A RADIO ORPHAN ANNIE BARRISTER OF APPARENT DISCERNMENT

Over the course of a long and (possibly, though doubtfully) distinguished legal career, I have witnessed, though not necessarily appreciated, staggering changes in the law business.  I started law school in the late 1970s.  At that time, a lawyer could look back 40 years and say that the biggest developments in the running of a law practice were the electrification of the typewriter and the invention of “white out”.   

Things began to accelerate a bit during law school with the introduction of the copy machine: copies cut from a roll of glossy paper that would curl at both ends forever.  During my second year, Wayne State installed its first Lexis terminal in a special room in the law library.  I was afraid to touch the thing lest I cause a power outage in all of midtown Detroit (not midtown with a capital M back then).

After graduation came the fax machine, and in the blink of an eye, to me anyhow, it is now 2019.  Tech now controls the day to day life of a lawyer.  I used to wait in line to use one of the 3 pay phones on each floor of the City County Building-one of which was in an actual phone booth.  Now I can get phone calls, texts and emails on 3 different devices I carry either on my person, or in a very small briefcase.  No need to carry the standard, firm-issued catalog case to court.

In recent years the “client acquisition” part of the business has changed at a pace that would make even a software designer dizzy, though the results may not exactly have achieved the survival of the fittest.

TV ads, billboards, websites, targeted internet ads and search engine optimization are among leading avenues of attorney self-promotion (legal methods, that is), which were either unknown or not invented, a few short years ago.

My discussion today will focus on only one, perhaps minor part of the attorney aggrandizement game that I find both irritating and amusing.  And that is the “Best, Great, Top, Super” lawyer industry (hereinafter the “BGTs”).  It appears to be a fairly lucrative business for those bestowing “honors” on the limitless supply of recipients.

Most would assume that the recognition of BGTs follows a painstaking evaluation by a select committee of local experts and overachievers in the field.  The award would most often come with some sort of plaque, probably a testimonial event, and perhaps even a monetary award.  A Nobel recipient gets $1.4Million with his award, and I am sure a lot of BGTs would consider that a lot of Pazoozas. The recognition would come at no cost to the recipient.

Awardees do not generally nominate themselves for their honors.

Not so in the BGTS industry, each version of which extends recognition in all 50 states.  And recognition is bought and paid for, and must be renewed, that is paid for (again) annually.  A Nobel recipient may be one for life, but BGTs remain so only so long the rights and privileges are paid for.

While anyone is free, apparently, to nominate a lawyer other than themselves to be named a BGTS, few, I would imagine, would be willing to pay the freight for a single year’s selection, much less the continuing subscription.  A potential nominator may be a bit sheepish in nominating an attorney if the designation would require a yearly monetary investment.  “I think he/she is a BGTS right now, but if I don’t pay every year, she/he may think I don’t think he/she is a BGTS anymore.  She/he might feel bad.  Maybe I’ll just get him/her an Olive Garden gift card.”

No, I expect most BGTS recipients nominate themselves, or are nominated by their firm.  That little emblem on the email signature block, the firm letterhead and website are valuable, many believe, and those folks are willing to pay someone to tell them how great they are.

I have found my own method for dealing with this issue, which I will describe later in the piece. 

Personally, my most recent invitation to become a BGTS lawyer came in the spam folder of my work email account at 9:51am on two Saturdays ago.  I am sure notification of most significant honors come in this manner.  In fact, this may explain why Bob Dylan didn’t appear for his Nobel Prize ceremony.  He has admitted that he has always been very bad at monitoring his spam email folder.  I am sure he would have loved to have used the Nobel medallion on all his social media pages (if he has any). 

Anyway, I could nominate myself to be considered for acceptance as an “Attorney of Acuteness”* (there’s a shock).  Now, to be fair, there appears to be a screening process, though it is not described.  They did ask for my name and address, and firm website address along with my payment of $475 for my first year of honor (if accepted).  However, it seems that most prospective honorees have historically opted for the Distinguished Attorney of Acuteness yearly nomination fee of $775, which includes the all-important right to use the AoA logo and trademarked material for the honoree’s website and marketing.  Which is really the point of the whole exercise.

As I haven’t been called “a cute” attorney since I lost sight of my thirties in the rear view mirror of life, I was tempted to submit my nomination.  However, I wasn’t really ready to cough up the $475 or more popular $775 to have my application considered.  To be honest, seeing an app from a lawyer of my vintage who had never actually had his license revoked (at least as of the time of opening my mail on yesterday), I don’t think the AoA folks could grant my application, and process my payment, fast enough.  There would be no opportunity to repent my payment, I mean application, in leisure.

By the way, fellow Michiganders, the AoA application did not ask for my P number (nor does that number appear on my firm’s website).

In the end, I completed the application, but didn’t submit it.  30 seconds of time I’ll never get back.

Earlier in this piece I had indicated that I had developed something of a work around.  It gives me most of the benefits of a BGTS designation, with no initiation fee, nor any continuing “maintenance” costs.  And, I daresay, it provides me with one of the most impressive-looking signature blocks I have ever seen.

Here is the signature block I have used on all business emails for the past 6 months:

The 4 emblems/logos are full of stars, eagles and crossed keys.  They also indicate that I am a Life Member, Officer, Commission Chairman and Board Member of the depicted organizations. And those organizations are:

The Radio Orphan Annie Secret Society;

The Buck Rogers Space Scouts;

The Dick Tracy Secret Service Patrol (wherein I am also the Inspector General); and

The Junior G Men.

All of the emblems are taken from comic strips, radio shows or movie serials from the 1930s and 40s.  Cost to me:  Zilch

I had considered adding a 5th:

                                                                                                                        EXTRA MOST BESTEST

 

However, I saw that the good folks at Little Caesar’s had already trademarked the phrase.  I didn’t want my first response to the new block to be a cease and desist letter.

While I did make the emblems kind of small to make discovery not totally obvious, my alleged positions within the depicted organizations were plain to read.

The results? Well, after 10 months of use, the first specific mention of my signature block came just last week when a young attorney of my acquaintance commented on how impressive my signature block was.  No one has “called me out” as an imposter or a lunatic (admittedly much more likely). 

So, what do we learn from this? Well, frankly, business has never been better.  My facilitation business, a bit of a sideline to my practice, has taken off.  So, either a superficially impressive signature block full of colorful logos with possibly significant indicia of importance, means nothing, or its positive influence is so subtle that it defies conscious perception by the reader.  If the former is true, a lot of my brethren, and whatever the feminine version of that word may be (if it exists) are wasting a fair amount of hard earned Spondulix. If the latter is true, apparently the benefits can be realized at little to no cost. 

Therefore, let me formally introduce a brand new BGTS, the Radio Orphan Annie Barrister of Apparent Discernment, or ROABAD. 

_{RADIO ORPHAN ANNIE}

_{BARRISTER OF APPARENT DISCERNMENT}

Attorneys in current or former good standing with the SBM can submit an application to me at [email protected].  Answer the question “Why am I a Barrister of Apparent Discernment?” Answers must be 25 words or less.  If accepted, basic membership includes the right to use the organization’s public domain (I hope) logo and the non-trademark protected organization name for all personal and professional purposes, without cost or limitation. 

An enhanced membership (most popular) is also available.  Such applicants must also include proofs of purchase from any 2 Ovaltine products.  Enhanced membership carries with it the right to call yourself a ROA-BADASS in public.

Mike Butler

Chief Operating Officer

Life Member ROABAD

 

*Organization name paraphrased.