Hallelujah! The blog finally brings in a paying client!

I can't believe it! After nearly 18 months of blogging, during which I put up more than 600 posts, finally — finally — I have signed up a paying client that found me through my professional blog (not this one, obviously — my other blog).

This started coming together last Thursday, when I picked up a voicemail from someone who had come across my blog. Immediately, I knew this contact had potential, but I was afraid even thinking about that would jinx it. A couple of phone calls later, a couple hours brainstorming at the client's office yeserday afternoon, and . . . I was driving back to the office with a $5000 check in my briefcase.

I had just about given up hope, especially with a severe run of people looking for free legal services a couple of months ago.

Let's hope this new client is a sign of things to come!

A crushing realization: I'm on the dole.

I never applied for welfare.  That is, I never went to a government office and said I was out of work and needed money.  But I find myself on the dole nonetheless.

How?

The "Earned Income Tax Credit."  From the IRS website:

The Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) sometimes called the Earned Income Credit (EIC), is a refundable federal income tax credit for low-income working individuals and families. Congress originally approved the tax credit legislation in 1975 in part to offset the burden of social security taxes and to provide an incentive to work. When the EITC exceeds the amount of taxes owed, it results in a tax refund to those who claim and qualify for the credit.

In other words, I last year I had so little income that, notwithstanding substantial premature, taxable withdrawals from my IRA, my tax liability was still less than the EITC, and the government is giving me the difference. 

I was expecting to owe a lot in federal income taxes because not all of my premature contributions had tax withheld.  When my tax preparer told me last week (I had an extension) that I was going to get money, I asked how that was possible.  When he told me it was the EITC, I felt bad enough, but then he added: "That's highly unusual.  I only have one or two people a year that qualify for that."  Gee, thanks for making me feel worse!

Yeah, I know that a lot of people say that the EITC is not welfare because it goes to "working people."   In other words, they claim that because it's not simply doling out money to people without a job, then it's not welfare.

But it's the government giving me money because I'm in sorry financial shape.  It's hard for me to rationalize that away as just another "tax deduction."

As with most setbacks, I am going to try to turn this into a positive.  I've never had a motivator this strong, and you can bet that if I am ever as successful as I think I have the potential to be,  I will look back on this time as a driving force. 

The Rationale Behind the New Sidebar Header Photo

My wife has known about this blog almost since its inception, but I don't think she's ever read it. She knows it is therapeutic for me to get my thoughts down. But she's not that familiar with the overall tenor of the blog.

This weekend, I added the photo you see under the "About Me and this Blog" heading in the sidebar. My wife, sitting next to me on the sofa, where I was working on my laptop, noticed the photo.

"Oh, that's such a sad photo!" she said.

"It's a sad blog," I responded.

I think she may read it now.

On the brighter side, I've lightened up the blog.  No more black background, a little more color.  A little more cheery.

UPDATE (10/29/08):  Maybe I should have said this is a sad blog so far.

I Should Have Such Problems

A couple of weeks ago, a lawyer in Nevada named Tami Cowden ran a couple of posts on her Appealing in Nevada blog about the odd number of resources available to lawyers who want to transition out of practice.

In her first post, she wondered, do other professions act like this?

In her second, she hits on one of the reasons that lawyers get discouraged about practicing law, and puts it in personal terms when she writes: "[I]n my more cynical moments, I have described commercial litigation as working for wealthy people who can’t get along."

I think that is a very common sentiment among litigators, especially among associates in big law firms. I had the same feeling myself on occasion when I was an associate. I even had an associate from the adverse firm express that sentiment to me about the case in which we faced each other! So, like many lawyers, I thought at times that there simply had to be better uses of my time.

I acted on that impulse, but by going into a different area of law rather than leaving it entirely.

Now, of course, I long for a few well-heeled clients, no matter how inane their problems, as long as I could turn those problems into paying work. Trust me, all you associates complaining about how your work is not rewarding — it could be a lot worse. You could be in my shoes. That thought won't get you through thirty years of an unsatisfying career, but it should provide at least temporary solace. Perhaps it will at least keep your work from suffering or give you a more sober view of your options.

I'm not trying here to belittle the concerns of lawyers facing career dissatisfaction. Remember, I was once in your shoes. I'm just providing a little perspective.

By the way. Ms. Cowden's second post goes on to describe a particularly satisfying occasion, which is worth reading about.

Back Up and Running

One of the problems with a struggling practice (beside the obvious financial hardship) is that it causes one — or causes me, more accurately — to think from time to time that if I can just make it past — X being whatever obstacle I see in my way — then things will improve. There are a couple of problems with that approach.

I'll illustrate both problems by analogizing to my first (and, to date, only) century (100-mile bike ride), in which the course ran through the Sierra foothills (but it was not the California Death Ride, which would have been impossible for me). Suffice it to say that I finished, but that I wasn't in nearly the shape I should have been.

