Usually, I try to assure myself of my unending patience and love for the world. At this time of my life, ‘my world’ is the law office and usually includes clients who pay the bills to keep the law office open. This means I am a whole lot more restrained with clients than Kanye West at the VMA or Serena Williams at an annoying line judge. Recently, I have been dealing with a client who has deeply shaken my illusions of sainthood (a different client from the one who went volte face for the amendments on Monday). This one is another horror client nightmare, like the type law school teachers warned us about. Last week, he sent at least a dozen emails on Monday and another dozen on Wednesday to clarify a point that was clearer than rice paper. Today, I spent forty minutes trying to convince him to sign an affidavit. After we got past the fact that he did not have to actually go to court and take oath before the commissioner for oaths, I had to explain every line of the affidavit to him. Then he had me reprinting the affidavit since he insisted that I insert the word ‘JP’ after his name like it was a national honour.
After another bit of pacifying, he finally signed it and left the office. Ghandi suggests that I sent a bill on an hourly rate and request for a deposit on account. I intend to.