My firm is pretty good about allowing the use of vacation days without prior notification, so when Val told me that her family had an empty timeshare going unused on Bald Head Island, I began packing immediately. Though I’m running a bit light in the cash department, given my recent successes and the free lodgings, I could not pass it up.

Despite everyone at the firm having July 3 off, the firm counted it against me in tabulating the vacation days I used for the trip. I was gone from July 1 to July 10. I’m officially out of vacation days.

The home was enormous. Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, huge kitchen + dining room combination, attached golf-cart garage (with golf-cart included) – simply incredible. Apparently Val’s parents shelled out almost 100 grand to use the property one month a year. Seems overpriced to me, but I’m not complaining.

Romantically, the vacation had it’s ups-and-downs. July 4th was wonderful – we watched a golf-cart parade, ordered takeout Italian and watched fireworks on the beach with a bottle of champagne. The next day, though, I wanted to lay on the beach with an icechest, but Val wanted to go into the little town area and shop – a major fight ensued. Fortunately, the close quarters pushed us to a relatively quick resolution. Some days, I convince myself that I need to put a ring on Val’s finger and grow up, yet others I shut her out completely. I’m still concerned that we are one fight away from ending the relationship. The vacation ended on a relationship high note though – with a photo of us kissing on the pier appearing in the Bald Head Island newsletter.

Waking for work today was very, very difficult – and since I didn’t get on the road until 8:00, traffic was miserable. Then, as I’m grabbing my bag from the trunk of my car, some jackass opens his car door right into the fender above my front left tire. The dent was immediately apparent.

The jackass stepped out of his car and was, of course, one of my supervisors. He insincerely says, “Oh sorry about that, how was your vacation?” Extremely pissed off, I was able to get through the conversation without screaming. I’m not sure if I’m going to get it fixed or not, I like my car but I’m not hyper-anal about it.

Check back soon for a more substantive post on the big case (and maybe a full writeup on the vacation).

Blogging as an attorney might be more of a pain than it is worth, particularly in the manner I have chosen. The last post brought far more attention to my blog than I anticipated and I’m not sure how I feel about it. A few of you were kind enough to email your comments to my blog address (blog@toiletlaw.com) and most of the emails featured similar questions / themes.

1) Your aren’t using your JD much at all. Don’t you want to something more “legal”?

Yes. I would love to have a more balanced job, but I’m not convinced that I want to bill 10 hours a day. I enjoy client interaction too much to leave it behind completely.

2) Have you told Val – what’s up with you guys?

I told her. We are still on the rocks.

3) Are you a fake blogger sent from the TTT law schools to con would-be law students into paying through the nose for legal education?

No.

4) But what about the case you just signed up, aren’t your rich now?

No. I get 4.2% of the firm’s 35% – meaning, I get 1.4% of the total settlement. This will be by-far my largest commission and I am very fortunate to land the case, but this isn’t some huge “time-to-retire” windfall. First, I’m going to lose numerous days working the case when I could be signing up clients. I prefer this work, but I will make less on other cases. Second, there is a good chance that this case takes 12-18 months. I won’t be receiving a bonus until late 2010 at the earliest. Third, taxes. The bonus is going to be severely neutered by taxes.

If I collect in 2010, there is a decent chance that I make more than my biglaw counterparts, but only by a few thousand.

5) But you said you were going to quit at the end of the case, how will you support yourself?

If my bonus is large enough, I want to give running my own firm a real chance. I haven’t really thought it out but the money will go a long way to financial freedom.

It’s difficult to describe the feeling. I recently signed up what will undoubtedly be the biggest commission of my short career, but the circumstances surrounding the case are particularly horrible. I wrote the following blog a few days ago but I debated not posting it:

Val and I are still together but I often consider putting the relationship out of its misery. This morning we had an outrageous fight about how I am not doing enough to support her recent weight loss efforts. She’s particularly mad that I keep telling her that she doesn’t need to lose weight – she’s a size 2.

