One of the cultural peculiarities of lawyers is that we call each other: “My friend”.  No, we aren’t all Quakers.  It’s from Shakespeare, where in The Taming of the Shrew Act 1 Scene 2, Tranio tells Hortensio they should “do as adversaries do in law, strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.”  It’s a reminder that we are hired combatants, but when the combat is over, we remain colleagues.  Part of our culture is: We always use first names.  Youngest baby lawyer to retired judge, it’s: “Bill” or “Jane”.  Saying “Mr. Harding” is an insult.  Because we’re friends.

Lawyers often help each other out.  It’s so expected, we rarely notice the generosity and kindness of our colleagues. 

A nice example of this happened recently in a long civil trial I am doing.  My client was injured quite badly.  A life-changing event.  Lost his career, marriage, home.  There’s a really obscure little legal issue, impossible to find cases on point through the usual research channels.  It was driving me crazy.

I was in the lawyer’s private lounge area at the local courthouse.  Several lawyers – strangers to me – were there, too.  As we usually do, we all introduced ourselves, and said what our cases were about.  A couple senior lawyers (nearly as old as me!) were intrigued by my issue.  Both said they thought they recalled a case that might be relevant.  That night, I got an email from each, providing two cases that were relevant.  I would never have found them on my own. 

Just a regular day for a lawyer.

Sometimes I love this profession.