Am I the right attorney for you?
I recently had a bit of a culture clash where a client decided I was not the right attorney for her. At the end of the day, I have to respect that, but I think any reasonable business person has to question what they’re doing/how they’re doing it when they lose business based on their most important commodity – themselves.
I’m sure you’re asking what atrocity I committed to make her want to part ways. But this post isn’t about that particular situation. It’s about how I work and whether or not that style is the right fit for you. There was a comedian who became famous for his, “You might be a redneck if…” jokes. I’m going to take a page out of his book and say, “You might not like me as your attorney if…”
- You want me to wear a suit everyday. Look. It’s the 21st century. The tradition that attorneys are part of the lower gentry (that’s where “Esquire” comes from) and as such should dress the part is rooted in ancient English social hierarchy. We literally fought a war over this, people. I’m not better than you. You’re not better than me. If you see me in a professional context, I’m not going to be wearing a T-shirt, but I’m going to be dressed as I see fit. Obviously, in court I’ll wear a suit and tie, but otherwise, formal dress can sink to the bottom of the harbor with those crates of tea.
- You want me to talk to you like I’m a thesaurus. I have a Juris Doctor degree from a fantastic HBCU and a Bachelor of Arts from what many think is the best public university in our country. I read voraciously. I’ve been practicing law, particularly personal injury law, in North Carolina for over two decades now. My vocabulary is fine. I know all the big words I need to know. But I’m never going to talk to a client like I’m a lecturer. I talk to my clients like we’re both people, in a way that’s clear and concise, and without the unnecessary formalization or sesquipedalian use of $5 words. If you expect me to sound like the actors on Law & Order, you’ve got the wrong lawyer (and the wrong practice area, but whatever).
- You insist on phone calls for communications. This one is negotiable, particularly if you have a disability or other circumstances that warrant an exception. But for the most part, I embrace 21st century technology. Email is by far the best way for us to stay in touch. It’s immediate. It allows me to explain complex issues with space and nuance. And it’s trackable; you’ll always be able to go back to old emails I’ve sent in case you have questions about what we’ve discussed. Phone calls and letters are simply not efficient. They’re also totally unnecessary when you have easy access to the internet and eyes that work just fine. Once again, if you have a disability or no easy internet access, we can work around that, but in general, I’m going to be an email guy.
- You expect in-person meetings. One would think that after that little pandemic thing we all just went through that in-person meetings would have finally been taken off of the list of reasonable expectations. The internet has summed this position up succinctly as, “That meeting could have been a phone call, and that phone call could have been an email.” Precisely. There is – and I mean this in the most adamant of terms – absolutely no reason for me to meet with clients in person on the average personal injury claim. The wonders of email allow us to communicate and track that communication beautifully. When it’s time to sign stuff, the mail can get you things far more efficiently than any cumbersome in-person meeting can. Moreover, I’m reminded of another article I wrote about in-person meetings. Sometimes people want to prove to themselves I’m a real person. Really?! Really!? Call the NC Bar. I’m real. Ain’t no fake lawyer paying bar dues and keeping up with CLE. But here’s the real kicker that you’re probably not aware of: Around 30% of people who insist on in-person meetings with me FAIL TO SHOW UP. That’s right. One THIRD of people who insist that the only way they can communicate this one particular issue to me is to see me face to face and will take nothing less than a meeting with me, which requires me to block off an hour of my day (and dress better…ugh) AND post-pone other work for clients who aren’t being difficult or picky, DON’T EVEN BOTHER TO SHOW UP. You can tell by my all-caps how I feel about that.
- You don’t like children’s art. First of all, you don’t need to be in my office anyway. See the points above. But if you are ever invited into the inner sanctum, know that I celebrate my children’s art by putting it all over my office walls. If you are the type of soulless monster who doesn’t appreciate the art of children, or understand why a father would proudly display it, then we probably don’t need to be talking anyway.
Am I the best fit for you and your needs? I hope so. But if anything I’ve written above offends your sensibilities, then we’re probably not meant to work together and you’ll be better off with a stuffy old person practice that better conforms to your pre-existing yet ill-informed notions. I like me and I like the way I practice. The greatest compliment I receive is when a client tells me, “You don’t seem like a lawyer.” Perfect. Nobody likes lawyers (or the pre-conceived stereotype of a lawyer) anyway. I’m proud of what I’ve done in the past two decades and my Google Reviews show my clients are fans, too. While I like to please anyone who hires me, it’s a good reminder that I can’t please everybody, and that’s something we all have to accept.
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