Ever since the big storm a few weeks ago there has only been one way in and out of the valley I live in. Normally, there are 3 1/2 routes. I usually take the 1/2 route, which is a back road now blocked by a mudslide and downed power lines. The one road that is open is only two lanes and has regulated speeds through the construction areas so it's at a long commute with lots of time spent just plain stopped.
In the mornings, I take as many back roads as possible to join the procession. By the time I meet the bottleneck there are only about four miles to go until I hit the four-lane open road. Of course, at 7:30 a.m., my average speed for the four miles is about 7 mph, give or take a cut-off or two. Like everyone else in the valley, I can live with it and have adjusted accordingly.
What really gets me is the drive home. For the past few weeks I have been loitering in town - at friends' houses, or shopping, or going to the movies - anything to avoid the two hour, 25 mile, drive home. While I appreciate all the hospitality of my friends, sometimes a gal just wants to get home after work and put her feet up on her own coffee table. So a couple of days last week when I chose to brave the traffic in order to get home in time for Jeopardy I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to cut the usual commute in half by merely following the rules of the road.
It's nine miles from the main highway, 101, to my house. The road into the valley, Highway 33, is four lanes of actual highway for five miles, then reduces down to two lanes for the next four miles. Right where it turns into two lanes is where a lot of the flood damage occurred. That is where the construction zones are and where people begin to drive like idiots. What is it about slowed traffic and road signs that causes people to lose all driving skills? I have seen more accidents in that strip in the past three weeks than I have in the six years I've lived there. It amazes me that people can get into accidents while traveling 4 mph.
Anyhow, up to that point, for about five miles, you have four lanes - two each direction. When I first decided to try to go home at 5:00 last week I headed up the highway. About two miles up I ran into a string of cars basically parked in the left lane, politely waiting their collective turns to enter the bottleneck. These people were chatting on cell phones, singing along to music and sitting fairly patiently. They had accepted their plight. I, on the other hand, had run out of peak minutes for the months and just wanted to get home.
The right lane was wide open and I sat in the left lane for a moment contemplating taking the right lane, wondering why no one else was taking it. I weighed whether it was polite, or proper to take it. I felt a twang of guilt about the other folks waiting so patiently. Then, I took it. I drove in the right lane all the way up to where the lanes merge, obeying all the traffic rules, and then merged in. I was in disbelief that those people would just sit three miles back, stacked up for hours, when there was a completely legal lane to take. Where a moment before I had felt I might be doing something bad by taking the open lane, I soon realized the people waiting were not following the rules of the road and my guilt turned to contempt that those folks opted to sit in line for miles when there was a perfectly legal option available.
For the past few nights I have been doing the same thing. I have noted the same people sitting in their SUVs and sedans in the left lane each day as I whiz past. Perhaps they enjoy the time alone, it's an excuse to sit an think, or listen to music, or chat with an old friend. It may afford them exactly what they need in their busy lives - a little time in first gear. Each day I wonder if they will ever catch on and get home sooner, or if I am the one who hasn't caught on by rushing past.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Friday, January 07, 2005
The Cartel
I spent yesterday cooped up in a conference room in LA with six other lawyers, a witness and a court reporter.
Yep, it was a deposition. The witness was favorable to our side so it wasn't so bad in that respect. What was bad was that it was, as are many things lawyers do, a complete waste of time and money.
The case is basically about a rich guy who is having a big, custom house built. The original contractor sucked. A couple of the original subcontractors sucked. The owner of the house is a billionaire who likes things done his way. Problem is, the contractors put the foundation in the wrong place on the property and messed up a bunch of retaining walls and stuff. Oh, and they crashed a truck that caused a diesel spill that contaminated some old oak trees that later died and the city required replacement of. Owner fired the contractors and was willing to let it all slide, until everyone started suing him. So he sued back. Those events, plus a few more, led to my having to sit for seven hours and listen to six grey-haired lawyers grill a witness who couldn't remember a darn thing because it all happened years ago.
As I sat there I played a round of last-man-on-earth. You know the game, where the fate of humankind depends on you and one of the men (or women) procreating because the world has just been obliterated by something. You have to choose among the group before you. I often play this game in my head when I am bored. And you would think that with six male lawyers to choose from it would be easy. Not true, my friend. These guys were insurance and big firm, high hourly lawyers - the worst of the lot. Minimum age was 50, each in an ugly polyester suit, chips the size of pallets on their respective shoulders, and complete disdain for the little blond defending the rich guy from across the table. Needless to say, I weighed the options and decided humankind was due for extinction.
