Settled-ish

My case is settled. Well, settled-ish. Bottom line is that I am not going to trial. HURRAY!

I feel better, now.

I might need to put some happy music on.

LM

TRIAL, or, Recipe for a Meltdown of Monumental Proportions

Technically speaking, I am a civil litigator. A litigator (not to be confused with "alligator" har-har, silly lawyer joke) is the type of lawyer who takes issues to trial.

But, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: Despite what the folks in TV Land want you to believe, trials don't happen all that often.

I'm not speaking for criminal attorneys or prosecutors, who DO seem to have trials with regularity (although not so often as they do on Law & Order as near as I can tell.) But, when I run into friends or acquaintances who are criminal defense attorneys, they can utter the words, "I have a trial next week" in the same tone of voice that they might say, "I have a doctor's appointment next week and I'm not really looking forward to it."

However, when civil litigators have a trial, well, let's just say that, in my experience, they are running their hands through their hair, talking to themselves and possibly chain-smoking.

I have A LOT of hearings. I have hearings in housing or family court several times a week. A hearing is much less formal than a trial. There is no jury, there are no trial briefs, no witness lists, just usually one person testifies to something (for example: "I own this house and I rented it to this guy and he stopped paying me two months ago" and the other side testifies, "It's true I stopped paying him, but, I lost my job") and then usually we get a decision right on the spot, and that's the basic day-to-day legal work I do.

And in much of the other work that I do, I win on motions for default 85% of the time (this is where the other side doesn't even respond to the Complaint I filed with the court, so, I file a motion saying, essentially, "Hey! I showed up at the basketball court and I brought my ball and I was ready to play, and they STOOD ME UP. So, please rule in my favor so I can take my ball and go home."), and, for the last four years I have won on summary judgment the other 15% of the time. (This is where the other side answers, and then I file a motion in response to their answer that says, "Hello! Judge! There are no real legal issues here! Please rule in my favor!) (Um, obviously, I am over-simplifying this process).

BUT.

But but but, I am involved in a stupid case on the other side of the state, and I have LOST on summary judgment and my client did something to shoot itself in the foot (my client being an entity and not a person), and it looks like it is going to TRIAL (like, TRIAL, an actual trial, with all the trappings entailed in that) in TWENTY DAYS, and as I realized the implications of that yesterday, I had to shut my office door and put my head between my knees for several minutes and then I went into the Ladies' Room and contemplated vomiting for a good long while after that.

And then I went into the office of one of our partners and shut HIS door and had a minor (er, major) panic attack (which would have been a poor career move on my part except that this particular partner also happens to be my uncle, so, it was okay) , and he had some ideas which he is floating to the client right now, which may help avoid TRIAL! and I've got to say that I hope he makes this work, because, HOLY CANOLI I do not want to have to have a TRIAL. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STATE.

Just arranging daycare for me to be on the other side of the state for even two days is a logistical nightmare. And this just isn't something I do. EVER.

I wasn't able to sleep last night and I am all anxiety-riddled.

Here is another dirty little secret: I hate conflict.

You are laughing hysterically and mumbling, man, she is in the WRONG business. A lawyer who hates conflict? That's insane!

And you may be right. I may be crazy. (But, I just may be the lunatic you're looking for). (Sorry, musical interlude to lighten the mood.)

I hate conflict, and I am pretty good at avoiding it, and when I have to face it head on (usually in divorce court) - I face it head on and then I go back and close my office door and hyperventilate. (It's not a great coping system, but, there you go...)

Hoping the more experienced attorney can work some magic and make this trial go POOF! But, not holding my breath...

LM

A Cautionary Tale, aka Do Not Put All Your Eggs In One Basket

I have done a rather stupid thing.

And that stupid thing is this: I put almost every document relating to Lana's identity in ONE burgundy plastic expandable file folder.

The exception to this is her US passport, which, just by happenstance, is in an envelope with our plane tickets for our spring break trip. (And until the tickets came, her passport was in there, too.)

The burgundy plastic file folder is THE ONLY PLACE I had her social security number. (The file folder also contains 3 copies of her social security card, but, fat lot of good having a copy does if it is sitting with the original.)

This morning, for about 4 hours, I thought the burgundy file folder had been stolen from my car, and let me tell you, I honestly about lost my mind.

I KNOW better than this. I DO.

I give people LEGAL ADVICE for a LIVING, you can guarantee that I would never advise any client to keep all important documents in one place with no copies anywhere else.

SO WHY WOULD I DO THAT TO MYSELF??

So, for a few minutes I sat and thought about how I would reconstruct Lana's life - how I would put the pieces back together so that she would have an adoption decree, a birth certificate, a social security card, a certificate of citizenship.