Due largely to said fight, I didn’t get to work until 9:30. By then the overnight messages had been picked clean. I ended up with two dead-end slip-and-falls and a call marked as “Misc.” I couldn’t understand what the Misc. call was about but I was able to pick out a phone number.

I called the number at 10:00. The man who answered was very obviously asleep.

“Hi, this ToiletLawyer from ToiletLawFirm returning your call from last night. I’m terribly sorry to wake you.”
“uh-huh”
“Well, I listened to your message, but our system has been on the fritz and I couldn’t understand what you said. How can we help?”
“nothing … no … i already have a lawyer for it”
“Oh ok, well if you need anything just give us a call”
“you guys take customers to lunch?”
“Heh, umm, sometimes I guess”
“could you meet me at stanleys on baltimore?”
“I bet I could find it, but sir, can I get some information about your case. Were you in a car accident?”
“my wife died”

This is where my heart jumped through my chest – for all the wrong reasons. Seeing only dollar signs, I continued:

“I’m, I’m terribly sorry. Stanley’s you said? On Baltimore?”
“yes”
“What time would you like to meet?”
“im leaving now”
“Ok sir, can I have your name?”
“uh-hum”

He hung up. My boss wasn’t very happy about my departure, I don’t think he believed my story – but as I didn’t have a single promising case, I wasn’t doing much good in the office. It took about 20 minutes to get to Stanley’s which, of course, was a bar. I don’t know why I thought differently.

I walked in and the place was empty. No patrons, no employees, nobody. I sat in a chair by the door. Eventually a middle-aged woman walked out from a door in the back and informed me that they were closed. While I was explaining the situation a youngish (18-24) guy walked through the door.

“you the lawyer?”
“Yes sir, did I speak with you earlier?”
“uh-huh. Marge, can we have a booth” – the woman nodded.

He led the way to a booth in the very back of the room. He carried a bright red Marlboro gym bag.

“Thank you for meeting with me, I’m still a bit hazy on what happened. Did you say your wife died? I’m terribly sorry.”
“yeah, she died. my little girl too. both dead.”

About this time, Marge brought two glasses of ice and a bottle of Jim Beam to the table.

“Would it be possible for you to tell me how it happened?” I had my pen and pad ready to take notes.
“would you like a drink?”
“Yes thank you”

He filled the glasses to the top. We each took a gulp.

“youre a lawyer right?”
“Yes.”
“ok, whered you go to school?”
“Penn State”
“oh yeah? do you know John Cutter? i went to highschool with him, i think hes at law school right now”
“No I don’t think so, I haven’t been to the school since I graduated.”
“uh-hum”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, I tried my best to pace his drinking. At one point my cellphone began to ring, I ignored the call.

“eighteen wheeler ran em over on 95, hospital wants ten thousand”

The alcohol was getting to me – I hadn’t eaten breakfast. We sat in silence for another few minutes.

“you guys handle the hospital”
Yeah, we handle everything”

He refilled our glasses.

“whats your cut?”
“35%”

That rate is actually 5% lower than most of the cases we take, but I was confident that the firm would honor it.

“you have papers i need to sign?”
“I have an employment agreement if you are ready to employ us. I have a few questions though.”
“no thanks nevermind”
“Ok sorry, one question…two questions.”
“i dont have another attorney and i havent signed any papers from the insurance”

He had obviously spoken to other attorneys, he already knew my questions. I gave him the papers, he filled in his information and signed them. We stayed at the bar until 3 pm, we finished the bottle. I called the firm and asked my boss to send two taxis to the bar. I was evidently intoxicated but the boss obliged without question.

I was beyond intoxicated by the time the taxi dropped me off at the firm, I could barely stand. I should have gone home, but I was concerned about my job. I stumbled into my boss’s office and explained. He sent me home in the same taxi, I slept on my couch.