Still bored, and now depressed at the fate of humanity should the world end in the next few hours and only this conference room in a building in LA be spared, I proceeded to calculate the total cost of the day to all parties involved. Given that some of the attorneys are insurance attorneys and others private, I calculated the average hourly rate of $200 per hour. Times seven lawyers. Times seven hours. Plus the cost for the court reporter all day ($1500). Plus travel time for everyone involved (1 hour each). With these conservative numbers the tally was at least $12,700. One of the claims was less than that!
During the afternoon break one of the lawyers, for the low value claimant, no less, came to me with his feathers all ruffled and proclaimed that my client was a multi-millionaire and should just pay these guys to end it all right now. I responded that one of the great things about having lots of money is that you can have lots of principles and stick by them. The lawyer didn't like my response. After that, all afternoon, everytime he looked at me I just smirked. It was really pissing him off. When he was done questioning the witness and another lawyer started asking the questions, that lawyer tried to have a staredown with me. I won and then he just leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Dumbass. He's a fifty-something man in a polyester suit spending tens of thousands of his clients' money fighting over a few thousand dollars that he didn't earn.
This entire day reminded me that I wasn't a member of a profession, a cartel. I admit, I stole that term from Volokh. You should read his post on the Lawyer Cartel for another dose of disillusionment with lawyers.
Yep, it was a deposition. The witness was favorable to our side so it wasn't so bad in that respect. What was bad was that it was, as are many things lawyers do, a complete waste of time and money.
The case is basically about a rich guy who is having a big, custom house built. The original contractor sucked. A couple of the original subcontractors sucked. The owner of the house is a billionaire who likes things done his way. Problem is, the contractors put the foundation in the wrong place on the property and messed up a bunch of retaining walls and stuff. Oh, and they crashed a truck that caused a diesel spill that contaminated some old oak trees that later died and the city required replacement of. Owner fired the contractors and was willing to let it all slide, until everyone started suing him. So he sued back. Those events, plus a few more, led to my having to sit for seven hours and listen to six grey-haired lawyers grill a witness who couldn't remember a darn thing because it all happened years ago.
As I sat there I played a round of last-man-on-earth. You know the game, where the fate of humankind depends on you and one of the men (or women) procreating because the world has just been obliterated by something. You have to choose among the group before you. I often play this game in my head when I am bored. And you would think that with six male lawyers to choose from it would be easy. Not true, my friend. These guys were insurance and big firm, high hourly lawyers - the worst of the lot. Minimum age was 50, each in an ugly polyester suit, chips the size of pallets on their respective shoulders, and complete disdain for the little blond defending the rich guy from across the table. Needless to say, I weighed the options and decided humankind was due for extinction.
Still bored, and now depressed at the fate of humanity should the world end in the next few hours and only this conference room in a building in LA be spared, I proceeded to calculate the total cost of the day to all parties involved. Given that some of the attorneys are insurance attorneys and others private, I calculated the average hourly rate of $200 per hour. Times seven lawyers. Times seven hours. Plus the cost for the court reporter all day ($1500). Plus travel time for everyone involved (1 hour each). With these conservative numbers the tally was at least $12,700. One of the claims was less than that!
During the afternoon break one of the lawyers, for the low value claimant, no less, came to me with his feathers all ruffled and proclaimed that my client was a multi-millionaire and should just pay these guys to end it all right now. I responded that one of the great things about having lots of money is that you can have lots of principles and stick by them. The lawyer didn't like my response. After that, all afternoon, everytime he looked at me I just smirked. It was really pissing him off. When he was done questioning the witness and another lawyer started asking the questions, that lawyer tried to have a staredown with me. I won and then he just leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Dumbass. He's a fifty-something man in a polyester suit spending tens of thousands of his clients' money fighting over a few thousand dollars that he didn't earn.
This entire day reminded me that I wasn't a member of a profession, a cartel. I admit, I stole that term from Volokh. You should read his post on the Lawyer Cartel for another dose of disillusionment with lawyers.
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