This afternoon I am tired of fighting. You see, I woke up fighting. First was the irritating alarm clock. I won that one, I think. Then, I opened the bedroom door and one of the little dogs out maneuvered me and ran into the hall. A domestic loss. Downstairs the air conditioning was on, and our son was relaxing on the back porch, talking over life with his girlfriend, with the porch double doors wide open. I sat that one out.
Before leaving the house, I worked outside. I couldn’t get the pool vacuum on, and I didn’t understand the directions for the new chlorinator, which seemed to have been written by someone whose first language wasn’t English. Who knows? My first stop was my ex-wife’s house. We have a difference of opinion over certain issues. Those types of things will happen, but they aren’t much fun. Nobody won.
When I finally got to work, I called an opposing party’s local counsel about filing a UCC. She proposed different language than I suggested. I didn’t like her changes. Because the local counsel was not well versed on the facts, I suggested we have a conference call with the clients on the phone. I was sure we could resolve the wording. That would be a win-win. She told me the chief counsel – a fellow from a west coast firm – was on sabbatical for about three months, and she suggested that I should wait to file the UCC until he returned! I told her the UCC was necessary to protect my client, and I was not going to wait three months.
I suggested that an alternative would be for the clients to talk to each other without lawyers. She told me her client would not talk to my client without a lawyer – who was on sabbatical for three months. I told her that I was going to file my version of the UCC the next day. I’ll count that as a win, more or less. At lunch I visited my automobile repairman. I was previously quite content to drive my 25-year-old 3 series BMW until my new wife insisted on an upgrade to a 10-year-old Jaguar.
Ever since I was a teenager, admiring the classic XKE, I have thought that Jaguar makes the most beautiful cars on the road. They don’t, however, perform like BMWs.
In the almost six months I have owned the stately feline, she has gone into limp mode – in other words, broken down – five times (not counting today). I don’t want to reveal the name of my “go-to” pre-owned mechanic, so we’ll just call him “Felix from Frankfort.” Felix is very good at fixing German vehicles like my old BMW. I’m not sure if anybody is even adequate at fixing British vehicles.
You see, modern Jaguars are not repaired by looking under the hood, and grabbing a tool belt of socket wrenches, like ‘57 Chevys. They get plugged into a diagnostic computer, which outputs problems and inputs dollars for the repair shop. From my lawyer’s perspective, each and every time the car goes into limp mode, the same thing is broken. I just don’t know what it is. First, the beautiful Jag loses a little power, then the “Check Engine” light comes on. Next all the dash lights flash, and finally the on board computer tells the car to “limp” home – or back to the lair, in Jaguar lingo. Once it settles down, it reverts to normal driving, until the same series of events happens again. It’s like the car has malaria.
Each time I limp into Felix’s shop, he plugs the Jaguar in, runs a diagnostic, and after I output several hundred dollars, he assures me the “problem” is fixed. On at least one happy occasion, the bill was as low as $200. Today when I picked up the now “not so” beautiful Jaguar, the output was $1,700. That catches one’s attention. Remember, I was fighting all morning, and was not in a good mood.
Felix used methodical Ger-man logic to explain what had ailed the once proud Jaguar, this time. He detailed why the problem had been difficult to diagnose, and explained that he actually saved me $1,500 by securing hard to locate second-hand parts, then assured me this time the British cat was really fixed. I flashed back to the times my wives explained how much money they saved me by purchasing really expensive shoes and purses on sale. I never thought those were worth fighting over either.
You know, lawyers fight for a living, and we can fight with anybody. We can fight with car mechanics, with our partners, with our family, and even on occasion, we can fight with our clients. However, because we spend so much time fighting at our job, sometimes we would rather not fight outside the office. So, I gave Felix his $1,700, acted as if I believed his explanation, while fervently praying this time he was correct. I drew a deep breath, turned the key, and drove off.
Two blocks later, the car went into limp mode. That was not even a moral victory. Some days are just tougher than others. This weekend I’m going to kick back and relax. I’ll smoke a few cigars, have a little Port, play my guitar with some friends, and refuse to think about work or cats that keep pulling up lame. That’s a win. On Monday, however, I’ll be behind the desk, or in front of a Judge, arguing with 100 percent conviction for my clients. After all, that’s what we do.
©2011 Under Analysis LLC Mark Levison is a member of the law firm Lathrop & Gage LLP. You can reach Under Analysis LLC in care of this paper or by e-mail at comments@levisongroup.com.