May 2007
The Proper Care and Feeding of Clients
by Stephen Hayne
Practicing law must be the best job in the world. Why else are so many bestselling books, movies, and television shows devoted to our profession? And where else could we get paid so much for essentially, well, standing around talking? No wonder everybody hates us but wants to be us at the same time! Despite its obvious benefits, it is a tough business. To keep the wolves at bay, you have to get clients in the door. Then you have to sign them up. Then you have to get them to pay a lot of money. Then you have to tell them bad news. Then you have to make them feel okay about it. Then you have to make sure they leave pleased with what you did for them. Doing all that ain't easy.
Every once in a while I hear friends complain, "You know, the practice of law would be great if it weren't for the clients." It's sometimes true: Client relations can be the hardest part of the business. But there are some basic steps you can take to make it a lot easier and more gratifying for both yourself and your clients.
First: recognize that clients usually come to us in terrible distress — afraid, confused, ashamed, defiant, and angry. Many lawyers are uncomfortable dealing with their distress. After all, it's really quite irrelevant to the legal problem, isn't it?
No, it's not, and it is also critical to what kind of relationship the lawyer and client are going to have, from beginning to end. The failure to appreciate and empathize with the client's psychological struggle will be a barrier to good client relations, no matter how brilliant the lawyer or fantastic the result. If there is a single prerequisite, a single key to keeping clients happy, it is seeing them as someone who is suffering first, and as someone with a legal problem second. Doing so offers the client the most fundamental component of a good lawyer/client relationship: trust. Trust that the lawyer is on the client's side no matter what the client did, no matter how worthless the client feels. Trust that no matter how ugly it gets, the lawyer won't cut and run.
Consider what the client is experiencing when he walks in your door: "There's a monster trying to break down my door, it wants to destroy me and I'm helpless to stop it. And it's my fault it's there. I feel worthless and ashamed. I've failed everyone who cares about me. Oh, how I wish I could go back and start over!"
I don't care how stoic the client appears: When he shows up at a lawyer's office, something like that is usually going on inside. It must feel pretty awful. So what is the client looking for? What does he need and want from you? He needs someone capable and strong to join him in the fight, someone who knows the monster, someone who has fought it before and is not afraid of it, someone who will protect him. And he needs someone who will resist the temptation to judge him, who won't align himself with his enemies. In short, someone he can trust.
That is the foundation of a good attorney/client relationship.
This kind of trust can only develop when the lawyer pays attention, really hears the client, tries to understand the client's pain, and does so without even a hint of judgment. Being on the client's side doesn't mean you approve of what he or she did. It means you're going to help your client deal with it, to begin the process of putting his life back together, and to help him forgive himself. It also means resisting the temptation to join the self-righteous legions surrounding him, whose disapproval haunts him day and night. The client already has more than enough people judging him — what he needs is an unwavering ally. It doesn't mean you tell him what he wants to hear. It means telling him the truth. Trust allows him to hear it, because he knows you are on his side.
Many lawyers don't understand or are uncomfortable with our role as counselor to our clients, describing it as time-wasting "hand-holding." But it is a vital part of what your clients need, and if you're not willing to give it to them, who will? If they can't count on you being on their side, who else in the system can they count on? Recognizing the importance of this role is the key to satisfied clients.
I've learned a lot about dealing with clients and keeping them happy, starting with my first job with legendary iconoclast Alva Long. Alva did everything his own way. Calling Alva a lawyer was like calling Ozzy Osbourne a suburban dad. He practiced out of a small storefront office in downtown Auburn. On the huge picture window facing the street, he painted "Alva the Lawyer" in letters six feet high. He was partial to garish suits, wild ties, and fluorescent socks. His battered briefcase was covered with peace symbols and "Free the Chicago Seven" and "Legalize Pot" stickers. He spoke in disjointed parables, arguing points of law so esoteric no one in the courtroom had any idea what he was talking about. During an opponent's direct examination of a key witness, he'd often take out a deck of X-rated cards and play a noisy game of solitaire. He drove prosecutors nuts, motivating at least one to actually file a "Motion to Make Mr. Long Leave Me Alone." Despite his flaming eccentricities, every Saturday morning clients lined up on his sidewalk for their turn to implore him to take their case. Alva certainly was never a candidate for Super Lawyer status, yet he had more clients than he could hope to handle.
Why? Well, Alva demonstrated the first lesson in the business of practicing law. Let's call it Lesson Number One: To be successful in the practice of law, you may not need a good reputation, but you do need a reputation. In other words, while you don't need to be eccentric, you do need to stand out from the pack, to take some risks, to do some extraordinary things. It means working harder than the lawyer down the street, trying cases you don't think you can win, taking on a case pro bono because it's the right thing to do, appealing a case for nothing because you know the judge was wrong. Over time, your efforts will impress those around you. In law, your developing reputation is by far the most effective means of attracting clients.
My second job was with another renowned character of the bar, Irving Paul. Irv was a Harvard-educated lawyer from old Boston money who could have made millions working for his uncle's Wall Street firm. Instead, he packed his bags and headed west. Irv had a heart as big as the Kingdome and, in the days preceding public defenders, founded what was essentially a poverty law center in Pioneer Square. Our firm "specialized" in representing clients no one else wanted, those folks Irv proudly called "the Great Unwashed." They were the legions of poor and down-and-out, with nowhere else to turn. They called him "Lawyer Paul" and would appear at our doorstep unannounced — summons in hand, wallet empty, eyes filled with hope. As far as I recall, no one was ever turned away.
