Here are some snippets from actual emails I’ve sent to opposing attorneys in the past week:
- All my client wants to do is see the doctor to whom your client agreed to send him, but your client won’t let him. Is this really worth going to court over?
- It’s been 30 days now since you promised to do what you’re required to do under the statute anyway. Thanks. You’ll get your service copy of our Complaint tomorrow.
- You know, before I changed sides, I thought it was the plaintiffs’ attorneys who were deceptive and conniving. You’ve convinced the reverse is true. Congratulations.
- My client just got evicted from his trailer, and your assistant says you won’t get back to me until you get back from Hilton Head in two weeks. I would’ve left a voicemail were my mouth not full of bile.
- Let’s have the mediation in your office. I’ve never seen the inside of the Death Star.
- I’m emailing you instead of calling, because I don’t understand parseltongue.
The first thing I did when I joined the local trial lawyers’ association was to search for my name to see what others had said about me during the 5+ years I defended insurance companies. All of the comments were positive: “reasonable to deal with,” “professional,” “honest.” Except for one person, but she’s a fat whore, and I hate her.
Some of these emails were to lawyers whom I consider to be friends, even if I dislike their clients. But I’m finding myself spending more and more time pissed off every day, now that I represent real people with real pain and problems: ie, not insurance companies trying to save a few thousand dollars here and there by delaying action.
It’s the nature of our adversarial system of justice to get riled up every once in a while, but can you imagine what life would be like if other professions were adversarial?
What if every time a cardiologist had his hands inside a chest cavity, some nefarious son of a bitch were releasing rabid gerbils and blowing anthrax spores throughout the OR?
Or if every classroom had a teacher in front and a Ron Jeremy shoot in the back?
Or if every writer had a cymbals player shadowing her from coffeehouse to coffeehouse throughout the day?
Or every musician were assigned a heroin dealer immediately upon learning the first barre chord?
Or every archeologist had a bulldozer operator waiting for the chance to undo a day’s worth of meticulous unearthing in 5 seconds?
Or every salesperson had hecklers show up to every appointment with a chorus of “this shit sucks–don’t do it!” in the background, like a real live version of negative Yelp reviews?
So think about that next time you see a bunch of men and women in suits sitting around a table littered with empty wine and beer bottles on a Thursday evening, their voices a few decibels too loud, and their language a few four-letter-words too profane.
And don’t hesitate to buy me a drink. Unless you’re that whore from the listserv.