The Appropriate Use of Legal Humor

by Evan Loeffler

At the Practice Conditions Committee's March conference on legal career satisfaction a speaker remarked that a good way to reduce stress is to laugh. The lawyer sitting next to me leaned over and asked me how it felt to be solely responsible for keeping the members of the Young Lawyers Division laughing.

"Stressful," I replied.

It was gratifying to learn that some of De Novo's readers enjoy my writing. Recent events, however, have taught me that non-lawyers have no sense of humor when the humorist is an attorney.

My family has never quite come to grips with the fact there is a lawyer in the family. This is one of the reasons why I live in Seattle while my parents live in Boston. Ever the dutiful son, however, I called my mother to wish her a happy anniversary of her 29^th birthday. I called her at work and asked the receptionist to inform my mother that her child was on the phone.

"Which kid is this?" my mother asked, picking up the phone. "My favorite child or the one who came first?"

It may come as no surprise from this remark that I have a younger sister. Margo, who shall not remain nameless, is six years my junior and another reason why I relocated across the country. She graduated from college last June with a degree in Telephone Soliciting, and is currently living at my parents' ski house in Vermont where she snowboards during the day and waitresses on weekends. My mother is thoroughly convinced this is more productive than being a lawyer.

"Mom!" I wailed. "You're not supposed to say things like that to your kids!"

"Oh it's you," Mom said dully. "I suppose you called to wish me a happy birthday now that it was a week ago?"

"I always knew you liked Margo more than me!" I continued, making a mental note to remember Mom's birthday on time next year. "That's why you let her live at home!"

"Oh, pipe down," Mom said. "Your sister is living at our ski house in Vermont."

"And whose house is that?" I asked. "Don't you even charge her rent? You charged me room and board when I lived at home."

"We don't mind her living there," Mom explained.

This gave me an idea for a prank. I mailed my sister a three-day notice to pay rent or vacate the premises. I identified myself as my parents' agent and required Margo to pay rent to my office in Seattle. The notice was on pleading paper identifying the venue as "State of Washington, County of Vermont." I stated that the monthly rent was $1.25, a jar of maple syrup, and a package of Vermont Cheddar Cheese.

A few days later I received a call from my sister. Much of what she said to me is unprintable, but suffice it to say she was not amused, and not shy about using certain colorful adjectives to denigrate my intellect and position on the food chain.

"The notice was joke, Margo," I said. "Didn't they teach you how to read at that cute little college you went to?"

"You think this is funny, do you?" Margo yelled. "Well, I'm telling Mom!"

"Oh no!" I said in mock agitation. "No doubt Mom will fly out to Seattle to send me to my room!"

"You'll see how funny this is when we get through with you," she said and hung up.

I expected to receive a call from my parents telling me to be a good boy and stop evicting my sister. When I did not receive such a call within a week I assumed either that my parents had placated my sister, or had cut me off from the family again.

Then I received the letter from the Washington State Bar Association. My family had filed a bar complaint against me, and the Vermont State Bar Association had complained that I was practicing law without a license in their state. The Vermont Bar was particularly upset, and had requested that I be extradited. Being one of the very first states in our country, Vermont's law is somewhat antiquated by Washington's standards. The punishment in Vermont for practicing law without a license is to be burnt at the stake. If clemency is granted the convicted may choose instead to be trampled by a herd of cattle.

All this was somewhat upsetting. I wrote several letters to the Washington Bar explaining that the whole situation was a big misunderstanding brought about by sibling rivalry. Chief Disciplinary Bar Counsel was somewhat impatient.

"Look: I've got the State of Vermont threatening to send a detachment of the National Guard over to take you by force. I'm not interested in how the problem came about. I want the problem to go away! If that means sending you to Vermont, fine!"

"But the notice was a prank!"

"A prank?" he echoed. "Extorting from your sister is a joke? Evicting your sister is a joke?"

"Extorting? I asked for a $1.25!

"Aha! So you admit it!"

I could see where this was leading, so I called my parents and asked them if they would please, please, please drop the bar complaint and I would never ask for anything again in my life. After an hour or so of whining and begging, we reached a settlement. It was agreed that I would write a letter of apology to my sister promising never to evict her again. Additionally, I had to formally renounce my right to receive birthday presents from the family, and agree to mow the lawn at my parents' house the next three times I visit Boston. In return, my parents agreed to retract their bar complaint, thus sparing my livelihood. I was rather pleased that I had done as well as I had: my parents' initial demand was that I stop being a lawyer altogether and move home to be their manservant.

I learned several lessons from this escapade. First, non-lawyers do not find anything lawyers do the least bit amusing. Second, Vermont is a bizarre state. Finally, never forget your mother's birthday.

Evan Loeffler, the editor of De Novo, is an associate at Harrison, Benis & Spence, LLP. He received his undergraduate degree from Bennington College in Vermont and is therefore entitled to make libelous comments about the State.

Copyright Evan Loeffler, all rights reserved.