Sign Where? 

By TAD BARTIMUS

Two contracts committing me to future professional services are on my desk.  I've verbally promised to do the work - in one case, it's already done -- but my word isn't good enough. In this litigious society, it's the signature
that counts.

The documents were sent by huge corporations. They're full of "shall" and "shall not" and "will" and "will not," their sentences doubling back on each other like snakes in love.  Convoluted phrasing, multiple-syllable words, "party of the first part" syntax leaves me wondering who is supposed to do what when. 

 It seems that these days even doing creative work requires some legal entanglement, almost to the point that the work is secondary to signing on the dotted line.  Part of the problem is that we are not ruled by law, but by lawyers. We're either tracking one down to help us out or trying to get one off our back.  By training -- and often disposition -- attorneys are a suspicious lot who view the world as a yawning maw trying to swallow up everything their clients hold dear. Lawyers don't take anybody's word for anything -- they figure everybody's out to get them.  Then there are the horror stories about what can go wrong without a lawyer. We've become conditioned to hide behind their letterhead and stop trusting our own instincts.  It was lawyers, not law, that decided our 2000 presidential election. Millions of voters believe justice wasn't just blind. She was bound, gagged and mugged by five Supreme Court justices - lawyers all - who gave George W. Bush the presidency after his legal team shepherded his cause before them. If Al Gore had won, no doubt his critics would be saying the same thing.

It's not so much what lawyers do to us; it's what they prevent us from doing. Teachers no longer hug a child who's just earned an "A"; instead, they jump back when a child tries to hug them. Any hint of personal contact could be grounds for a civil lawsuit or criminal charges a teacher would have to defend - at his or her own expense - in court.

Doctors and nurses hesitate to treat victims injured right before their eyes because they are not in a hospital or office environment shielded by medical malpractice insurance or a Good Samaritan law. A dinner guest who bites down on a foreign object in the spaghetti can sue even if the cook merely opened a can and popped its contents into the microwave. In less adversarial times, such an event was an embarrassment; now it's a class action. My grandparents probably saw a lawyer only once or twice in their lives; my parents, maybe a half-dozen times. Today a grazed fender in a shopping center parking lot can send the injured party rushing into the arms of the nearest personal injury lawyer, whose ski condo, beach house and private jet were paid for by suing insurance companies. A lawyer can make anyone look
bad or good; O.J. Simpson springs to mind. 

Several lawyers have passed in and out of my life. One of them nailed me to the wall; a couple of others saved my bacon. The rest just vetted the house sale or drew up a power of attorney and said: "Sign here." I did. 

Going over the two thick corporate contracts one last time, I decided there was no sense trying to figure out what they really meant. Fine print and fancy phrases should not put sweat on my brow or fear in my heart - or anybody else's. Anybody can sue anybody anytime. Signing the contracts won't change that. If I don't get paid or a partner weasels out or the client absconds to Rio for Carnaval -- well, nobody said life was fair. What's important is that I am.


© 2001 The Women Syndicate

Visit TAD at www.tadbartimus.com and send your own great stories – 300 words or less – to friends@tadbartimus.com or write c/o The Women Syndicate, P.O. Box 728, Puunene, Hawaii 96784. Thanks for sharing.

© 2001 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com