Don't Mess With the Help

Title aside, I don't usually describe my job position with words like "the help." But it is helpful to look through the lens of a legal outsider from time to time, and when I do so, I have to face the fact that many lay people who don't know any better see me as just that. Still, their opinions usually take the outward form of helpful condescension or unknowing patronization, and while my ego may get slightly scuffed, I can usually laugh it off. Until today.

A call came through the office with a very minor administrative question, which I was able to answer with no problem. However, when the caller began asking for legal advice, I began the "I can't answer that question, but I'll have my attorney call you back to discuss it" routine. I cannot count how many times I had to repeat that phrase. Somehow from there, and with little to no involvement on my part, the caller realized he was angry for something that I still could not help him with. He proceeded to take his anger out on me before hanging up furiously.

I was dumbfounded. A simple conversation with a simple answer had suddenly erupted into a bitter display of what seemed like unfounded anger. I admit I got a little self-righteously ticked off and may have forgotten myself for a moment and slammed the phone down on the receiver. When I took a few deep breaths, I decided to be the better woman. I called back only to receive voicemail after several rings. I left a message regarding our "disconnection" and let the caller know that I would pass his message onto the attorney.

Then I tattled, or at least, that's what it felt like. I ran through the entire conversation with the Boss because when you're in a two-person office and something silly or outrageous happens, you have to tell the other person. It's almost a rule.

The Boss was not happy... at all. I have only seen this side of him once or twice before, the "oh no you didn't" side that comes out when someone's actions toward me offend him. It's nice, really, working with someone who has my back. It's also strange and unexpected. I expected him to say, "That happens, now buck up and move on." Because that's what I tell myself. But instead he dialed the caller and made it clear that he had crossed a line. I think the caller may have even apologized by the end of the conversation.

At the end of the whole mess I was left with a bitter sweet feeling. On the one hand, it's nice to work for a person who respects me enough to make sure others treat me with respect. On the other hand, I was unable to fight my own battle, to say anything at all to this person who spoke down to me. In my position as the assistant, not being at all sure about anything this guy was saying, I could neither apologize nor explain. I could only tell him I would pass the message along to the Boss.

The lesson I learned throughout this inconvenient afternoon was mainly this: Don't mess with the help. More specifically, don't mess with a lawyer's staff. If he appreciates them, you will not win any points by belittling them.

All In A Day's Work

I've been feeling like Wonder Woman the past few days, though nothing exceptionally interesting or exciting has happened at the firm.

Well, I take that back. Interesting and exciting things have happened, though the very nature of the business means I can't tell you about it. Sigh. It's hard to write a blog about being a paralegal sometimes. I have to leave out all the juicy stuff.

Still, I've been drafting complaints and motions and petitions in a whirlwind of paper and bytes. But it amazes me that I have been so busy, and I am worried that the work is going to run out soon. November - January is our slow time at the office, and since the recession took a little longer to hit Alabama, this year I think it will be v-e-r-y slow. Perhaps I should have paced myself, but I am trying so hard to bill right now since the Boss always seems stuck in a meeting or out of the office for some reason or another.

It's not the Boss's fault though. Clients drop in unexpectedly needing to speak with him urgently. The phones are ringing off the hook right now, but so few of the callers are willing to speak with me, the paralegal. The Boss himself had to explain to a client that she could meet with me to pick up her estate planning documents if he wasn't able to be there when she planned on coming in. Though I had already told her this, she kept subtly insisting that the lawyer should be the one to hand her the documents. Sigh. In a way I don't blame them. It's hard for people, especially new clients who do not know us very well, to understand that I am not just the girl who answers the phones and greets them at the door. Because my desk is in the lobby of the office, though, I understand the misperception.

On a lighter note, we recently switched from using Lexis Nexis to using Westlaw, and as a result, we were given some free books. I'm excited because many of these books are full of forms... and for some reason I love forms. They state things ever so much better than I can with my simple words. They make petitions sound elegant and complex. My own writing is very straight forward and no nonsense. Sometimes I wish I had a softer rhythm and larger vocabulary. Then I remember that our judges in Baldwin County seem to favor substance over form any day. I am learning not to assume that all judges are like our Baldwin County judges, though. So perhaps the forms will help us in Mobile County court. Ah the diversity between the two counties' legal communities... but that is a topic for another day.

Words That Do Not Mix: Paperless Law Office

I keep reading about all these strange entities called paperless law offices. I try to imagine a place where you don't go digging through endless D's to find the John Doe file (or numbers, if that's how your firm's filing system works), but it is difficult.

