

Home List Rules User Help Fun Stuff FAQ comments Subscribe Websites Links ONElist Updates		SMALL CLAIMS COURT FOR EDITORIAL FREELANCERS FAQ We all have clients who stiff us for payment for a variety of reasons, from sad-sack, empty-pockets schlumps, to smarmy jerks who never intended to pay us in the first place, on up to legitimate people who have legitimate gripes but still, in the end, we feel owe us money. We also sometimes work for individuals who have one-off projects and can't give out make-good assignments when one gets out of hand . . . and they for some reason or another don't feel compelled to pay. We can try to convince the court system to compel them to pay—we're not on our own. "Sue the bastards" is a mantra we utter under our tongues on occasion, but is it really do-able or practical? Ultimately, you must decide, but, coming fresh off the experience, we have some pointers. Q: Are the authors of this FAQ editorial freelancers who have taken a client to court? A: Yes. Q: Is suing a client a pain? A: Yes. Q: Will it consume my every iota of spare emotional energy in the days leading up to my appearance in court? A: Yes. Q: Will it eat up a lot of time as well? A: Probably, unless you want to appear unprepared. Q: Will lawyers help? A: Probably not. First off, if you're suing for more than the small claims court maximum ($2,500 in our case), you must sue in a higher court. Lawyers, unless you're paying them a retainer likely more than the total value of the claim, won't be interested. Plus, small claims court is more like "The People's Court" than "LA Law." Small claims court is for regular people, not legal scholars arguing obscure points and technicalities. If your opposition brings a lawyer, it will help him or her to have advice, but the judge will wonder what the defendant needed a lawyer for, and does this person have something to hide, and why try to kill a fly with a Howitzer anyway? Q: Then why bother going to court? A: Sometimes you need the money. Sometimes you need to be vindicated. We've been ripped off for more than the few hundred this client refused to pay, but the way he treated us was intolerable. We said from the outset that if he did not comply with our demands to pay, we would pursue all legal means to make him do so, and we never relented. Q: What are the problems specific to editorial freelancers? A: a) Editing is a difficult-to-quantify process, and it's sometimes hard to prove the difference between a good and bad job to a non-editorial person—like a judge. b) Many times, the bulk of the communications involved are in the form of email and the manuscript versions get kicked back and forth over the Internet as attached files—it's hard to prove quickly and easily who did what when. c) The assignment and final acceptance of the work by the client is subjective. Was the work done? Was it completely done? The proofreader found errors in proofs—does that mean the copyedit was weak? Was the manuscript difficult to begin with? How can you explain in three sentences what was whose fault? Q: OK, I've decided to take a client to small claims court. What's first? A: Nothing that follows is hard-and-fast legal advice—we're not lawyers and we've only done this once. Always check the processes in your jurisdiction before you fill out a form or file a motion, OK? But typically you must make a formal demand for payment and have proof that the client received it. In our case we sent a third and final invoice by certified mail. We got the return slips and they became evidence, along with a copy of the invoice. Q: Then? A: File your claim. In some cases, the court will send copies to the defendant (they call it "serving") via certified mail; in other cases, you will be responsible for serving the defendant. Q: Back up. What do I write on the claim you file? A: Your name and address as well as the defendant's, and you only have space for about a 30-word description of your case (ours, to paraphrase, was "he hired us, we did the work, he didn't pay us!") and that's about it. Oh, and you get to write what you're asking for. In our case, that was the money that the defendant still owed us. You can add to that any costs you incur in preparing your case (but not lost wages for the day you spend in court) and any fees that you ordinarily apply to late payments. Q: So if I have to serve the defendant myself, how do I do that? A: Certified mail. The defendant signs for it and you get little signed slips back in the mail that prove the claim was received, just like when you sent your formal demand for payment. Q: Then what if the defendant refuses the letter when the mailman comes or just fails to pick it up at a PO box or mail drop? A: Good question. When our defendant did this, we got the whole damn thing back in the mail. Q: So how do I serve the defendant in that case? A: You hire sheriff's deputies at about $50 a pop to do what's called "process service." These are court costs you can add to the claim later. You tell the nice deputies where your defendant lives and works, and they decide where best to pin the person with the papers. Q: And what if my loser defendant is home when the deputies come but hides behind the couch and doesn't come to the door? A: Well, in our case, the nice deputy noted that he believed the defendant to be home but he refused to come to the door—and so his wife was served with the papers, which in our court's eyes was close enough to count. So while close might count in horseshoes and dive-bombing, and it might not count in other places, it definitely does count