TO-WIT: A SHOW OF FARCE
The non-jury trial ended, and much to my surprise Her Honor verbally announced her decision right from the bench. “I find for the plaintiff,” she said, “in the amount claimed. All costs and interest on the defendant.”
Waiting for her to further direct that both defendant and his counsel be immediately taken out and shot was probably expecting too much. Just winning was enough.
My client exploded with enthusiasm, reminding me instantly that, oh yes, he had won as well. “Great job,” he yelled while hugging me and slapping me on the back, “what a Colossus of the law you are.” His family, seated together in the courtroom, also erupted with applause and cheers of ecstasy.
“I was never in doubt,” I lied to him.” I am still immensely proud of that wondrous bit of fallacious spontaneity. Until then I though the case a sure loser.
I packed up my briefcase, jauntily hoisted it onto my shoulder, and strode out of the courtroom like a Colossus amidst a glorious cacophony of huzzahs, jubilation and the enthusiastic waving of arms. Both defendant and his counsel joined in gesticulating, although it seemed their gestures were significantly less laudatory.
For as much as I have practiced it I don’t get to use my Colossus stride very often. Still I think I pulled it off with sufficiently contrived aplomb to convince everyone how accustomed I am to such veneration. That jaunty little briefcase hoist, a slightly longer gait, the sly, rehearsed smile feigning self-assurance, these are indeed the techniques of a master.
I love being a Colossus, and for just that moment, one brief, wonderful psychotic moment, that’s how I felt. But by the time the elevator hit the first floor of the courthouse and I stepped out into the endless chaos and dismay so endemic to this profession that feeling, as it always does, just poofed away.
For someone who wants to be a Colossus as much I do I picked a profession not known for such opportunities. In this business you never know if you’ve won because of your skill or because of someone else’s maladroitness. For that reason, confidence, and even more unfortunately, smugness, remains an elusive commodity.
Perhaps I should have been a weightlifter. One clean, one jerk, and either you’ve either done it or you haven’t; either way the result is determined solely by merit. It may not have the same professional cachet as lawyering but then again it’s a business in which a plentitude of jerks is a good thing.
Lawyering is more like an old West gunfight. Winning is way better than losing, to be sure, but it’s not always indicative of who has the greater skill. If perchance you win because your opponent accidently shoots himself in the foot while trying to clear leather, of what reputational and self-esteem moment is it that you’ve just shot and killed a clown?
At least there’s this - you don’t have to actually be a great lawyer to be a Colossus, you only have to think you are. It usually takes years to master the sleight of learned hand necessary to pull off this self-deception, but I’ve done it and now I’m willing to share some of my secrets with you.
Why would I offer such aid and comfort to a potential adversary? Well, despite what you may believe I’m really a soft-hearted guy, and when it comes to opposing counsel “succor” is the first word that comes to mind.
What follows then are some maxims that may help, a sort of mantra for those starving for self-aggrandizement. There’s no need to thank me. After all, isn’t that what we Colossi are for.
1. That jaunty hoist of briefcase to shoulder so persuasive of your power and charisma is much easier if your young associates are carrying the actual files.
2. You are always right. Having the Supreme Court rule against you does not make this any less so.
3. The stride of a Colossus is two meters. Choose your underwear accordingly.
4. To promote the illusion of coolness under fire, liberally apply talc for dryness. Avoid the mouth where this will occur naturally.
5. A deep, booming voice conveys power and assuredness and is worth cultivating, even if it bewilders your husband.
6. Applying an Ivy League law school sticker to your briefcase creates an impression of integrity, honesty and professionalism. If you didn’t graduate from one, use the sticker anyway.
Though you too may soon feel like a Colossus, it won’t last, those feelings never do. Thankfully though, warranted or not, they return, allowing us to believe just for a moment, one brief, wonderful, psychotic moment, that we’ve done something good. And aren’t those, dearest my colleagues, the moments for which we live.
©2017, S. Sponte, Esq.