Honesty, Expectations & Solid Ground

I met this morning with one of the first clients I signed up after starting my solo practice. This was our third in-person meeting and things went well. We talked about her medical treatment, how her life was progressing since her car accident, and some other things that were relevant to her case. Then came the question that I have found to be one of the most difficult, if not the most dangerous questions clients can ask.

“So, how are we gonna do?” The question takes many alternate forms, usually asked with hesitation as if coming from a child asking a parent if they can stay out past curfew. The question is difficult because it places me, the lawyer, in the role of expectation setter. There are few things more dangerous to a relationship, any relationship, than setting up expectations. It reminds me of the well-known advice of witness examination: never ask a question for which you do not already know the answer.

Obviously, there is no way I can know the answer to my client’s question. Without a doubt, my own expectations are high; I wouldn’t have taken her case if I didn’t think she had a good chance of success. And believe me, the words she wants to hear are sitting on my tongue prying open my mouth and trying to jump free.

“You have a great case.” “I cannot see us losing.” “Don’t worry about a thing.” And then there is my personal favorite, which I have lived to regret several times, “Everything is under control.”

The simple truth is that every client walks through my door with a life in turmoil. It doesn’t matter if it was a car accident with only minor injuries or a relative who is old enough to drink and old enough to drive, yet can’t seem to do one without the other. I know enough now that when a new client is sitting across from me they are unsure, they are usually angry, and whether they let you in on it or not, they are scared.

As their attorney, they are looking for you to make things better. Human instinct dictates that you are up to that task. Human ego convinces you of that fact. After all, as their attorney, I am the one being asked for help. And whether I admit it to myself or not, being asked for help is like a mild narcotic pushed into a vein. It just feels good.

My responsibility, I have learned, is to fight the instinct to say anything to make things okay right now. As much as I want my client to feel confident with their situation in my hands, I work hard to fight the urge to make our conversation easy, to do whatever it takes to bring forth a smile from this person who is paying me to do just that. It would be too easy to set the expectations sky-high and let my client walk out feeling as if everything, you guessed it, is under control.

In this battle between what is right and what is easy, experience has taught me that choosing what is easy is hardly ever right. There is no doubt I want my clients to like me. But even more so, I want my clients to respect me. When all is said and done, I believe people want you to tell them the truth.

My clients may not always walk out happy but they will never walk out unsure of where they stand. For people whose lives have been turned upside down, maybe it is enough right now just to be placed on steady ground.

Client Communication: How Much is Too Much?

From the research I have done, including the reading of what seems like every relevant discourse on the subject, client communication seems to be pretty important. Perhaps because so much of my career is weighted in the “pre-solo” spectrum, most of my references lie in that environment. When I worked for my former firm, as one of many, actual client communication seemed to play a much less critical role.

Of course you needed to meet the client, convey to them why they should hire you and explain to them the journey they were about to embark upon. After that, there was a pretty specific protocol as to how many times a client should be called, by whom, and under what circumstances. There were always exceptions to the rules, but for the most part, work was done for the client rather than with the client and for the most part without the client’s ongoing awareness.

Now that I am a solo attorney, my perspective is changing rather quickly. I have developed my “Theory of Client Importance” which simply states that the less clients you have the more important each one becomes. When I signed up my first personal injury client, I would have been happy to have had them move in, join me for dinner and allow me the privilege of running their errands if that is what they desired. So much of my energy was spent wondering if they were happy with me, if they believed I was doing a good job, and given the opportunity, would they hire me again? As one client turned into two and two into a few more, my heightened awareness of each client’s satisfaction level seemed to even out, though the anxiety remained, and does so to this day.

Which leads back to the topic of client communication. As a solo, I have no buffer between me and my clients. I don’t have a partner or associate who I can casually ask to give someone a call and see what they need. In addition to this, I have given most of my early clients my cell phone number in an attempt to demonstrate that I would be there for them any time they needed me. And, believe me when I say that they have needed me, and at every time imaginable. I have yet to decide if this was a “rookie mistake” or just one of the facts of life of being a solo attorney.

Most of my time is fortunately now spent working on my client’s cases, debating with medical record clerks over the term, “timely” and doing my best to bring new clients through the door. Yet, the anxiety of not knowing the proper amount of client contact remains. I know there will come a time when concerns such as this will be “wistful memories of the early days” but for now they are very real, and at times very intrusive. In terms of keeping in touch with my clients, I have yet to figure out what work best.

Perhaps I’ll ask each one to email me once a week just to let me know I’m doing a great job.