Eat the Frog

A true story

Early in my career, roughly 35 years ago, an associate of mine went on vacation. He was a nervous wreck when he left, which I attributed to the long time since he had had any meaningful time off. As it turns out, I misdiagnosed the cause of his anxiety.

Shortly after he left, I started receiving numerous calls from pissed-off clients reporting that he wasn’t returning their calls and was generally avoiding them. Others reported that their project did not meet the promised completion dates, and the lawyer provided no explanation for the delay. Still others reported that he was outright lying about the status of their cases. I realized that he had found a way to cover his tracks while he was in the office, but once he left, the dam broke wide open.

And then it got worse. One particularly angry client came into the office to discuss the status of his injury case. He told me that my associate had the client meet him in court for a court settlement conference. He advised that the associate told the client to wait in the hallway while the lawyer met with the judge in chambers. The lawyer disappeared into the courtroom and came out describing a rosy recommendation from the court, but the case had stalled. The client showed me a copy of the court order setting the case for a status hearing a month or so later.

I discovered that there was no case filed. My associate went into the courtroom and chatted with the clerk for a half hour before returning to the client. He even forged a case number and the judge’s signature on the order to lend it more authenticity. Better yet, the statute of limitations had run, so no case could now be filed. Ugh.

Ultimately, multiple lawsuits were filed against the firm, and many furious people sought refunds of fees. I spent many sleepless nights trying not to cry in front of my young kids.

I immediately fired him upon his return and filed a six-page complaint with the Illinois Attorney Registration and Disciplinary Committee outlining all of my discoveries about his misconduct. In the meantime, he went to another firm. I reported his conduct to the partner, but my sociopathic former associate, who was charming and adept at lying, actually convinced the partner that I was a nut.

Eventually, the Supreme Court verified my complaint and disbarred him. In classic form, he blew off the investigatory hearing, didn’t advise his new firm of it, and lost his license to practice. The partner called me to apologize, stating that he was very convincing. Well, yes, he was…for a while.

What really struck me about his conduct was that it took much more energy and work to maintain the deceptions than if he had done the work in the first place. Many years later, on a much larger scale, his conduct reminded me of Bernie Madoff, who found it too easy to lie and made it a habit.

Sue and I often reminisce about this almost career-ending ordeal. We mutually agree that the resilience it helped foster in me may have been worth the sleepless nights and awful days trying to clean up the mess. In fact, it made me a much better lawyer.

So what did I learn besides becoming a compulsive micromanager of my firm?

I learned that avoidance becomes addictive. When you have a problem, you must meet it head-on. Do the most difficult task first thing in the morning. I’m fond of the saying, “If you have to eat a frog, don’t look at it too long first; it won’t get more appetizing.” Just take a bite.

Little white lies turn into big black holes that never stop expanding. Address unpleasant calls and tasks promptly, and never lie.

If you give the client a date of completion, even if you need to stay up all night, meet that obligation.

Preemption is key: keep the client informed and scrupulously update them of all developments. Also pick up the phone…don’t hide behind your keyboard.

And particularly in family law, where difficult conversations happen daily, don’t avoid them. It drives me crazy to hear an associate putting off unpleasant calls by promising to call the client back later. Just take the call if you can; if not, agree on a time to call the client back later that day. Angry people don’t get less angry if they believe you’re avoiding them!

This mindset likely serves as the cornerstone of my professional longevity and the secret to surviving the hothouse of family law for over four decades.

The mess my long-ago associate created, while nearly ending my career, ultimately forged the most critical lessons of my practice. The avoidance, the lies, the deceit—it was all a massive, needless waste of energy. The simple truth remains: the most effective way through a difficult situation is always the most direct one. Take the call, tell the truth, and tackle the frog before it has a chance to multiply. This isn’t just about good lawyering; it’s about simple, honest living, and that is the only way to build a lasting, respected career.