here. Q: Then? A: You prove to the court that you served the defendant—the deputies will send you signed papers that say so. At least in our state, the defendant has only a few weeks to respond to the complaint. If he or she doesn't, you win, a default judgment is entered in your favor, and the defendant is ordered to pay up. If the defendant answers, the court will set a date for the case . . . and you're on! Q: So how do I prepare for court? A: Therein lies the rub. You could argue anything. A signed contract, a letter of approval saying you finished the job—those two things make it open and shut. In our case we and the defendant emailed each other and didn't sign a contract. Well, there you go. Still, even verbal pledges to pay for work are a contract. (We recommend Melvin Belli's Everybody's Guide to the Law as a primer. It helps define these things crystal clearly.) We put together "exhibits" consisting of emails and a manuscript to prove that we were contracted to do the job, that we did the work, and that we met several times with the client to discuss it. Our exhibits also included proof of summons, invoices, all the responses from the certified mails, etc. Q: What papers should I include? A: Include letters, memos, faxes, emails, and phone transcripts that include information about what you were supposed to be doing for the client and how you were supposed to do it. Include anything that indicates pleasure or displeasure with your work to that date. Include the edited manuscript if applicable, and also query lists, style sheets—anything that constitutes the product of your efforts. Oh, and don't forget to include whatever you have in the way of a contract—whether it's a formal contract, an email, or just a note in your contact management software indicating that the job was yours. If the dispute is likely to cover not just whether you should be paid but how much, include any papers that have a bearing on the rate you charged for the work. Reference letters are good, although they may not influence the judge much unless they're from famous people he or she has heard of. Q: What should I not include? A: Don't include anything that's under NDA (nondisclosure agreement) or that doesn't have a direct bearing on your work on this job. For example, you may have done an editing test for the client, but it's sufficient to tell the judge that you did it—you don't have to show it. Q: What kind of things are important to us but really are blind alleys when arguing before the judge? A: Stick to the point. The biggest temptation we ran into was the urge to mention facts or opinions that made the defendant look bad but didn't have anything to do with the specific job in question. For example, the defendant used the word "Corp." in his company's name but isn't actually incorporated, and he didn't issue us the required 1099 for the payment he did make. This tells us the guy's a fraud and an amateur—but the judge absolutely does not care. It's also a mistake to talk about why you think the defendant did what he or she did—you don't know what went on in this person's mind, and rather than coming up with excuses, you should let him or her scramble to do it. Q: How should I organize all these papers? A: We made a numbered list of what we were including, put that on top of the pile, put colored stickers on the first page of each exhibit, and numbered the stickers to correspond to the list. The judge loved it. The whole thing was in a cardboard report folder with a clear plastic front cover. The idea was to keep the pile of papers to a manageable size—we didn't want it to look intimidating, and we wanted all parties to be able to see the exhibits we were talking about. As it happened, we included all the information the defendant included in his sloppily photocopied and stapled pile of emails, so he ended up referring to our exhibits in his own presentation. Is this a good thing? We don't know. Q: How much patience will the judge have? A: Depends on the judge, naturally. But don't count on a lot. There may be a huge caseload; he or she may be having a bad day for some other reason; or the judge may just be cranky all the time. Stick to the point, be polite and don't interrupt, and make sure you've practiced simple explanations of the situation that will be comprehensible to a lay person. Q: Do we really only have about 5 minutes to make a presentation? A: Again, depends on the judge. Prepare as though you will only have a few minutes, but know what you want to say if you have more time. Prioritize your points. And be prepared to reorder those priorities in response to what the defendant may say. Q: What happens if we're pretty sure in advance it will take longer than 20 minutes? A: In our jurisdiction, that means we got bumped to the end of today's docket and had to sit through all the other cases. At the beginning of the court session, the court clerk took roll and asked if anyone thought a case might take longer than 20 minutes. When she realized ours would, the docket was reshuffled and another judge took some of the smaller cases originally scheduled for our session. Q: OK, now that my case is prepared, I should just sit tight until my court date? A: No. Go to small claims court for an afternoon or two, and watch the day's cases to see how fast they go. See how the judge asks a lot of questions, and how people speak only when they're spoken to, and no one interrupts. See how the people who dress nicely are treated with more respect, and the guys who walk up to the podium in T-shirt, jeans, and boots are already