While I'm Whining

I Want My Free Gift

I have a friend that works as a nurse practitioner. When she lived in Tuscaloosa, at least once a week some drug company representative would bring lunch to her office. I’m not talking about a deli tray from Winn Dixie, but a full spread of Dreamland Ribs, or Mike & Ed’s BBQ, with all “the fixins.”

“Sorry, I can’t lunch today, we’re having it catered,” she would say.

Translation: Sorry lawyer, you should do business with folks that feed. But it’s not just about the food. My doctor’s office is full of free, useful goodies like clocks advertising allergy medication, and note pads displaying a photograph of the newest topical cream for poison ivy. And the pens, do not get me started on the pens! Doctors and nurses are never at a loss for an ink pen because every pharmaceutical representative within a ten- mile radius delivers them by the caseload.

“Are you finished with our pen?” the snarky front desk lady asked.

It was clear she had been watching me fill out my patient update information, firmly attached to a clipboard advertising a new and improved athlete’s foot medication and she probably noticed I had taken a liking to the weight and flow of the pen I used, a nice blue gel roller advertising a cholesterol medication I couldn’t even pronounce, and hopefully would not need for a few more years.

“Sorry,” I stammered as I handed her the contraband items and returned to my seat red- faced and feeling like a scolded child. What if I wanted to keep that pen? It’s not like there weren’t at least forty identical gel rollers in the cup holder that advertised non-aspirin on her desk.

Even my husband, the gentleman I call Captain America, comes home with work related swag and he’s a blasted engineer. From cute fleece blankets advertising electrical and air conditioning services right down to a candy holder shaped like light bulb. And they feed him too!

There is unfairness in a system that provides no free promotional gifts to attorneys. I can guarantee you that if Mr. Pharmaceutical Representative gets a speeding ticket delivering New York style cheesecake bites to my doctor’s office, I am the first person that crosses his mind.

I cannot say, however, that I have never received a free gift. A legal research representative once stopped by my office in the hopes of cold-selling me a legal research plan. He was fifteen seconds into his spiel when I interrupted asking, “Where is my free gift?”

“Excuse me?” he appeared genuinely confused.

“A pen, a clipboard, a handy flashlight/Swiss Army Knife/USB combo that charges in my car’s cigarette lighter, you know, something with your company logo across it. Surely you didn’t come to sell me something with no free gift that I would never otherwise purchase,” I said in my best exasperated tone.

“Give me just a second, I must have left it in the car” he said as he rushed out the door.

He returned with a little stuffed zebra, no logo, no plastic wrapping and presented it to me as if proposing marriage. “It’s a screen cleaner,” he announced with a big toothy grin.

I knew he had reached into his glove box and grabbed the first thing handy because the truth was he had no lawyer swag. Attorneys get no free gifts. But I felt so moved by his effort that I signed up for a three year contract. I still have that zebra. He was eventually promoted, but the representative that replaced him had been well trained. He always came to the office bearing gifts, ones that never advertised legal services, mind you, and most likely came from his glove box, but I always thanked him profusely.

Other than the above noted exception, I have received no other free gifts of any sort, unless you count that time I represented a nurse and included in my retainer agreement that she had to provide my office with a minimum of ten free ink pens, complete with prescription advertisement, per month. In hindsight, I think that bordered on extortion, and is likely frowned upon by the Alabama State Bar, the governing body for lawyers, not the local watering hole. Likewise, I do not count the time I called a local defense firm and railed on one of the partners about the fancy trays of sweets they sent out to all the judges during the holidays. I told him that he should be ashamed because poor plaintiff’s lawyers (like myself) had to bake our own holiday offerings only to find them pushed to the back wall by his mammoth Tower of Godiva. The next day he sent me a tray full of sweets. I still have the tray, but do not count this as a free gift, since it was obtained via guilt trip. If you have to play on a guilty conscience, it is not a free gift. Also, I must mention that the court reporters do send wonderful trays of sweets and the occasional coffee mug, but I believe those gifts are shared in direct proportion to the number of depositions you schedule. That is not by definition a free gift. And because most attorneys are long-winded by nature, see attached blog, by the time I shell out $400.00 a pop on enough depositions to warrant a free cookie tray, I would have saved money by simply driving to Panera Bread and purchasing my own damn cookies.

Once, when I was representing the wife in a divorce case, someone threw a brick through her window with a note declaring her lawyer (me) a “big old lezzibun” with the word “lesbian” misspelled. As I have always believed friendly intent is a prerequisite in gift giving, I have also never counted the brick.

 Last year I found a dead cat on my doorstep. Captain America felt it could have been a coincidence that this cat strolled up to my office and suddenly expired on my porch, but I know better. It was a gift; the only kind folks in my profession receive. I guess I should be thankful it wasn’t a flaming bag of something else the kitty might have left behind.

If you know a lawyer please understand that their entire day consists of arguing another person’s point. Stop by one day unannounced and bring them something out of your glove box. A sewing kit, a signal flare, an old road map, anything handy and you will probably make not only their day, but their year.