We’ve since received quite a bit of information about the case. An intoxicated truck driver slammed into the back of the car – pushing it into another truck. The firm is quite happy – I’m going to be the liaison between the client and the firm – for which they bumped my commission rate. I’m probably going to quit when we finish this case.

A flagged case is one that the firm plans to take to court. I don’t know the exact formula the firm utilizes for flagging cases, but I do know that whether or not the opposing firm has struck favorable deals with our clients in the past is a primary factor. You might think this a bit unethical or even reckless, but it does increase the average award for our clients, which is why they pick our firm over the other fifty local firms that practice the same law.

From the perspective of a junior attorney though, flagged cases suck. Cases take a long, long time to go through court, meaning it takes a long, long time to get your commission. And beyond that, the junior attorney who signs up the flagged case is expected to do handle a significant amount of the case’s paper work and filings. Driving to the courthouse to file a motion isn’t all that bad, but getting a medical history from an overweight, middle-aged, Russian-speaking alcoholic is a royal pain in the ass.

All I really needed to figure out was whether this former Soviet tank driver had ever experienced any sort of physical trauma that would make his right arm especially fragile. Instead, explained the tank driver, it was far more crucial to discuss why vodka that is only $3 a bottle in the Ukraine is $33 a bottle in America. He seemed displeased when I attempted to discuss taxes, regulations and transport costs.

I initially misunderstood the next topic he wished to discuss, although I knew it had something to do with the attractive, young receptionist who had, unfortunately, aided him in finding my desk. While attempting to pick out the random English sandwiched tightly between various Cyrillic ridiculousness, I was caught off guard by an unexpected word – “webcam”. In retrospect, I should have picked up on it sooner – the drunken Soviet was proposing a some sort of terribly illegal joint venture where we set up a video camera in the firm restrooms.

Nevertheless, determined to get the information, I soldiered on. I heard about his wife, who may or may not have slept with Putin’s uncle before settling down with the client. I heard about how he used to pleasure himself to photos of Nadia Comaneci, and that someone other than his wife liked to dress up in tights for him. I heard about his son who went back to the Ukraine after graduating high school and is now going to become an attorney. “juct lik achoo!” I wasn’t sure if he was complementing me or sneezing. (maybe both?)

After an hour of this, I asked him to leave. Seeing that I was frustrated, he relented and told me that three of his fingers were broken on a merry-go-round when he was a kid, but that his arm had never been injured. I made an unfunny joke about how much money would could have won him for the childhood accident. He left a good amount of grease/sweat on my hand during our goodbye shake as a token of his appreciation. I get to see him again at the end of the week when we fill out his insurance paperwork…

I wasn’t particularly impressed with the last post either. It sounded bitter and manufactured – and for that I apologize. Social skills are an important part of life, but you don’t need me to tell you that. I’ll do my best to never write anything like that again.

Up until the moment I graduated law school, I was a drama addict. School drama, relationship drama, family drama, etc – if there was an unwise, decadent display of emotion to be found, I wanted to be a part of it. I suppose my boring, middle-class upbringing left me excitement-starved, and rather than take up skydiving, I used drama to satisfy my completely juvenile need.

Family lore holds that my father married the first (and only) woman he ever dated (mom). In retrospect, I probably could have done the same. Actually, save one colossal dating blunder, I could have married any of the women I have dated and been quite happy. My drama addiction, though, laid waste to each relationship. I would start an extended fight* that would eventually force the girl to leave me. Some relationships took my sabotage better than others, one even limped along for more than a year. Eventually, each died. The period in each relationship between the initial fight* and the final goodbye would presumably satisfy most’s lifetime drama requirement.

*Fight is used here in its most expansive definition. My modus operandi was to, over the course of a month, passive-aggressively push on the woman’s insecurities until she broke. Each woman would spend the next week/month/year yelling and crying before ultimately leaving.

And I thought, after years of this, I had grown up. I figured my next serious, long-term relationship would result in marriage or, at least, some sort of adult “we aren’t right for each other” breakup.