fighting an uphill battle. In our day of observance, the judge asked us if we had any questions about how things work, after the court cleared out. He wouldn't talk about our case, but he answered a few procedural questions. Jawing with the bailiff helps, too. He was friendly. We ended up getting an different, older, gruffer judge, anyway. Keep in mind, though, that most of the cases you will see are "ability-to-pay" hearings. These are the people who owe money to a local funeral home or hospital and say they can't pay it—their situation is very different from yours. The difference in the hearings is that yours will likely contain a lot more arguing and take much longer, since for the most part defendants in ability-to-pay hearings are admitting up front that they owe the money. Q: My court day comes, and then? A: You just go and wait your turn. Good luck explaining it all. Stick to mantras: "I did the work, the client owes the money." Be prepared to identify any exhibits the defendant might bring to court, and make sure you date everything and carefully identify different versions of manuscripts. Stick as many absolutes in there as you can prove, like "I completed it on XXX." "He is deriving the benefit of my work." The judge will try his best to understand the process, so be prepared to explain exactly what you were hired to do in the same way that you might try to explain it to your grandmother. Chances are the defendant will get to say a lot of mean and untrue or at least bent-truth statements. As plaintiff, you will get to rebut—try not to make faces or gasp in horror (as we did—oops!). The judge may not quite understand the vagaries of each pass an editor makes over a manuscript, or the various iterations a writer turns in. Stick to absolutes the judge can grasp: "He's got my work. They used my writing on their Web site. They have not paid for it." Judges don't want to hear about the ins and outs of a book's plots, interior spreads, rectos and versos, and grammar. Try to talk about the situation in general and let the other side waste time trying to explain nuts-and-bolts line edits. This wastes the little time your opponent has to address your main claims: you did the work, this person owes the money. If a defendant wants to expend bandwidth trying to explain little differences of opinion or editorial minutiae, that helps you. Q: Will I be put on the witness stand? A: Probably not. You and the defendant face the judge. The defendant will ask you questions from his or her table, and you will ask questions from your own table. Answer evenly, politely, truthfully. Save the cussing and swearing until afterward. While he or she builds up what seems to be a worthless house of cards of a case, take notes on things your exhibits contradict, and write down questions you may want to pose to refute part or all of some statements. The defendant will mess up something. You can have witnesses, but unless they're not friends or family or fans, they probably won't do you good. (Read Belli, again. That's a great book.) You can also bring affidavits from others, such as letters from your other clients explaining what a great editor you are or testifying to any facts about the case. If these affidavits include factual claims, they should be notarized. (Hey, don't forget to add the notary's fee to your claim!) Q: And what exactly is a counterclaim? A: The defendant can say that not only does he or she not owe you money, but in fact you should pay him or her for damages, breach of contract, whatever. Some states make defendants file this sort of claim in advance of the case day; others will allow counterclaims to be made in court. Q: How does it end? A: You get to say your piece in something like a closing statement, probably. The defendant get to say his or hers. You get to rebut those statements. Everyone goes home, probably, and you await the judge's decision in the mail. Judges don't like courtroom confrontation, and so judgment-by-mail has become the custom in a lot of places. Q: So the defendant pays up if I win? A: Yup. The court orders the defendant to pay. If you still can't get the loser to pay, then you get law-enforcement folk to do things like garnish wages or take possession of the defendant's car. This is generally the sheriff's province. You can also file reports with credit bureaus that will be added to the person's credit records. Q: Might my reputation be assailed? A: Yes. My work was referred to as "garbage" in open court by the defendant. We're still trying to recover from the blow to our egos brought on by having a loser that we had to drag before a judge to pay his bills call our work garbage. OK, that sentence was sarcastic—there's no real reason we should care what this loser thinks of my work. That situation was something we feared beforehand, but when it happened, we realized that it made our opponent look unprofessional and made us look more like winners. Speaking of which, wear nice business clothes to court. The judge will take that gesture to mean that you respect the process. Q: Did the authors of this FAQ win the case? A: Not known at this writing. Q: Was it worth it? A: Yes—win, lose, or draw, you get to air out the problem before a judge and drag those smarmy jerks to court. The problem is resolved, and even if you lose, it's nice to know you did everything you could to prove your case. Go to the comments page. This FAQ appears on this page by permission of the authors, who do retain the copyright to its contents. If you want to reproduce it for some reason, please ask first. Thanks.

