I hate to look at such things in an "us vs. them" light, but when the Potter County Attorney petitioned the Texas Attorney General for an opinion on whether it was a violation of state law to pay official reporters for transcript preparation in addition to their county salary, I, and I'm fairly certain every other court reporter, took it a little personally. I completely understand shrinking government budgets getting annihilated by post-9/11 security demands and poor investment choices and the corresponding need to bring expenses in line, but the manner in which this cost-cutting attack was mounted was patently offensive.

The gist of their request basically boiled down to: Why, if the county is paying the court reporter a salary, must the county then also purchase transcripts in cases in which it is a litigant or on behalf of indigent parties?

In the age of CAT and instant translation, we've made our job look too easy. Most attorneys and judges have a mere passing knowledge of our vocation and its insane time demands; most lay people standing at a minimum safe distance have no clue of the behind-the-scenes world of transcript preparation. "Pay no attention to the scopist behind the curtain!" It's no wonder the beancounters painted a bullseye on the backs of reporters.

The good news, Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott's February 24, 2004 opinion clearly states there is no violation of any state rule, statute or code by paying reporters a per-page rate for transcript prep. You can review the full text of both the request for opinion and the AG's answer below:

8/29/03 Request for Opinion
2/24/04 Opinion of Texas Attorney General

"Hell hath no fury like a bureaucrat scorned." -- Milton Freidman

I know dreaming about depositions gone afoul is nothing new for any of us, but had a particularly vivid one last night that I've just gotta share:

As I was setting up, I pulled out my new Mira writer, which inexplicably was hot pink, kind of like it had been painted with a pearlescent nail polish. Now, I'm as secure as the next guy, but I must admit that saddling up behind what looked like a prop from the Anna Nicole Show was quite unnerving. Phase two of the nightmare came when I reached into my "Bag of Tricks," my real-life zipper pouch containing every adapter known to RadioShack, and couldn't find two plugs that would mate up. Then I realized that, instead of donuts or kolaches, I decided to bring a nice cabernet for the attorneys to snack on at this early morning depo. Flustered by my inability to hook up my fabulous looking equipment, I tear into the bottle.

Now the witness shows up, an oriental woman who muttered under her breath much like Milton from Office Space, only in pigeon English. At this point I'm fully in the throes of that dreadful feeling we've all had, "Man, this is gonna be a bad day." Then counsel began to arrive, stating their appearances to the effect of, "Yeah, I represent Avery. I forget his last name." Concurrent with the alarm jolting me back to reality, I was ranting in an inebriated stupor about mumbling foreigners while barking at the lawyers, "Yeah, well, I beth you know your clienth's lasth name when you thend them your bill!"

I need a vacation.

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar" -- Sigmund Freud

Words to live by, my friends. Just a few weeks ago I was lamenting the demise of court reporting in Houston. We all know the end to that story... the intervening weeks have seen a pair of pharmacology experts, an off-shore platform designer, a gaggle of asbestos plaintiffs and four days straight of daily copy in a case involving those inflatable front yard decorations everyone had this past Christmas. My best line from the latter: On a break after testimony regarding a product called "Cute Bear with Package," I asked how they knew my college nickname. It was a pretty easy-going group, trust me.

The other thing I should have thought twice about before vocalizing was, "Man, haven't had anything interesting to put in the blog lately." Had a depo yesterday that made me regret ever blaspheming like that. I got the call to cover this one from a fellow firmowner who explained they needed emergency coverage for this realtime depo because their client threatened to cancel if the same reporter from the prior day showed up again. I was sitting around in my PJs swilling coffee and doing the billing, so I accepted. Hell, most of my best clients are difficult attorneys that I've won over by being just as bullheaded as they are... why should this one be any different?

Oh, but it was. It all went horribly wrong starting at the point I introduced myself as the court reporter. Counsel flared their nostrils and barked, "Why do you keep sending different people? You don't have a dictionary for this case! You can't possibly do it realtime!" Their office called and in no uncertain terms put the kibosh on the last reporter, and now I'm getting questioned why I'm someone different? I bit my tongue, holding back a comment about how a change in Prozac dosage might be in order, and hunkered down in a vain attempt to weather the storm.

Our relationship steadily deteriorated from that point throughout the remainder of the day. Long story short, the firm that booked me to cover the job got a call to never send Mike Miller again or they'd cancel the depo. By my calculation, this attorney is going to run out of Houston reporters somewhere around mid March. Couldn't happen to a more deserving person.

"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." -- Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart