Knowing when it is quitting time

Know when to hold 'em. Know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away, know when to run. I had the honor of speaking to graduates at my high school last year about this time. I advised them, implored them to press on in their endeavors, to never quit, to never give up. This week, I ignored Winston Churchill's advice and I quit. The above quote, for those of you who don't listen to country music or worse, think today's top country singers represent the genre (Girl, get up in my truck. Git me a beer. Repeat.) is from "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers. The story is about the singer meeting a gambler on a train and while they play cards, the gambler gives him this advice for the game, and for life. Then he dies, on the train. Weird and not related, but I want you to have a full picture, Gentle Reader. I quit a case before it was over. The incident that hurt my client happened six years ago. I struggled through the paper discovery, motions, depositions, a day and a half of trial, a trip to the court of appeals, and seven continuances. My client filed for bankruptcy in the meantime. Some other lawyer will finish his case, but not me. I spent a lot of time on this case, and I really like my client. We talked a lot over the years and he deserved justice. I spent a considerable amount of money pursuing the case as well, and as it is with contingency fee lawyers, that money came out of my pocket. It was a difficult decision for me to quit, and I spent hours agonizing over it. I tell insurance adjusters every day that I am too dumb to run away from a fight and that is usually true. My history will show more than a few lawsuits where my fee didn't justify the time and money spent, and those are just the wins. This case was different. A win at this point couldn't make my client happy or even put him back at even. I still have a fire in my belly to fight for my clients. Their stories inspire me to come to work every day. This time it felt empty and I had had enough. It doesn't sit well with me to have given up. Losing feels less bad than quitting. Losing a case leaves a hole even when I expect it, but at least there is closure. Quitting is a play with no last act. I am certain it was the right decision, but I still think about that case and my client. He was gracious to the end, which only made it harder. Back in college, I sold cars during the summer. (Insert car salesman/plaintiff's lawyer joke here. I think I have heard them all.) The manager preached going to Car University - listening to something educational while driving. When I have windshield time these days, I try to take in a TED talk. Not the real ones, the NPR condensed version. A line from one stuck with me: The surest way to be happy is to harmonize the life you expected or thought you would have with the life you are in. In other words, live in the moment. I had a vision of how this case would turn out. Events that had nothing to do with my client or his lawsuit changed my outlook but not the facts. Had I known that it would turn out this way, would I have made a different decision about taking the case in the first place? Probably not. For this case, my expectations and my client's were not met. Pressing on was not to be for me. Accepting that reality, unsavory as it was, was the right answer. Like most things in the practice of law, law school didn't prepare me for this. It didn't teach me how to lose, either. Some things you must learn on your own. Like getting back up, you only learn some lessons by falling down. It is tough for a trial lawyer to quit. Dogged determination is our common denominator. If we didn't think we could beat long odds on a daily basis, we would change careers before we wound up in the bottom of a hole, or a bottle. Some of us do. Losing with a bang is easy, winning without one is too hard to swallow. It would be easy to blame the circumstances in this case. I don't. Sometimes even a fighter has to fold 'em. The smart ones do it early, and I am still not smart. Yet. I wish this tale had a happy ending, Gentle Reader. I still see myself as a fighter and haven't retired my sword just yet. Kenny Rogers may be right, Winston Churchill is too. I remain in Churchill's camp, but this time I walked away. ----- ©2018 under analysis llc. under analysis is a nationally syndicated column. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. He is learning to walk away, but still doesn't run. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this newspaper or directly to Under Analysis via email at farris@farrislaw.net. Published: Fri, Jun 08, 2018