Remy Orozco of Hostis Civitas recently made the leap from young public defender to young private practitioner.  But he’s hardly a card-carrying member of the Slackoisie, having learned his lessons well from the struggle.  That, of course, doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the occasional glimpse of others acting foolishly.

Standing on line at the clerk’s office is one of the quintessential activities that mark the practice of law.  For all our feigned self-importance, lawyers stand on lines like everyone else, subject to the scrutiny and approval of a handful of people who can make our lives easier or harder, and without whom we are often left to dangle in the wind.  Court Clerks.  We love them.  If we don’t, they will make us miserable.

Remy posts about watching a young lawyer learn this very important lesson. 

I sat in a clerks office today and watched as this young new attorney learned a valuable lesson in civility. This young buck was so new that he did not even know his bar number and someone forgot to tell him that while his family my be impressed by his new title, it hold no special significance in a clerks office.

His first mistake was coming in and cutting to the front of the line. His excuse was that he was not here to vote and had to file some very “important” papers. I and much senior and admired attorney were in line in front of him and my friend could tell that I was about to say something but with a wise and gentle grip of his hand I stood back and watched the show unfold.

Ah, the memories came flooding back.  Watching as the newbie was about to tell a clerk with 20 years under his belt that he was a lawyer, and just hoping I wouldn’t get hit with the spray of blood that was about to cover the room.

Now Ms. B is a kind and gentle soul and the next ten minutes was a masterful example of how to totally make someones life miserable without never breaking a smile. I watched as Ms. B fed this young man’s ego and systematically broke him down. As Ms. B began reviewing the documents, I began to hear her explain how she could not accept these documents from him because he had not brought the proper number of copies to be filed.

The young attorney began walking over to the copy machine but was politely reminded that the copy machine was not for public use but that they could make copies for him for a fee. He fumbled through his wallet for change when he was informed that they do not accept debit cards. After the copies were made, she began explaining to him how our court has local rules which require that the attorneys of record sign the documents and that their bar numbers and contact information on them which he had not prepared.

As the sweat began to run down his forehead I sat back with my wise friend and mentor and chuckled as he began calling his boss on the phone. Ms. B kindly reminded him that cell phones are not allowed in the building. He asked if he could use a county phone and apologizing Ms. B informed him that unfortunately those phones were for county personnel only.

As this young buck scurried down to call his boss, I and my fellow friend enjoyed a great chuckle with Ms. B and the girls as we filed and made copies of our documents. We had just finished filing our papers when the young man came back upstairs with a look of defeat on his face.

I always thought of it as a look of fear and dread, when the young lawyer came to the realization that others new his secret, that he didn’t really have a clue and that he was powerless, despite the law degree that he clutched in his sweaty little hands, to do anything about it.  What would he tell his boss?  That he failed?  That he screwed up?  That he was impotent?  Some young people have a problem acknowledging that they may still have a little to learn.  It’s an ego thing.

When I started practicing, I found it incredibly useful to ask clerks for their help, telling them that I wasn’t sure how to accomplish a task and would very much appreciate whatever assistance they could give me.  Invariably, the clerks would happily walk me through whatever needed to be done, often allowing me to circumvent any potential problems that I had created through some technical error, and ultimately accomplishing the task I was there to do.  The clerks were more than happy to help, and enjoyed the show of respect I offered for their knowledge and experience.  I was indeed appreciative, for their aid allowed me to complete my work quickly and properly, as well as learn their way of doing things.

Remy’s clerk, Ms. B, did this young lawyer a mitzvah.  He learned in one shot where he, the young lawyer, fit within the courthouse pecking order.  It will serve him well in years to come and hopefully prevent him from making many enemies who will cause him and his clients grave problems.  Clerks can do that.  It isn’t merely a matter of showing deference to those with the capacity to make your life miserable, but understanding that no matter how many times your mother told you that you, as a lawyer, stood at the top of the food chain, you don’t.  You’re just a cog in the wheels of justice, and the wheels don’t spin unless all the cogs are working together.

It’s a great lesson, and a great story.  It’s another subject that should be covered in law school, clerk appreciation and self-deprecation.  But if they did, then we wouldn’t get to enjoy watching these kids being taught a lesson while we are waiting around the clerk’s office.