buy a lottery ticket for the Dutch/Irish/Canadian lottery, the chances that you actually won the grand prize are approximately zero. And no legitimate lottery would make you put money up first in order to get your prize winnings.

3. If you put up bail money for your girlfriend, and then she dumps you and takes off, you can't get your money back.  Even if she's not your girlfriend anymore. That's kind of the whole point of bail.

4. Chain letters that ask for money violate federal law, even if they purport to have been "approved" by a lawyer. And no lawyer would ever write a letter saying something is completely legal, especially something as clearly illegal as a chain letter.

5. You can't ask a court to terminate your own parental rights because you don't feel like paying child support anymore. And you should be flogged for even asking.

6. Also, you can't "give back" the child you adopted because he turned out to have mental or emotional problems you don't want to deal with. And you should be flogged for even asking.

7. If your bank or mortgage lender sends you certified mail, you should accept it. Not signing for it does not stop them from repossessing your car or foreclosing on your house.

8.  All employees, not just federal employees, are subject to income tax, and the IRS has already thought of and shot down any "clever" argument you can think of for avoiding taxes.

9. The color, shape or presence of fringe on an American flag displayed in a courtroom has no bearing whatsoever on the court's jurisdiction over you.

10. The police may, indeed, sit at the side of the road with their lights off in order to catch speeders. You don't have a Constitutional right to break the law, and they don't have a duty to warn you that they are going to be enforcing it.

11. You can't discharge your student loans or your child support arrearage in bankruptcy. These debts will follow you around forever, so you might as well just pay them.

12. You can't sue the military for an injury you incurred during the course of your military service. You pretty much agreed to this risk when you signed on.  You especially can't sue in 2009 them for the bad knee you got during your tour in Vietnam in 1968.

13. You can't sue Tom Daschle because he didn't pay his taxes, even if you are a taxpayer.

Wordless Wednesday: Exactly How I Feel Today

Stick a Fork In Me, I'm Done

I'm tired. I had a tough day at work, with another one coming tomorrow, and I'm mentally and physically exhausted.  I have had enough.  I have so much work to do that when I think about it, I feel physically ill.  And there's only so many times you can ask the same people to do the same things they fail to do, day after day, before you start feeling like you're beating your head against a wall. I think there must be a lifetime limit to the number of lazy, stupid people one has to deal with, and I'm fast approaching it.  If I have to ask one more person to do their own damn job, I seriously think my head might explode.

Realistically, I know this will pass. Mostly I like my job and the people I work with, and all jobs have frustrating aspects to them. But for now, I'm just going to pour myself a big glass of wine, crawl into bed and hope that I accidentally oversleep all the way to Friday.

I'm No Perry Mason

I don't talk that much here about my job, partly because as an attorney, the really interesting stuff is generally confidential, and the non-confidential stuff tends to be pretty boring. Today I'm going to, mostly because the blog post I had half-composed in my head this morning was blown all to bits when I got to work and got roped into an ongoing case that had a situation brewing. I normally don't do litigation, but the attorney who was handling it is out of town, and I did do it for seven years, so I guess I'm sort of the fall-back position.  I spent most of the morning getting up to speed on the file, and doing legal research, and then I started banging out the papers, which needed to be filed by the end of the day.  About 3/4 of the way through, my boss called and told me he had settled the issue with counsel for the other side without my even having finished writing the motion.

And this reminded me why I don't do litigation any more. This kind of stuff used to happen to me on an almost-invariable basis. Oh, I know, settling is good, and it's always better to make amicable arrangements than argue in front of a judge. But to be an effective litigator, I have to get my blood flowing and my adrenalin surging in order to write good papers or make a successful court appearance. And having it become moot in the middle of all that is a little like getting interrupted in the middle of sex - it leaves you with all this adrenalin and nothing to do with it. And once the rush has subsided, it leaves you without the ability to think about anything else for the rest of the day. 

At least, that's how it is for me. I suspect others are better suited to the life  - when that stuff happened to my boss in NYC, he'd just laugh, grab another cup of coffee and yell "okay, what's next!".  I've always been like this, too - the first week at my first job as a law student, I was asked to write a reply brief to the Third Circuit Court of Appeals. (This is a pretty big deal.)  Approximately 30 seconds after I'd put the finishing touches on the document I'd labored several days over, the attorney handling it came over and told me not to bother; they'd decided not to file a reply. I promptly burst into tears.  And not just a little sniffling and some watery eyes.  The full on blubbering, sobbing thing. "Kid," my boss said, "you're never going to make it."

And I guess he was right.  But I love my current work, and I know I'm much better at what I do now, having had that experience. So if this isn't making it, I think I'm okay with that.

Another new Stinky Diapers.