Back in the day, I think it was a Tuesday, my mentor told me not to write anything I would be embarrassed to see on the front page of the St. Louis Post Dispatch tomorrow. Granted, the Sunday Post used to hit your front porch like a big log rather than the flyer it is today but the adage remains true.
In fact, it is expanded and modernized now that everyone has a movie production studio in their pocket – don’t say or do anything you wouldn’t want to see on the interwebs by lunchtime. I was in trial recently and one of the lawyers on my opponent’s team hadn’t heard that saying.
My wife was in the courtroom. I was hesitant to invite her as her critiques hit harder than a negative jury verdict ever could. Blunt is her middle name, and she is as subtle as a brick through a window. Sometimes I would appreciate a little sugar coating but she is verbally diabetic.
She is naturally gregarious and was all around the room on Monday morning while the other trial lawyer and I dealt with Monday morning trial stuff. She talked to most everyone in the courtroom before settling in next to my client.
The extra defense lawyer either didn’t notice her or didn’t care. He sat next to an insurance adjuster, discussing the upcoming proceedings and the case generally. The adjuster had spoken to my wife previously and boasted about his accomplishments. He didn’t ask who she was or why she was in the courtroom. He didn’t perceive her as a threat when he spoke to his lawyer.
“Trial work isn’t exactly rocket science.”
“Not really. Trained monkeys could do it.”
“Is the Plaintiff’s lawyer as good as Lawyer So and So?”
“No. He is bombastic.”
My wife took note of the discussion, sitting a row in front of them. She is a tad hard of hearing so I know the conversation wasn’t private. Maybe they didn’t know how loud they were talking.
My wife grinned widely when she told me the story later. I did too.
Lawyer So and So is a friend and a very accomplished trial lawyer. The comparison was not an insult and I agree with the evaluation. I called to tell him about the exchange even before I got back to the office. I congratulated him on being the standard that trial lawyers are being measured by, and without missing a beat he said, “That is a low bar.”
It wasn’t true but his humility was. He is both talented and modest.
I also didn’t think being bombastic was an insult. Why be Brand X when you can be memorable? My feelings changed when I looked up the meaning of the word. It took a lot of web surfing to find even a slightly positive definition. I quit looking after I did. My positive connotation didn’t check out with the actual denotation. I should have known better. Looking up a word’s meaning is like checking health symptoms on Web-MD- I never feel well when I am done.
Perhaps my opponent didn’t know the meaning of the word either, I told myself. But even if he did, I don’t mind. Being underestimated can be useful. It never hurts to know what others think of you. Except to your ego.
To be fair, trial work isn’t rocket science. Neither is engine repair but I prefer a trained mechanic over someone watching a YouTube video with a wrench in their hand. I don’t want to have my car towed to a shop while I stand on the side of the road because someone goofed. There is no tow truck after a trial is over, and while the Court of Appeals can repair some mistakes, don’t count on them fixing a bad result.
A foundational quality of a good trial lawyer is the ability to respond to situations quickly, which requires constant observation. During trial, that goes beyond what is happening on the bench or in the witness chair. We learn more by watching than speaking. If one must speak, it pays to know who is listening.
©2023 With All Due Respect. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this publication or directly to him via email at farris@farrislaw.net. If you have something unkind to say about him, don’t say it in front of his wife.