SMALL CLAIMS COURT FOR EDITORIAL FREELANCERS FAQ

We all have clients who stiff us for payment for a variety of reasons, from sad-sack, empty-pockets schlumps, to smarmy jerks who never intended to pay us in the first place, on up to legitimate people who have legitimate gripes but still, in the end, we feel owe us money. We also sometimes work for individuals who have one-off projects and can't give out make-good assignments when one gets out of hand . . . and they for some reason or another don't feel compelled to pay. We can try to convince the court system to compel them to pay—we're not on our own. "Sue the bastards" is a mantra we utter under our tongues on occasion, but is it really do-able or practical? Ultimately, you must decide, but, coming fresh off the experience, we have some pointers.

Q: Are the authors of this FAQ editorial freelancers who have taken a client to court?
A: Yes.

Q: Is suing a client a pain?
A: Yes.

Q: Will it consume my every iota of spare emotional energy in the days leading up to my appearance in court?
A: Yes.

Q: Will it eat up a lot of time as well?
A: Probably, unless you want to appear unprepared.

Q: Will lawyers help?
A: Probably not. First off, if you're suing for more than the small claims court maximum ($2,500 in our case), you must sue in a higher court. Lawyers, unless you're paying them a retainer likely more than the total value of the claim, won't be interested. Plus, small claims court is more like "The People's Court" than "LA Law." Small claims court is for regular people, not legal scholars arguing obscure points and technicalities. If your opposition brings a lawyer, it will help him or her to have advice, but the judge will wonder what the defendant needed a lawyer for, and does this person have something to hide, and why try to kill a fly with a Howitzer anyway?

Q: Then why bother going to court?
A: Sometimes you need the money. Sometimes you need to be vindicated. We've been ripped off for more than the few hundred this client refused to pay, but the way he treated us was intolerable. We said from the outset that if he did not comply with our demands to pay, we would pursue all legal means to make him do so, and we never relented.

Q: What are the problems specific to editorial freelancers?
A:
a) Editing is a difficult-to-quantify process, and it's sometimes hard to prove the difference between a good and bad job to a non-editorial person—like a judge.
b) Many times, the bulk of the communications involved are in the form of email and the manuscript versions get kicked back and forth over the Internet as attached files—it's hard to prove quickly and easily who did what when.
c) The assignment and final acceptance of the work by the client is subjective. Was the work done? Was it completely done? The proofreader found errors in proofs—does that mean the copyedit was weak? Was the manuscript difficult to begin with? How can you explain in three sentences what was whose fault?

Q: OK, I've decided to take a client to small claims court. What's first?
A: Nothing that follows is hard-and-fast legal advice—we're not lawyers and we've only done this once. Always check the processes in your jurisdiction before you fill out a form or file a motion, OK? But typically you must make a formal demand for payment and have proof that the client received it. In our case we sent a third and final invoice by certified mail. We got the return slips and they became evidence, along with a copy of the invoice.

Q: Then?
A: File your claim. In some cases, the court will send copies to the defendant (they call it "serving") via certified mail; in other cases, you will be responsible for serving the defendant.

Q: Back up. What do I write on the claim you file?
A: Your name and address as well as the defendant's, and you only have space for about a 30-word description of your case (ours, to paraphrase, was "he hired us, we did the work, he didn't pay us!") and that's about it. Oh, and you get to write what you're asking for. In our case, that was the money that the defendant still owed us. You can add to that any costs you incur in preparing your case (but not lost wages for the day you spend in court) and any fees that you ordinarily apply to late payments.

Q: So if I have to serve the defendant myself, how do I do that?
A: Certified mail. The defendant signs for it and you get little signed slips back in the mail that prove the claim was received, just like when you sent your formal demand for payment.

Q: Then what if the defendant refuses the letter when the mailman comes or just fails to pick it up at a PO box or mail drop?
A: Good question. When our defendant did this, we got the whole damn thing back in the mail.

Q: So how do I serve the defendant in that case?
A: You hire sheriff's deputies at about $50 a pop to do what's called "process service." These are court costs you can add to the claim later. You tell the nice deputies where your defendant lives and works, and they decide where best to pin the person with the papers.

Q: And what if my loser defendant is home when the deputies come but hides behind the couch and doesn't come to the door?
A: Well, in our case, the nice deputy noted that he believed the defendant to be home but he refused to come to the door—and so his wife was served with the papers, which in our court's eyes was close enough to count. So while close might count in horseshoes and dive-bombing, and it might not count in other places, it definitely does count here.