I called the clerk at Probate court who handles all the adoptions, and she told me that they would be able to produce a certified copy of the final adoption decree (from my state, of course, but not from Vietnam), and my adoption agency said they could get me a copy (though not certified) of her Vietnamese adoption documents.

To reconstruct her life's documents would take time and money, and I am kind of desperate to get my taxes done. And to do that, I need her social security card.

When I called social security to see if they would tell me what the number is, they said, "we cannot give a parent the social security number for their child until they give it to us first."

Huh?? (She has got to be kidding me, right?)

So I said, "if I had the number, I wouldn't need YOU to give ME the number."

"Yes, I know, but, that's our policy ma'am."

I said, "What do I have to do to get the number?"

"Fill out form F-5 requesting a new card." she says.

"Form F-5 requires that I KNOW the number. I don't know the number."

We went round and round for 5 minutes. She tells me I should have written the number down in more than one place. (Thank you very f**king much. I needed that advice. Or rather assvice.)

She keeps saying that she cannot give me the number until I give her the number first. I want to strangle her.

Finally, I say, "would you PLEASE tell me what I have to do, if I have NO DOCUMENTS relating to my daughter's identity, how do I get her social security number?" (This was a stretch of the truth since I did have her passport.)

She hems and haws and says that I have to go in person to the social security office and take any documents that I can find, including any school records and medical records, and if I have "enough proof" they will help me out, in person.

I was thinking that I was going to have to leave work tomorrow afternoon and take her passport and the replacement adoption decree and beg the people at social security office to tell me what her social security number is. (Which, frankly, as her parent, I think I should be entitled to be told if I can show that she is my child, but, I don't really have high hopes about what might have happened.)

The good news is that, when Husband got home, he found the burgundy file folder in our computer room. Evidently, I must have brought it in from my car myself. (Smacks self in head).

So, I'm off to do my taxes. And put copies of all the important documents in about 3 separate places.

LM

Is it ironic?

Does anyone else think it is a little bit ironic that a lawyer (uh, me) should be laid up with whiplash because she was rear-ended by an uninsured driver while sitting in stopped traffic IN FRONT OF THE COURTHOUSE??

I mean, a rear end collision and whiplash and a lawyer....could there be three more stereo-typical elements to a story??? I am SOOOO unimaginative with my misadventures.

So, this afternoon, I was innocently having a fine lunch of arayis halabi at a little Lebanese place by the courthouse with my Girlfriend S~. It was freezing outside, so, after we ate, I asked S~ to give me a ride back to my building, as she had driven to restaurant and I had walked, and she had managed to score a primo parking spot directly in front of the restaurant. (Practically unheard of good fortune.)

As we drove by the courthouse, the car in front of us stopped to let a passenger out - this happens all the time as there is very little convenient parking by the courthouse. Anyway, the point is we were coming to a stop because the car in front of us was stopped.

I don't remember what happened next. S~ says I was leaning forward and looking down into my purse when the car behind us smashed into us. I think I hit my head on the dash, although I don't know. (And I shouldn't have hit my head on the dash, because I was buckled in.)

The next thing I remember was asking S~ what happened. She said, "call 911 and tell them we were hit and that you hit your head."

So, I called 911 and told them we had been hit from behind, that it was not a bad accident but I had hit my head. And the 911-lady said someone would be there in a minute. In the meantime, the guy who hit us DROVE AWAY.

S~, who was clearly thinking more clearly than I was, started saying the guy's license plate over and over. And I remembered that I had the cell number for a divorce client who is also a sergeant in the sheriff's department in my cell phone memory.

I called my client, who was on duty, and I told him I was in front of the courthouse and that I had been rear-ended and that I hit my head and would he write this number down before I forgot it. And I gave him the license number that S~ was repeating.

So, my client says, "are you okay?" and I said, "my head hurts" and I think I hung up the phone.

And two minutes later, there were two fire trucks, a police car, an ambulance and a sheriff's deputy around our car, and they strapped me to a board and put me in the ambulance because I was "confused and complaining of head and neck pain." (And I also I told them I was 2 years younger than I actually am, and I wasn't intending to lie about my age.)

Five minutes later the sheriff's department picked up the guy who had left the scene of the accident. (To which I say, if you save a sheriff's department sergeant's pension from their ex-wife, you can, at a minimum, anticipate that they will come through for you if you are rear-ended in their jurisdiction.)

So, I spent six hours at the hospital, being x-rayed and CT scanned and, except for some confusion and nausea and aches and pains, I guess I am going to be okay. Mild concussion and whiplash...I have strict instructions to stay in bed for 2 days.

So, I'm typing on my back...which is quite a talent...

LM