In the original animated movie, “101 Dalmatians,” Pongo the Dalmatian watches pairs of dogs and their owners walk past his window. Each pair looks oddly similar: an afghan hound and its shaggy-haired owner; a pug and a round, short woman on the other end of the leash; a poodle and its similarly coiffed owner; and so on.
The movie must have made an impression on me when I watched it as a child, because even today, I compare dogs to their owners. Not only do I have that habit, but when making the leap to dog ownership three years ago, I have reflected that, subconsciously, vanity may have played a role in the selection I made.
The dog I selected is a Weimaraner. I must have done a good job picking her, because I am often stopped by complete strangers who gush about how beautiful she is.
It was kind of an aspirational selection: if dogs look like their owners, I definitely hope mine looks like me – or that I look like her.
My thoughts about dogs and their owners got me thinking. If every lawyer had a dog, what kind of dog would the lawyer have – and therefore resemble? Of course, this time I don’t mean just physical resemblance. For example, what type of dog should the typical labor or employment lawyer have?
A couple of months ago, I found myself reviewing an employment contract for a cousin of mine. It was the second time in a year for this cousin in particular, but with different employers.
The tone of the contract that confronted me was not surprising. The majority of employment contracts that I have read are very employer friendly, at least before the employee’s attorney becomes involved. They are usually written by either the employer or the employer’s lawyers. They are designed to protect the employer in case things turn sour, ensure the employer’s rights to manage the employee as it wishes, and provide the employer with additional rights it would not have had without the contract. In the case of my cousin, it was clear that both employment contracts were at one point fashioned by lawyers. I never met the lawyer that drew up the first contract my cousin received.
I am sure, however, that the lawyer’s dog was a burly, underfed, Rottweiler, with a little Doberman pinscher, and noisy terrier mixed in.
Negotiating an employment agreement takes finesse, no matter which side you represent.
After all, generally contract negotiation only starts once both sides have decided there is a good fit.
A one-sided contract presented unilaterally by an employer can quickly unravel a successful interview process if it is unfair. Similarly, unreasonable diva-like bargaining on behalf of an employee can make an employer run for the nearest exit. So, when giving my feedback on the contract, I had to be aware of those issues. In negotiating an employment contract, it is generally helpful if your dog is not a pit bull, or stricken with rabies.
When my cousin approached me for help with his second employment contract, with a new employer, I suppose neither of us should have been surprised.
If dog owners tend to resemble their dogs, maybe perhaps lawyers tend to resemble their clients. My cousin’s first employer turned out to be an aggressive, “I need to win, you need to lose” kind of person and was hard to work for. So, my cousin had moved on.
With the change of employers, came another contract to review. But this time, the lawyer who wrote the contract must have had a Labrador-Boxer mix – a protective animal, but one with which you can be friends. The contract was still employer-friendly – no surprise there – but it wasn’t overly so. This one wanted to play ball. This time, when I finished writing my comments on the contract, I added “Congratulations” to the end.
Clearly, the relationship between employer, its employer contract, and the lawyer who writes the contract is different than the relationship between an owner and his/her dog. The employer has the ability to give input on what the employment contract should say. Whereas, I might tell my dog a million times to stop digging in the yard without avail.
In addition, I find that when there is no language barrier between the employer and the lawyer crafting the employment agreement, things run more smoothly.
When it comes to owners and dogs, however, even the most Dr. Doolittle-like owner can never be really sure his or her point is getting through. Dogs just don’t like to follow directions. Although, the more I think of it, some clients aren’t that different.
Of course, the issue may be that in the client/attorney relationship, the client is the owner and the lawyer is the “dog,” with us doing their bidding and not vice versa – regardless of how much we wish it was the other way around.
After all, the client pays us, just like how owners give their dogs bones. The bottom line is that taking a moment to ponder what type of dog your client or your opposition presumes you own is probably a good practice tip.
It’s always good to be aware of your reputation, and to guard and manage your reputation consciously when engaged in law practice.
Asking yourself what type of dog people presume you own, is a way of asking yourself what breed of lawyer you are; which, in turn, helps you consider what breed of lawyer you aspire to be.
One other thing: regardless of what type of “dog” you choose to be, don’t eat your clients’ money. They will stop giving it to you if you do.
© 2011 Under Analysis LLC, Michelle St. Germain. You can reach Under Analysis LLC in care of this paper or by e-mail at comments@levisongroup.com.