Immigration Insider

Broken water or Broken Visas...

When Roger, Melissa, and I got back to the office Monday from our incredibly exciting EB-5 Immigrant Investor seminar in Venezuela, I got a taste of the days of old.  We'd left Wednesday and returned Sunday afternoon, and none of us had gotten much sleep during and since the trip.  And despite the presence of a great team on top of the workload, upon our return to the office we were each bombarded with that unavoidable crush of activity which befalls each busy attorney who dares leave the office for a few days. 

I thought back to my own business immigration practice, which I sold six years ago to my partner and friend, Lorenzo Lleras.  Lorenzo had joined my firm right out of law school and had grown to manage the firm far better than I ever had by the time he bought me out.  But even with our cracker jack team and Lorenzo at the helm, Monday-o-phobia was part and parcel of my reality for many years.  I travelled a lot back then, more than immigration attorneys normally do, and our offices in Hong Kong and Manila were a full day's flight away.  The trips had to be for at least a week, week and a half, and it was before communications technology had evolved.  So my return to Florida, despite everyone's best efforts, invariably involved a bit of chaos.

I would get very frustrated.  I would say "But I'm not an obstetrician who has to run to the hospital in the middle of the night to deliver a baby...I don't even do deportations!  How can there be so many "emergencies??"  Of course, in fact, the actual emergencies were rare.  But when clients want to speak to "the man" (or "the woman"), no amount of delegation to even the most competent folks will ever suffice.

Seriously, when you think about it, the obstetrical analogy is hardly off-base:  like the newly pregnant parents,folks come to us with the growing "embryo" of a life in the U.S. seeded in their plans.  We sit here and structure their visa, advise them of their options, and send them to specialists (pre-immigration tax advisors instead of sonogram technicians) to insure the health of their "pre-natal" "baby".  We prepare them for the process (our version of LaMaze) and for the visa interview (which many compare to the birthing process in terms of excruciating pain.)  Finally, with the family here and visas in hand, the dream begins as they leave our office with their new business enterprise, hopefully, bundled in a blanket of wise counsel and high hopes.  (I won't even get into the even more accurate but disturbing parallel of what happens when our best counsel ignored and the best laid plans "miscarry" as a result of predictable obstactles of which we warned the client; invariably heartbreaking to us.)

So, during these years, I tried in vain to be "present" in the Far East offices without having to travel, but there was just no way.  I have always embraced technology, but this was WAY before Skype, way before global cell access...even before email was standard in business communications.  I remember spending thousands to buy a set of then-high-tech video phones, thinking I'd be able to video conference and save a few trips.  All Chinese and Filipino clients looked the same, probably as I did to them: two inch tall gray blobs and a poor voice signal, degraded by the routing of video through phone lines never designed for compressed data.

I used the phones as bookends for awhile, tried unsuccessfully to sell them without reserve on eBay, and, as I recall, they are now part of an artificial reef somewhere off Key Largo.

Today at Chez Roger, things are different.  I Skype with clients.  I scan business cards in with OCR software.   Our state of the art client management system is available anywhere we can get online.  But the essential physical presence of the attorney - that "give a damn lawyering" I wrote of several days ago -- is still the buckstop.

So by late Monday afternoon, Melissa had had five client appointments, Roger about a billion emails, and I was whooped.  (I very rarely get tired.)  As I was leaving the office, I went to say goodnight to Roger and he just looked at me and said something to the effect that we were paying dearly for our two-and-a-half-business-day absence.  In fact, there had been no emergencies or even pseudo-emergencies, and, besides, Linda and a veteran corps of business immigration and litigation attorneys had remained in Miami to deal with anything urgent.

As I walked down to the car I realized that whether it involves broken water or broken visa situations, "emergency" is defined in the eyes of the beholder.

Reinventing Lawyers

I've noticed that as one grays around the temples, some sort of phenomenon gives others the impression that you know more than you knew before.  Suddenly, people who might never have listened to a word you had to say consider you a "resource" or, even worse, a "mentor".

In the case of my two sons --16 and 19 -- the phenomenon has eluded them; polite and wonderful as they are, it is clear from the rolling eyes that I've not much new to say.  Perhaps their epiphany of my wisdom will be manifested by some other physical change, perhaps false teeth, the continuing gravitational pull on my chin, or perhaps a prop (cane, walker, etc.).

In any event, the children of OTHER people seem to think I have something to say...and they are not shy about asking.  I probably have two or three conversations a month with someone considering law school.  I read them the Riot Act, explain market supply and demand, why associate attorneys are, in the vast majority of cases, today's version of galley slaves, killing themselves to enrich the fat coffers of their fat bosses, etc.  I tell them of the rewards of law, of the extraordinary buzz I get out of seeing the face of someone whose potential disaster I averted through my legal training and skills.  We discuss areas of practice (they ALL want to be international or immigration lawyers, poor souls) and they are always excited about our banter.

There is one subject, however, that takes them ALL by surprise:  it is when I tell them that while the tradition for lawyers is to graduate, get hired, and move up the food chain, the world of legal practice is changing dramatically and their reality will most likely be considerably different.  They must, I tell them, forget about that tradition and instead look ahead toward the practice of law as a tool with which they can find a meaningful, satisfying,  and financially rewarding career in the global economy.  I usually get the same response.