Q: Then?
A: You prove to the court that you served the defendant—the deputies will send you signed papers that say so. At least in our state, the defendant has only a few weeks to respond to the complaint. If he or she doesn't, you win, a default judgment is entered in your favor, and the defendant is ordered to pay up. If the defendant answers, the court will set a date for the case . . . and you're on!

Q: So how do I prepare for court?
A: Therein lies the rub. You could argue anything. A signed contract, a letter of approval saying you finished the job—those two things make it open and shut. In our case we and the defendant emailed each other and didn't sign a contract. Well, there you go. Still, even verbal pledges to pay for work are a contract. (We recommend Melvin Belli's Everybody's Guide to the Law as a primer. It helps define these things crystal clearly.) We put together "exhibits" consisting of emails and a manuscript to prove that we were contracted to do the job, that we did the work, and that we met several times with the client to discuss it. Our exhibits also included proof of summons, invoices, all the responses from the certified mails, etc.

Q: What papers should I include?
A: Include letters, memos, faxes, emails, and phone transcripts that include information about what you were supposed to be doing for the client and how you were supposed to do it. Include anything that indicates pleasure or displeasure with your work to that date. Include the edited manuscript if applicable, and also query lists, style sheets—anything that constitutes the product of your efforts. Oh, and don't forget to include whatever you have in the way of a contract—whether it's a formal contract, an email, or just a note in your contact management software indicating that the job was yours. If the dispute is likely to cover not just whether you should be paid but how much, include any papers that have a bearing on the rate you charged for the work. Reference letters are good, although they may not influence the judge much unless they're from famous people he or she has heard of.

Q: What should I not include?
A: Don't include anything that's under NDA (nondisclosure agreement) or that doesn't have a direct bearing on your work on this job. For example, you may have done an editing test for the client, but it's sufficient to tell the judge that you did it—you don't have to show it.

Q: What kind of things are important to us but really are blind alleys when arguing before the judge?
A: Stick to the point. The biggest temptation we ran into was the urge to mention facts or opinions that made the defendant look bad but didn't have anything to do with the specific job in question. For example, the defendant used the word "Corp." in his company's name but isn't actually incorporated, and he didn't issue us the required 1099 for the payment he did make. This tells us the guy's a fraud and an amateur—but the judge absolutely does not care. It's also a mistake to talk about why you think the defendant did what he or she did—you don't know what went on in this person's mind, and rather than coming up with excuses, you should let him or her scramble to do it.

Q: How should I organize all these papers?
A: We made a numbered list of what we were including, put that on top of the pile, put colored stickers on the first page of each exhibit, and numbered the stickers to correspond to the list. The judge loved it. The whole thing was in a cardboard report folder with a clear plastic front cover. The idea was to keep the pile of papers to a manageable size—we didn't want it to look intimidating, and we wanted all parties to be able to see the exhibits we were talking about. As it happened, we included all the information the defendant included in his sloppily photocopied and stapled pile of emails, so he ended up referring to our exhibits in his own presentation. Is this a good thing? We don't know.

Q: How much patience will the judge have?
A: Depends on the judge, naturally. But don't count on a lot. There may be a huge caseload; he or she may be having a bad day for some other reason; or the judge may just be cranky all the time. Stick to the point, be polite and don't interrupt, and make sure you've practiced simple explanations of the situation that will be comprehensible to a lay person.

Q: Do we really only have about 5 minutes to make a presentation?
A: Again, depends on the judge. Prepare as though you will only have a few minutes, but know what you want to say if you have more time. Prioritize your points. And be prepared to reorder those priorities in response to what the defendant may say.

Q: What happens if we're pretty sure in advance it will take longer than 20 minutes?
A: In our jurisdiction, that means we got bumped to the end of today's docket and had to sit through all the other cases. At the beginning of the court session, the court clerk took roll and asked if anyone thought a case might take longer than 20 minutes. When she realized ours would, the docket was reshuffled and another judge took some of the smaller cases originally scheduled for our session.

Q: OK, now that my case is prepared, I should just sit tight until my court date?
A: No. Go to small claims court for an afternoon or two, and watch the day's cases to see how fast they go. See how the judge asks a lot of questions, and how people speak only when they're spoken to, and no one interrupts. See how the people who dress nicely are treated with more respect, and the guys who walk up to the podium in T-shirt, jeans, and boots are already fighting an uphill battle. In our day of observance, the judge asked us if we had any questions about how things work, after the court cleared out. He wouldn't talk about our case, but he answered a few procedural questions. Jawing with the bailiff helps, too. He was friendly. We ended up getting an different, older, gruffer judge, anyway. Keep in mind, though, that most of the cases you will see are "ability-to-pay" hearings. These are the people who owe money to a local funeral home or hospital and say they can't pay it—their situation is very different from yours. The difference in the hearings is that yours will likely contain a lot more arguing and take much longer, since for the most part defendants in ability-to-pay hearings are admitting up front that they owe the money.