The girlfriend and I are on the rocks. I’m pretty sure we are done. I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.

Over the past week more than two dozen recent t14 grads interviewed at my firm. We have one associate spot available.

I considered writing about how dismal the legal market must be to result in such applications, but upon inspection of our attorney bios, I discovered we already have three t14 graduates working at the firm. The economy has undoubtedly increased the quantity of t14 applicants, but we apparently get some every year. So rather than focus on the legal job market, I am going to discuss why most t14 graduates are under-qualified for this job.

No offense to past-present-future t14 students but you are all terrible salesmen. Since 60-80% of my paycheck comes from commission on the clients we sign up, salesmanship is crucial. Most t14 students I meet lack the ability to read social situations and act accordingly. I could not be a successful salesman without being able to read the customer on the other end of the line.

And I know, t14 students are trained to be legal scholars – not litigation pushers. I took the same classes in law school. In the real world though, you are constantly placed in situations that require you to sell something. These graduates wouldn’t be interviewing at my firm if they were better able to sell themselves to biglaw. Every partner at every law firm is constantly forced to sell his/her legal services. Sales is ingrained in the legal profession – get used to it.

Are you a t14 law student? Get some social practice. I know you think you are great at “networking” or whatever term you use to describe what happens at those silly student events. Go to bar, pick up a woman/man. Get a job at Circuit City Best Buy. Do something to practice sales – it’s a skill you are going to need.

For a brief period right after I got the job with my firm, I kinda imagined that I was finally to that place when I would be and do all those things I thought well-rounded, successful adults often do: go to the gym before work a few days a week, eat healthily, take up a real hobby so I had something mildly entertaining to put in my cheesy firm bio that my secretary insisted on adding to the attorney bio book in our office waiting room. Needless to say it didn’t exactly pan out that way. Unless catching cheese puffs in your mouth counts as a hobby – well, even if it does – I’m still hobby impaired. I had to quit cheese puffs cold-turkey when the girlfriend decided that “we” should go on a quasi health kick. Trying to catch wheat thins in your mouth is half as much fun and twice as dangerous. Now maybe you’re thinking “well at least he’s eating healthier,” but I usually eat 2 meals a day when Val (the girlfriend) isn’t around and I guarantee she would kill me if she knew about all of the delicious carbs and trans-fats I fill up on then.

And the craziest thing about all of this? I could probably make all those “adult” changes I once pictured in my life if I wanted. I’m not really short on time like a lot of lawyers seem to be. Strange part about working at the firm, though, I’m always tired when I got home – no matter what. I don’t think it would really matter if I shaved a couple of hours off my sleep time. And some (douchebags mainly) might consider it a failing on my part not to pursue such things when I have the opportunity, but believe it or not, life is pretty good for me without them.

Every day it seems I meet another guy at a better firm with a better physique – a better life (on paper at least.) And I can’t tell you the number of those guys who, in this profession obsessed with prestige, have tried, and occasionally succeeded, to make me feel like shit for it. But I can still count on one hand the number of lawyers I meet who don’t have that look in their eyes – the look that says that, deep-down, they are so miserable that they think about throwing themselves off the “tower” in which they work.

You might even be one of those guys. I mean, hell, there are certainly a lot of them (I say this both from personal observation and the statistics I keep reading about the legal profession suffering from the highest rates of alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicide). Anyway, I don’t know if what I have is better than those guys, but I do know that when I turn off my bedside lamp and lie in the darkness, I’m content – and I don’t think I would trade that for anything in the world.

My firm sponsors a fancy CLE dinner once a year. I don’t know how much the firm spends, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the event cost more than twice my annual income. This year, the firm brought in a former toxic-tort superstar turned judge to speak about professional courtesy among attorneys. The speaker was fine, but the continuing legal education (CLE) system is joke. The nature of law forces every attorney to be constantly aware of the changing legal landscape – we don’t need supplemental education. Further, these events are more about the sponsor firm impressing the attendees than presenting anything educational value. Why can’t we drop the charade and just have an exceedingly decadent party?

