Once upon a time, there was a lawyer whose practice was reliant on one huge client. His junior associate made a mistake on the client’s file. The client demanded that the lawyer fire the associate. The lawyer refused to cast aside a young associate for having made one mistake. The client fired the lawyer. The lawyer lost his practice. The associate lost his job anyway.
Once upon a time, in a common law jurisdiction not that far away, there was a partner in a law firm who did what all good law firm partners do. He billed a lot. He brought in many clients. He trained the junior lawyers. He supervised the clerks. All in all, he was somewhat of a star. I will call him Earl.
Since I retired, I have entertained myself by writing about the legal profession, mentoring a few lawyers, and teaching some classes about business law. None of these are particularly remunerative activities.
Now and then someone suggests to me that I should write a novel, or at least compile my articles into a book. And sell it. And try to make some real money. My standard answer is that it sounds like work, and that I have no interest in working.
It is not that earning a few dollars would not come in useful. I long ago learned from my mother that ‘rich or poor, it is good to have money.’ And I am not rich. But nor am I poor. I think that I can get by without working, and I have every intention of finding out if I am right.
“Review this agreement and provide me with your comments” is usually the first introduction that young business lawyers are given to the topic of reviewing contracts and the sum total of the training that they receive about how to do it. So off we go and comment on the scourge of typographical errors, the horror of undefined terms, the frightening absence of the word “reasonable,” and of course, unforgivably sloppy cross-references.
Actually, there are a multitude of more important things to think about when you are reviewing contracts. One of them is how long the agreement is going to last, and that actually depends on three things. These are: (i) term; (ii) termination rights; and (iii) renewal rights.
There was once a law firm with a small corporate department consisting of a law clerk and one senior corporate lawyer who I will call Carl. The partners of the firm had tired of Carl’s antics so they hired a bright young corporate lawyer who I will call Martin. The idea was that if Martin was any good, they would tell Carl to shape up or ship out.
In my second year of practice, word processing was just becoming a thing.
My firm had fourteen lawyers but no word processor. Fred was the senior partner. I told him that we really needed one of those new-fangled machines.
Lawyers are avid fans of awards, so much so that they sometimes even pay to get them, which is a topic for another day.
I was thinking (because I have time to do that now that I am retired) that perhaps we should create a new award program which we could call the “Dumbies.” We can award a prize for the dumbest clauses that lawyers regularly insert into commercial agreements.
I hated partners meetings. Not because I did not like most of my partners. In fact, I quite enjoyed spending time with the majority of them. But there were always one or two…
After many years of contemplating why I disliked partners meetings so much, I developed a theory. Here it is.
I am not the handiest person in the world. In fact, my toolbox only has three tools in it, being a phone, a pen, and a cheque book. For this reason, I may not be the best person to be writing about hammers and nails. But I will anyway because I really want to use one of my favourite quotes.
Abraham Maslow wrote, “If the only tool you have is a hammer, it is tempting to treat everything as if it were a nail.”
I know absolutely nothing at all about Karate. I am about to prove that.
I had only one Karate lesson in my life. Actually, it was my young son who had the Karate lesson. I was along as part of one of those “Dad and Son” programs.