Irv asked only one question of prospective associates: "Will you work for peanuts and do so until you drop?" Those of us desperate or idealistic enough to say "yes" were rewarded with massive caseloads, little support, missed paychecks, and lost causes. We represented many wonderful, decent folks with terrible facts and predictable results. What surprised me was how appreciative my clients were despite losing, simply because I cared enough to try my hardest for them.
My experience working for Irv taught me Lesson Number Two: When it comes to making clients happy, it isn't about winning or losing. It's about how you treat the clients in the process. I can't count the number of times folks were effusively grateful after I lost their case. They appreciated the fact that I was on their side, that I cared, and that I treated them with dignity and respect when no one else would.
When I left to begin private practice, I shared space with an established lawyer known for his take-no-prisoners attitude. Through the thick brick wall separating our offices, I winced as he loudly berated clients, demanding they follow his advice and not ask stupid questions. He ended up fighting a series of bar complaints and eventually gave up on the practice of law. I was not surprised. We lawyers operate in a world that is mysterious and frightening to our clients. We speak to judges and each other in a language they don't understand. We assume that if we know something is in the client's best interests, they will, too.
We would be wrong. Explaining complicated legal principles and tactical decisions is a pain, requiring patience, empathy, good listening skills, and a lot of time. But it must be done. It presents Lesson Number Three: It doesn't matter that the lawyer knows what's best for the client — what matters is that the client knows and agrees. Otherwise, clients can't move on; they are tortured with uncertainty, wondering whether they made the right decision. And they will blame the lawyer for the anxiety they feel. We owe it to our clients to remove the confusion as well as we can at every stage of the proceedings, by making sure they understand and approve of the decision before we ask them to make it.
As I learned how to practice law, every once in a while a client would get mad at me. The complaints usually seemed trivial; I didn't return calls promptly, or failed to follow up, or was late to court, or sent another lawyer in my place, or contradicted myself on some minor point. I'd often respond defensively, without much genuine concern. That just made 'em madder. Eventually I came to realize what I was doing: creating molehills, then challenging clients to make them into mountains. I learned there is no such thing as a "trivial" client complaint.
This led me to Lesson Number Four: Always return calls promptly, encourage questions from clients, respond immediately to complaints with sincere concern, keep them informed, explain your advice, be on time to court, and never promise something you're not positive you can deliver. Attention to these details goes a long way toward calming nervous clients.
I occasionally receive calls from other lawyers' clients who want to fire them and hire me. The complaints are rarely about the lawyer's competence or the results attained. It's almost always over frustration with the lawyer's inability or unwillingness to explain the lawyer's actions or advice. I hear them out, then almost always suggest that they go back to their lawyer, discuss the problem, and give her or him a chance to resolve it. I rarely hear from them again.
Which brings me to Lesson Number Five: If you have an unhappy client and are lucky enough to hear from her before some other lawyer or the Bar Association does, for gosh sakes take it seriously. Sit down, shut up, listen attentively, explain without a bunch of excuses, and apologize when appropriate. Figure out what the client needs to feel okay about it and move on. In such cases, the warning "act in haste, repent at leisure" is dead on. The worst thing a lawyer can do in response to a client's complaint is to blow it off, even if the client is wrong. Yes, client complaints often seem frivolous, unfair, or misguided. They are sometimes exaggerated or distort the facts. In reality, they are often manifestations of the client's unresolved fear, guilt, or shame. But they are real to the client and must be treated as such by the lawyer. In doing so, you are providing the client with what all clients need — the means to let go of all that emotion and move on.
Occasionally, we all run into clients who want their money back. This sometimes seems patently unreasonable. You feel you earned it twice over. The client was very demanding, even irrational. You achieved a terrific result. Maybe you had a bad month and need the money. It feels like a complicated question. Should you return all of the client's money? Should you return any of it? Isn't it unfair to you? Didn't the client sign the fee agreement freely and voluntarily? However you answer these questions, there is only one appropriate response. Let's call it Lesson Number Six: Give it back. And if necessary to make the client happy, give it all back.
I don't care why the client wants it back. I don't care how much it is, or how hard you worked on the case, or what a great job you did. I don't care if the client is crazy, a complete jerk, or a con artist. I know it hurts, but give it back anyway. Suffice to say, I've known a lot of lawyers who didn't, and every one eventually really wished they had. It is simply not worth the hassle. By the time the complaint reaches the Bar Association, the client will likely be complaining about everything you did and a lot you didn't. It will expand into a general indictment of your competence and ethics. It will require massive amounts of time, money, and effort to defend. It will not be worth it. So, just give it back and move on, sadder but wiser.
Over the many years of your career, you will likely repeat many of the same mistakes I've made. None of us is perfect. All we can ask of ourselves is to do our best and learn from our experiences. I hope you can benefit from mine. Yes, this can be a tough job, but even after 30 years, I still think it's the best job in the world. Not despite the clients, but because of them.
Stephen Hayne practices in Bellevue. A past member of the WSBA Editorial Advisory Board, Hayne last appeared in Bar News in March 2006, with his article "Demystifying Jury Selection."