Perhaps the first reason I have a hard time envisioning a paperless office is that my own office is very paper-full. We print everything, from the e-filed orders to drafts of motions for review. We make copies of everything that leaves the office. When I am researching case laws, I print out the cases to highlight the pertinent parts. We print emails from clients to place in their files for quick future reference.

Now, I understand that everything we choose to print could actually be saved to file, and we could scan all of our paper documents into the system. But that is impractical for a law firm with one lawyer and one paralegal and, at any given time, fewer than 100 active client matters. I would spend much of my day scanning documents. Some days would be completely shot.

But let's imagine that we had a third person who's job was only to scan documents and store them. While we're at it, let's imagine that my office also has enough electronic storage for the endless amount of data being shoved into the system. It would still be impractical for my firm to go paperless.

First, I must print out research material for the sake of my poor eyes. It is unhealthy to stare at a computer screen for hours of reading. I also have to highlight the relevant parts. Second, since we keep copies of everything that leaves the office, we keep copies of all signed letters. It seems impractical to print a letter, sign it, then rescan it into the system before sending it off. At least, in our office it is.

And if time and effort cannot be saved, then going paperless to save paper seems silly, too. In my office, we would still hit the print button. But without a file in which to save the newly printed paper, we would shred it when we were done. In our office, that is a lot of wasted paper. In a medium to large firm, I'm imagining a ton of wasted paper a month as lawyers and staff print hardcopies to read or pass around or for various other reasons then dispose of them only to reprint the next time they need to have a hard copy.

I could have it all wrong. Perhaps being paperless is great. It's probably the next best thing, for firms that have the staff, the time, and the money to do so. One look at the dwindling space in our small office will convince anyone that files take up precious space. I am sure large non-paperless firms have entire warehouses devoted to file keeping. At my firm, our closed files take up one small conference room and half a storage closet. And those constitute only four years worth of a new firm's cases. If we don't move into a bigger place or find safe storage for our closed files, we will drown in paper within five more years. So I completely understand the benefits of going paperless. I just doubt it is as without paper as it sounds.

Two Wrongs, But It'll Be All Right

I don't know why I focus on my mistakes, but I do. One simple, completely fixable mistake can ruin an otherwise perfect day for me.

Today, I realized that I have been making the same mistake over and over again. The clerk's office called to let me know that we had errantly filed an oringal Quitclaim Deed with a noncontested divorce package. "The attorney usually keeps the deed," she explained kindly, "and records it in Probate once the divorce is finalized." I was hesitant, but I accepted her offer to send it back to our office for safe-keeping.

The thing is, I remember a very specific conversation with the Boss from the first time I prepared divorce paperwork that involved a transfer of interest in real property. The settlement agreement referred to the "attached quitclaim deed" when addressing the conveyance. I clearly remember asking him if I should attach the original deed. I remember all of this because it didn't make sense to me to file the original with the other paperwork, but I wanted to make sure of what we needed to do. In this memory, the Boss explains to me that there is no recording fee for a Quitclaim Deed that is filed with a divorce package, so filing it with the divorce docs would basically kill two birds with one stone.

However, when I told the Boss about my conversation with the clerk's office, he merely said, "Yeah, the original stays here." I wanted to respond with "Are you absolutely sure?" I did mention that I remembered a conversation about this very subject during which he explained why I should attach the original deed. He looked at me with a blank expression. I felt lost, perplexed, and a bit ashamed. You see, I have filed not one, but two of these packages with an original deed attached. The Boss didn't seem to think of it as a major mishap. He simply suggested calling the court to retrieve the other original deed I admitted having filed. He warned that they might have already shredded it after scanning it into their system, but thank goodness the ladies at the clerk's office knew right where to find it. I will have both deeds back in a matter of days. (This goes back to being on good terms with the clerk's office. They were so patient and kind to me as I bumbled through this situation today.)

With the situation almost fully resolved, and with a new lesson learned, I still do not feel settled with this matter. I am uncomfortable with the strange memory of a conversation that may never have occurred. If the Boss were egotistical or the kind of guy who passed the buck, I would trust myself more. But he has never seemed to have a problem admitting his own mistakes. If he thought he had told me something wrong, he would say so. Thus, either he does not remember a conversation we did have, or I remember a conversation we did not have. I'm leaning toward trusting the memory of the person who has been working in this field longer than I, who obviously knows not to file an original deed with a divorce package. But I have a hard time letting go of the memory of a moment that I can almost see and hear.

No major harm having been done, I will have to let go and move on to tomorrow, where no doubt more imperfections and mishaps await. However, I will take two lessons with me as I go forward: Original deeds do not get filed with the circuit court - ever, that I know of - and I seem to have a very active imagination.