I'm a little slow today. I just switched to Sanka. So...have a heart?

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Don't call me "Counselor."

I've only come across this twice so far, but each time someone refers to me as "Counselor," my left eye starts twitching.

I have no explanation for this. I don't know why it bothers me so much. Maybe, because right now, I'm in no position to "counsel" anyone. I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing, a point driven home by my boss's leaving me as "Sole Office Lawyer," and the resulting shitstain on my chair. Being a lawyer is hard and annoying, and it's even harder and more annoying when you're supposed to be getting things done, but have no real authority to get said things done, or negotiate said deals, and when you're suspicious that every other lawyer on the opposing side is pushing for something that will, by the very minutest detail, will my ass slapped with a malpractice suit.

But I digress --

Don't call me counselor. It's condescending, and, as a fresh-faced 25-year-old, I'm not your counselor. I'm your attorney, or I'm your opposing side's attorney. I can research the law for you and I can draft agreements and complaints and responses and requests for production, and other assorted pleadings for you. I can evict you, or your tenants. I can write nasty letters. I cannot, however, counsel you.

I can't give you advice -- well I could but it would be none that you'd want, anyway. Especially when you're 40 and I'm 25. Or older. Or slightly younger. I don't have a clue of what's going on! Know what I did? I grew up in an upper-middle class household, I went on vacations to Europe, and I, at times, blew an ex-roommate's entire semester's worth of rent money on liquor and Diesel Jeans when Diesel Jeans were the only designer jeans out there. Afterwards, I sulked that I couldn't go to Cozumel, because I had to work over spring break to make back the money I spent! I went directly from a high-school filled with privileged children, to a large state university, where, once again, I lived with extremely privileged children, and we all sulked and whined about how hard everything was when we couldn't buy a new TV set because we had spent all of our money at the Angelic Brewing Company or Magnus, or on lots and lots of pot. From there, I went directly to a mediocre law school in a vapid, sprawling, and cultureless city, where a ripped stomach is valued more than higher education. Oh, sure I lived in Spain for six months, and oh, sure I took a couple art history classes in College. But other than that, most of the jobs I've ever had have been internships through connections, or have been internships where I can spin them to sound like I did something important or interesting, but mainly, I bullshitted with other people and surfed on the internet.

You can call me Mr. [Last name here], or you can call me Sir, or you can call me "That Attorney" or "That Young Man" or "That Lawyer" or "Counsel for the Plaintiff" or you can call me Esquire McEsquireyson. Don't call me Attorney [Last name here] or Lawyer [Last name here] or Counselor. Because for as smart as I am, and as many experiences as I've had, none of them translate into any business acumen or credibility for me.

Mentally, I'm a 20-year-old with an advanced degree and the same sour, spoiled disposition I had when I was 19, and when something got hard, the easiest thing was to as my parents to do it for me.

Now that I've finished venting, I'll get back to drafting your Mortgage and Promissory Note for Millions of dollars. And thanks for having confidence in me!


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