Sometimes Being a Lawyer Means . . . Actually Swallowing Your Pride.

Yesterday evening I was pulled up to a red-light and talking to my little brother on my cell phone about his tax liabilities with his new job.

(My little brother just got hired as an "account executive" for a litigation services company-- which provides litigation support to law firms and judges-- and I am veryproud of where he's gotten himself. I think it is rather interesting that, despite our very separate paths, we're both going to work in the same industry.)

So I am pulled up to this red-light talking on my cell phone when a white Bronco pulls up to my left and I hear this:

"Hey, this mutha****** is trying to talk on his cell phone over here."

"He's trying to talk on his cell phone?"

"We'll see 'bout that."

And with that, the stereo of this bronco-- which was already loud enough to violate any city ordinance-- was turned up. And they pulled up further until they were directly beside me.

At this point, my first reaction is to look beside me and either gesture to these *jokers* or express in only so many words my feelings for them. But then as I do, an array of scenarios play through my mind:

1. The four guys immediately jump out of the bronco and decide to start something in the middle of the road.

2. The bronco follows me the half-block to my house at which point the four guys jump out and decide to start something in my front yard.

If either should happen, I believe I could've taken them all on in a fist fight. While there were four of them, by just a cursory glance they all appeared to be about half my size and fairly scrawny sitting there in their matching wife-beater t-shirts and sideways-cocked caps.

Should this have happened my legal liabilities would have been minimal as I would have a valid argument of self-defense. What officer or prosecutor would hold me responsible for beating the crap out of 4 punks that had decided to challenge me?

. . . and it would have been so enjoyable, too. Since I've been going back to the gym for the past couple of months, perhaps it is testosterone, but I have been feeling much more agressive and almost begging for something like that to happen. It almost makes me miss being younger and the wrestling and fighting that would go on between myself and my little brother.

(Who, by the way, is also no longer my "little" brother, as a result. Unless you call 6'4" 250 lbs with a neck nearly as big as his head . . . "little"?)

But then I also remembered what my stepfather had taught me about not bringing a knife to a gunfight, and I wondered if these punks were also stupid enough to carry a gun. Given this, should they have challenged me, would it be smarter to just look to Ms. Misery and tell her to hand me my .380 out of the glove compartment box.

And if I had asked her this, would she have panicked and stalled, possibly getting us both killed, or would she have immediately handed it to me.

And if she did have enough sense to hand it to me, and I used it on one or more of these punks . . . would I have been able to argue self-defense? Perhaps, but not without the trouble and expense of some sort of adjuticative hearing first.

Would any of the above scenarios resulted in problems with my ultimate accession to the profession and my position of Texas Super-Attorney?

Too many people don't think before doing "stupid" things. Perhaps if they did, prosecutors and defense attorneys wouldnt' have as much business. But if you actually allow yourself to think, it is amazing what you can process in mere seconds . . .

And so while sitting at that red-light on my cell phone attempting to explain the concept of depreciation to my brother, I decided that in order to protect my future earnings potential it would be much smarter to ignore them.

Doing so, however, required my doing something NO lawyer enjoys . . . it required me to actually swallow my pride. That must be the hardest thing an attorney ever must do.

I wrote in a previous post that I was taught at an early age to "take care of my business." But given my almost certain career prospects, my family's attitude has changed now. If I call my mother or stepfather now, this is what I hear:

"You stay out of trouble. You can't afford it. If someone needs an attitude adjustment, let us handle it."

What a wonderfully supportive family, right?? (Ha ha!)

Unfortunately, I have no idea who these punks were and will probably never see them again . . . so for the meantime, I guess I did the right thing.

That didn't stop me from thinking about it all night, however, and fantasizing about what could have happened.

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I am traveling to Dallas this morning to spend a nice relaxing weekend in an undisclosed location in gay-looking white bathrobes, sitting beside a pool and enjoying room-service way too much.

So, while I have actually begun to look forward to "Friday Spies," I may not get to them until Monday. If I can take some time out of my busy schedule later, though, I will post.