Saturday, April 30, 2011

What it Takes to Tick Me Off

In dealing with my clients and some of the opposing parties, I need to develop the hide of a rhinoceros and try to keep as sense of humor. Recently I represented a Mr. Mudd in his request for a protection order against his ex-girlfriend, a Ms. Hay. The judge denied his request, and I didn’t even receive a brick for my troubles. I recently had a client who wanted d protection order against her ex who, she informed me, had given her a VD that would seriously affect the health of the two children they had together. I refrained from asking her why she was associating with such a man, and if he had received a note to philander from his wife.

Anyhow, last month I had just gotten my client her ex parte order form the judge when the news came out that five OSU football players were going to be suspended for five games for having violated NCAA regulations against accepting gratuities. My client started jumping up and down and clapping with excitement, proclaiming, “Goody goody, I’m a Notre Dame fan!” I thought to myself, I’m about ready to either strangle her or throw her out the courthouse’s 3rd story window, or both. Instead, I refrained, and did not even bother telling her that if she ever dreamed that she would qualify for admittance to ND, when she woke up she had better call Tedd Hessburgh and apologize. I also refrained from admonishing my client for a woman of her obesity should not jump up and down on any level above the ground floor—it might have dire consequences. I was grinding my teeth so hard I feared I might need to make an emergency trip to the dentist.

A few days later, that same client actually managed to **seriously** tick me off. I managed to get her consent degree from her former paramour and his girlfriend (which means eventually I will get paid) and at the last moment the new girlfriend insisted that the protection order include her unborn child who is due in a few more months. I was driving my client home when she proclaimed with the utmost vehemence, “I hope that baby dies!” At that point, I blew up. I yelled, “Sit down in the car and shut up. I do not want to hear **one** (expletive deleted) word out of you. I signed on to get you a protection order, and I signed on to driving you home, but I did not sign on to hear you use that kind of language on a newborn baby. Now if I hear one more word out of you I’m going to pull over and you can walk back.” She managed to say not a word on the way home. If I never see that hateful woman again it will be much too soon.

1 comment:


it's just a job old chap. No more than that. I realised many years ago that if you wanted the good opinion and gratitude of these people then quite simply you're not getting out enoiugh. They have nothing aspire to nothing and ultimately are worth nothing. Trying to civilise them is a bit like trying to nail jelly to the ceiling.