Now, to the problems.

First, X might not go away. Because the century course ran through the foothills, there were many twisty ascents, and the view around each curve was usually obstructed by evergreens, so you couldn't usually tell what was around the next turn, let alone how far it was to the summit. If I had a nickel for every time during that ride that I looked up in exhaustion and thought, "the summit has to be around the next curve" only to find yet another climbing turn in front of me, I would have been able to retire my student loan debt a few years early. What might not go away, or at least last far longer than you think you can stand in your practice? How about a lack of business, or perhaps some personal financial setbacks?

Second, even if the X is removed (or, better yet, overcome), that doesn't mean you have long to wait before you meet the next X. My relief at reaching each summit in the bike ride lasted just until I finished coasting back to the bottom, when it was time for the next climb. So, it's not necessarily going to be smooth sailing.

These thoughts are brought to mind by the fact that I finally replaced my computer and wireless internet card. That's one X out of the way . . . I no longer have to do a lot of work on my living room computer. And I cannot even being to convey how demoralizing that theft was. I really felt I was being kicked while I was down.

So, I'm wondering what my next X will be and when it will hit. Not in a sad sack, "poor me" sort of way, but in a "I want to be prepared" sort of way.

Whatever it is, it's nothing that more business can't help.

Please, Please Stop Asking Me for Free Legal Services

Image via Wikipedia I just can't stand it anymore. Since the exceptional low point nearly three weeks ago of having my computer stolen, at least six people have asked me to represent them for free. What gives? Why do you think I would do that? I'm barely scraping by here.

If you need free legal services, call a public service organization related to your concern or call your county bar association and see if they have a pro bono panel, i.e., a slate of lawyers willing to provide free representation in the right circumstances.

Stop calling me, unless you're prepared to pay a reasonable fee. I mean it. I'm beginning to feel like I have a "kick me" sign on my back. You're going to drive me insane.

To the Thief Who Stole My Computer

Around 5:30 a.m. on August 7 — I know the time from the alarm log — you broke the window to my office and pulled out my iMac, Fujitsu scanner, USB hub and wireless broadband card, and got away before response to the alarm arrived. Those items will cost me about $2,000 to replace.

I've waited this long to post because my feelings have vacillated over the last 20 days between wishing you had severed an artery when you broke the window to get in or that my iMac might accidentally fall into the tub while you're taking a bath (sinful thoughts, I know, and ones that I fight) and just trying to brush this off and carry on. My initial post contained both sentiments — ill will toward you and a defiant "you can't beat me, I will carry on" type of rah-rah BS.

I just don't know about the rah-rah any more. I've been struggling for years, I've been busting my ass nearly around the clock the last two months bringing in some fees for a change, I'm barely feeding my family, and around $20,000 in work recently melted away. I am hanging by a very thin thread — financially, emotionally, mentally. For a few days there, I was thinking that you actually did me in.

Then, some good news. It looks like the insurance company is going to come through with replacement value for everything. So, the struggle continues - even though I am currently using that money to live on and won't be able to replace the computer for a while.

I Wasn't Emotionally Prepared for My Move-Out

Well, you know that my lease recently ended.  And you know that I started with an office that was snazzier than I needed.  So, I should have been thrilled at the opportunity to downsize, and I was.

And yet, it has been a painful experience.  Packing up my office was a lot like those scenes you see in movies, where someone packs up the house they've always lived in, and every item they touch holds its own memory.  Except in those scenes, its almost always fond memories that are evoked.  In my real-life move out, the memories were almost all bad, about promise unfulfilled.

First, I was forced to face what a pack rat I've been.  All that paper!  most of which I didn't need and went straight into the recycling bin, where it should have gone months or years ago.

Them there was the substance of so many of those papers.  Lost opportunities.  Poor follow-up.  And in way, way too many cases, time wasted.

There were the memories of how excited I was to move into the office, certain of how impressed potential clients would be, and that I'd be making money within a year, two at most.  That unfulfilled expectation is really putting a damper on my hopes for the new place, though I know I have to learn from my past experience.

Anyway, those bad memories kept hitting me as I packed up the office, and it was really tough because my wife was helping me pack and our young daughter was there most of the day, too.  So it made me even more conscious than I usually am that those failures meant that I had failed my family.  Had I not been so busy with so much packing and moving to do, I don't know how long I would have dwelt on those thoughts.  As it was, thank God, I was so busy that I couldn't dwell on them.  Still, they were enough to stress me out, to make me short with my wife even as she was helping me.

Now that I think about it, this is a purely cathartic post.  Not much you can learn from it.  And I don't mean to scare anyone out of going solo.  But it this post instills a little fear in you, that's not a bad thing.