Attendance was mandatory but we were allowed to bring a guest. I was concerned about asking my girlfriend to come – I certainly wouldn’t attend if I had the choice. Surprisingly, the girlfriend was ecstatic to go. Something about getting dressed up and meeting my coworkers appealed to her.

The cocktail portion of the event went terribly. There was a cash bar, I had no cash. The GF bought me an $8 bourbon. I wasn’t overly interested in talking to anyone, but didn’t want to be anti-social. Forced conversation ensued.

Eventually, the dining room was opened. The six course meal was two courses too long. The wine was free and no matter how many times I emptied the glass, the waiter refilled it. I was fully drunk by the time the speaker took the podium. The speaker spent an hour telling us to not be an asshole to your opposing attorneys. I’ve never dealt with opposing counsel, but if I ever do, I wasn’t going to be an asshole – but at least I got my CLE credit.

Despite my idiotic drinking, my girlfriend enjoyed herself. She drove us home.

This week, for the first time in my (short) career, I represented a client in court. A series of fortunate-for-me, unfortunate-for-others events placed me at the top of the “Available for Court” list on Wednesday. This was the first time since beginning at the office that I found myself in this position. I was like a pitcher in the bullpen, anxiously waiting for the call to come in. Finally, around noon, I was called upon to sit second chair on a motion for dismissal. Our client was rear-ended by an eighteen wheeler and the truck’s lessor was trying to escape litigation. I didn’t actually do anything; it was very exciting.

Also this week, in more important news, I discovered Wii Sports. While trying to find something to do after dinner on Monday, the SO and I came across the game. When I purchased the Wii (a few months ago) I negligently tossed Sports to the side, in favor of the unsatisfying $50 games that the Gamestop clerk talked me into buying. The SO and I have played Wii Tennis every day since, working in the other games when we get bored.

As strange as it may sound, Wii Sports has significantly helped our relationship. I think the revelation that she makes more as a waitress than I do as a lawyer affected me more than I cared to believe. There were more than a few times over the past week where I was, for no good reason, a complete asshole. Now, though, as Wii Tennis doubles champions, with me saving the day in our last three matches – I no longer find myself threatened by the prospect of dating someone who makes more than me. Things are good…

I had, probably, a dozen people ask me to do their taxes this year – most offering $100-500. I declined all but one; not because I’m under-qualified or couldn’t use the money, but because I don’t want the responsibility that would come with any potential error. Who did I not decline? My girlfriend – modern day chivalry.

Doing my girlfriend’s taxes came with an unfortunate realization though – she makes more money than me. My base salary is $18,000 and I get a sliding scale commission on the cases I sign up. Last year, from September 1 to December 31, I made about $17,000 pre-tax. Multiplying this over 12 months, I should make about $51,000 a year. She out earns me by a few thousand. I’m proud of her – and very jealous. I spent seven years of my life in college and law school, she has about one year’s worth of community college credits. She’s a bartender, I’m an attorney. She would kill me if she found this post.

I know what you are thinking – I must have some sort of superiority complex thanks to my lengthy education. That isn’t it. My girlfriend is very intelligent, I have little doubt that she could have made it through law school as well. My problem is with the seemingly low return on my investment. I spent seven years and over $200,000 on my higher education, and not only does she make more than me, but she gets to keep 100% of her take home pay. Sallie May gets 39% of my paycheck. It’s obvious which one of us represents intelligent half of our coupledom.

If this post comes off as whiny, that isn’t my intention. I’m actually pretty happy I went to law school and I love my girlfriend immensely. I’ve only been in the workforce for 6 months and, theoretically, I have a higher salary ceiling. I have enough money to pay my bills and I don’t hate my job. I guess I can’t ask for much more…