Most Social Security Disability cases take years

 

Social Security Disability goes to those who deserve it

 

Fight back against mean people

 

Dallas Loved the Ladies

 

Dallas loved the ladies. Ladies loved Dallas. His parents named him after the city of his birth. Not very original. But most names are not original. When they are, they aren't well received. Better to blend in. Blending in is safe. But Dallas never blended in the same way a giant rooster can't go unnoticed. 

Dallas crossed the street one day and caused several wrecks in the process. This happened on more than one occasion.

He stood several inches taller than most men. His biceps pulled at his short sleeves. His chest muscles rounded under his shirt. Of course he had a flat stomach. But that wasn't it. 

Not a bad looking guy. But was no Elvis. However, he did have great hair. He wore the hair a little long. Not long, in the "Point Break," Patrick Swayze quaffed way. But it was still a mullet. It was long and greasy, like it had been dipped in bacon grease or chicken fried. He was like Tim McGraw with good hair. And, as is the case with Tim McGraw, women often said, “there's just something about him.” 

And his smile. It drew women in like a tractor-beam.

That something about him meant had many things about him. And these things, these attributes, made life easier for him. And harder. 

Harder in the sense that these attributes sometimes got him in trouble. 

Dallas rarely had to work because he always had a sugar-mama or a few sugar-mamas. Dallas really was a good guy, so his popularity wasn't confined to women. Men liked to hang out with him because he always had great stories, and subconsciously, men wanted to be him.

Not everyone felt so positively about Dallas though. One night Dallas went home with a woman named Shelia after knocking back a few Buds at the roadside bar, Honky Tonk Angel. He didn't see a ring on her finger. Shelia left it home that night.

How was a guy to know? Not that it ever stopped Dallas before.

"What’s he doing in my bed?"

The male voice roused Dallas from sleep. But he couldn't make out the words.

“Don't blame him, he didn't know."

"How did he not know you were married? Where's your ring?"

Her truck-driver-husband, Archie, got home early from a cross-country haul.

Shelia mixed up her arrival dates. Dallas stared at the cuckolded husband, who was momentarily paralyzed. Archie regained his composure and swung clumsily at Dallas. He missed. Dallas scooped up his clothes and shoes off the floor. He lit out like he had a fire under his ass. He never did get the husband's name. A few months later, Dallas was drinking a Bud at Honky Tonk Angel, when a process-server slapped him with a summons. Elmwood Jones. was suing him. 

 "Who is Elmwood Jones?” Then he read further. It was Shelia's husband. Archie wasn't his real name. Mr. Jones was suing him for alienation of affection. of affection, an antiquated cause of action for cuckolded husbands and jilted wives.

Dallas retained a lawyer paid for by one of his sugar-mamas. The case went to trial. 

Dallas took the stand. "I didn't know she was married." He spread his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothing by it." 

Female jurors and male jurors nodded sympathetically. Women smiled at him. Some even licked their lips, a sign Dallas knew to look for when chasing women.

The jury came back with a $1 verdict against Dallas. After the trial, Jones's lawyer asked a few of the jurors why they didn't find more damages. There were ten women jurors and two male jurors, a dead give away to any good lawyer. But Archie couldn't afford a good lawyer. He got the town drunk, who somehow managed to not get disbarred. 

A sweat little old lady "he reminds me of my grandson.” 

Another juror said, “I watched Law & Order once, and they said something about mens rea being necessary. Dallas didn't have that. Besides, he is a good old boy, and I wouldn’t mind knocking back a few Buds with him."
 

Jones saw a pretty blonde named Crystal slip Dallas her phone number as the two walked out of the courthouse. "That bastard.” Archie would never get it.

Keep all the nasty emails...to use later for revenge maybe?

 Keep nasty emails from jerk lawyers and jerk humans. Keep all of them.

It's not high tech, but it can be useful for later litigation. 

You can’t “kill all the lawyers,” but there is a thing called a fate worse than death. That is humiliation…through description. And some people give you those descriptions in their emails.

I know a ton of nice lawyers and a few--more than I'd care to--abusive lawyers. The lawyers I can't stand don't live anywhere around here. If I'm lucky, I won't ever have to see them again, but they are out there...lurking in the shadows. This raises the question: how do you deal with bullies you work with?

Like all great lawyer answers/non-answers, it depends on the situation. If you work for a bully, then it is difficult to fight back. Fortunately, I am a partner, and I don't have to allow someone to be nasty to me. While I am respectful, I can fight back.

It wasn't always that way. I worked for a firm in another state, and I won't name the firm. But one of the people I worked with happened to be a real POS. Let's call him "Jerry." Well...Jerry didn't have what we call in the South "charm." If there was an opposite of charm, Jerry bathed in it each morning while drinking it in.

I won't mince words: Jerry was (and still is I'm sure, assuming he didn’t consume himself with self-hatred in a conflagration of spite) a raging a******.

I had a job a while back with Jerry. It was largely remote. Jerry got real comfortable firing off missives from his hovel. He fought in the way only gallant key-board-warriors can. He dwelt in his own delusions only his lonely mind could conceive. I say this because—assuming I didn’t trip over him because I couldn’t see him (he was impish)—he would NEVER have spoken that way to my face. He didn’t have the guts. And that’s how many of these key-board-warriors are.

But…this job required me to communicate mainly by email. Jerry said many, many sharp things via email all of which I still have in my possession. Of course I kept copies. Jerry should have known this. I'm a litigator--he wasn't really--so of course I keep things. I kept everything. I still keep everything anyone sends. I also have a Master of Science in Library Science from UNC-Chapel Hill. Mess with librarians at your peril.

Describing Jerry exposes the limitations of the English language. But Jerry is the kind of guy who searches for ways to delete excess spaces in documents using AI. Make any inference you wish from that precious pearl of wisdom about our villain, Jerry, dear reader.

But…he forgets about what he says in emails. In very a Nixonian way, he forgot the “tape is running.” I’m assuming many people have kept their email correspondence with Jerry.

You never know when it will be useful. It’s a treasure trove. Bilbo stole Smog’s treasure, and here it’s being given to you. Take it. Feel no guilt.

I realize telling someone to f-off may not be an option. I did that in a nice way to Jerry, and then I left. So, that's not likely a solution.

Emails are key evidence in employment law claims.

Keep all the evidence of it. You never know when it might be useful. As for Jerry, the statute of limitations still hasn't expired. It may support claims for a hostile work environment, potential ADA claims if you are disabled, and wrongful termination claims.

Unfortunately nasty emails are on the rise, and they are bad for your health.

Your best bet is to ignore them as much as possible if you can while you keep good records.

Keep all the emails

 

Wrongful termination: firing someone for disability and ADA