Q: My court day comes, and then?
A: You just go and wait your turn. Good luck explaining it all. Stick to mantras: "I did the work, the client owes the money." Be prepared to identify any exhibits the defendant might bring to court, and make sure you date everything and carefully identify different versions of manuscripts. Stick as many absolutes in there as you can prove, like "I completed it on XXX." "He is deriving the benefit of my work." The judge will try his best to understand the process, so be prepared to explain exactly what you were hired to do in the same way that you might try to explain it to your grandmother. Chances are the defendant will get to say a lot of mean and untrue or at least bent-truth statements. As plaintiff, you will get to rebut—try not to make faces or gasp in horror (as we did—oops!). The judge may not quite understand the vagaries of each pass an editor makes over a manuscript, or the various iterations a writer turns in. Stick to absolutes the judge can grasp: "He's got my work. They used my writing on their Web site. They have not paid for it." Judges don't want to hear about the ins and outs of a book's plots, interior spreads, rectos and versos, and grammar. Try to talk about the situation in general and let the other side waste time trying to explain nuts-and-bolts line edits. This wastes the little time your opponent has to address your main claims: you did the work, this person owes the money. If a defendant wants to expend bandwidth trying to explain little differences of opinion or editorial minutiae, that helps you.

Q: Will I be put on the witness stand?
A: Probably not. You and the defendant face the judge. The defendant will ask you questions from his or her table, and you will ask questions from your own table. Answer evenly, politely, truthfully. Save the cussing and swearing until afterward. While he or she builds up what seems to be a worthless house of cards of a case, take notes on things your exhibits contradict, and write down questions you may want to pose to refute part or all of some statements. The defendant will mess up something. You can have witnesses, but unless they're not friends or family or fans, they probably won't do you good. (Read Belli, again. That's a great book.) You can also bring affidavits from others, such as letters from your other clients explaining what a great editor you are or testifying to any facts about the case. If these affidavits include factual claims, they should be notarized. (Hey, don't forget to add the notary's fee to your claim!)

Q: And what exactly is a counterclaim?
A: The defendant can say that not only does he or she not owe you money, but in fact you should pay him or her for damages, breach of contract, whatever. Some states make defendants file this sort of claim in advance of the case day; others will allow counterclaims to be made in court.

Q: How does it end?
A: You get to say your piece in something like a closing statement, probably. The defendant get to say his or hers. You get to rebut those statements. Everyone goes home, probably, and you await the judge's decision in the mail. Judges don't like courtroom confrontation, and so judgment-by-mail has become the custom in a lot of places.

Q: So the defendant pays up if I win?
A: Yup. The court orders the defendant to pay. If you still can't get the loser to pay, then you get law-enforcement folk to do things like garnish wages or take possession of the defendant's car. This is generally the sheriff's province. You can also file reports with credit bureaus that will be added to the person's credit records.

Q: Might my reputation be assailed?
A: Yes. My work was referred to as "garbage" in open court by the defendant. We're still trying to recover from the blow to our egos brought on by having a loser that we had to drag before a judge to pay his bills call our work garbage. OK, that sentence was sarcastic—there's no real reason we should care what this loser thinks of my work. That situation was something we feared beforehand, but when it happened, we realized that it made our opponent look unprofessional and made us look more like winners. Speaking of which, wear nice business clothes to court. The judge will take that gesture to mean that you respect the process.

Q: Did the authors of this FAQ win the case?
A: Not known at this writing.

Q: Was it worth it?
A: Yes—win, lose, or draw, you get to air out the problem before a judge and drag those smarmy jerks to court. The problem is resolved, and even if you lose, it's nice to know you did everything you could to prove your case.

Go to the comments page.

This FAQ appears on this page by permission of the authors, who do retain the copyright to its contents. If you want to reproduce it for some reason, please ask first. Thanks.


Copyright © 1999, Vickie West, tanuki@comteck.com. Best viewed with Internet Explorer 3.0/Netscape 4.0 and above.