A blank stare.

The mythology of entitlement and order is being dashed to the ground by the global economy, and it stuns me that no one is really talking about its impact on the legal profession.  Law schools -- indeed ALL forms of higher education -- are one of the largest business sectors in the U.S.  Big money is spent on tuitions, on designer label visiting professors, and on the buildings which they call home.  So we look at little Joey, all grown up, talking about going to law school, isn't that wonderful...but we do not analyze the statistics which suggest that Joey might be better off starting his own web publishing business or taking that little eBay site he's done so well with up to the next level.  There is a considerable vested interest in our society in keeping those law schools full, and so Joey goes to law school.

In contrast, MBAs graduate with no uniform expectation of career path; the degree is viewed as a useful business tool preparing them for an infinite number of commercial possibilities, defined by their abilities, passions, and creativity.  A business partner of mine got his MBA and has spent his entire life in the non-profit sector.  Not so with a law degree, at least for the majority who seek it. I knew from day one of law school that I was not of the personality type which considers litigation "fun";  I knew I would not follow the "normal" career path most of my colleagues expected.  But today's prospective lawyers, despite the way the global economy is unfolding, remain oblivious to this new reality.  Instead of understanding the need to match their personal abilities and interests to what the economy demands, furious young law graduates ranting about their $150,000 in student loans and $8/hour clerkship are front page news in the Wall Street Journal.

Whoosh, just goes right over their brilliant little heads.

While we make a fine distinction -- sometimes passionately -- between "professions" and other industries, the truth is that, advanced degrees notwithstanding, doctors need patients every bit as much as plumbers need clogged pipes.  (Oh, the self discipline I am invoking to not inject a barrage of plumber/doctor wordplay at this point.)

The predictable career path of attorney lore is no more, but there is nothing to grieve about...change for improvement is always good.

Consider my very good friend, Casey.  Our family doctor for many years, he had a wonderful family practice.  We could drop by on a moment's notice if a kid got sick.  As is the case with so many physicians, after many years he came to the conclusion that there had to be a better way to practice.  He was tired of spending half his time running the business of being a physician, which only took away time from his passion...taking care of patients.

I would not describe Casey as anything other than smart and steady, but when the opportunity to join a large practice group materialized, he made the changes; going from a lovingly built private medical practice to a great big corporation was no minor event in his life.  Today, his time is spent on patients and he doesn't spend weekends paying bills and figuring out payroll.  Okay, so I don't know the receptionist anymore and I can't swing by to shoot the breeze because he is working very hard all day, but he is taking care of more people, has a great support system, owns his time and is very happy with the transition.

Change for improvement is ALWAYS good. 

Just as Casey found a new way of looking at his long-established medical practice, prospective and practicing lawyers would do well to similarly analyze the incredible inefficiencies which continue to characterize the U.S. legal system, depriving clients of the attention and service they deserve, and further eroding the reputation of our noble profession which is, after all, about helping other people.

(Starship) Enterprise Management

Whether you are an in-house attorney at a busy corporation or in private practice, you can probably relate to this scenario:  your paralegal -- with whom you have a codepenency rivaling that of the most dysfunctional sitcom couple -- is finally off for a week-long vacation he/she planned a year ago.  Your desk is full of sticky reminders and your Outlook calender is peppered with a rainbow of conference calls, kid's soccer practice, cases due, and client follow-up calls.  You arrive Monday morning, optimistic but wary...and then all hell breaks loose.

By the time you are able to track the overnight you sent for the last minute filing (not your fault but the client's fault), you have 12 half-intelligible messages from the new receptionist, who isn't quite as detail-oriented as she presented herself to be when interviewed by your HR Director.  The school calls because your son is sick, you call your spouse, and when you get their voicemail, you remember that he/she is handling a big site visit today...and can't be interrupted.

By the time you have managed to pickup your son and take him home and arranged to have your daughter's friend's mom to drive her home after soccer practice, it is 5 p.m. and you've had to cancel two calls and two filings due tomorrow sit staring at you on your desk.

How the best laid plans so easily go awry, eh?

Now, compare your reality to Captain James Tiberius Kirk, he of the Starship Enterprise.  Your missing paralegal is his damaged deflector shield.  Your failing receptionist is his unstable dylithium crystal down in Engineering.  Your unattended and overdue casework is the humanoid planet relying on the Enterprise for protection from an imminant Klingon attack, and Scotty can't get the big girl up to light speed with the dylithium crystals acting up.

But note the difference between your enterprise and Kirk's Enterprise:  while all this is going on, Kirk stays on the bridge.  As Atticus' Mark Powers would say, he stays at his "dashboard".  His control center is built to preserve his stability and steadiness when the you-know-what hits the fan.  Kirk pesters Scotty, who's always "givin' her all she can take, Captain, she can't take much more".  He doesn't go through the sliding doors, get in the elevator, and get in Scotty's face to micromanage because he's not an engineer!  Kirk knows what his team is doing and knows what they can deliver.  He knows that the resolution of the problem is in the most competent hands and that's what makes him Captain: he's assembled a team of professionals upon which he can rely and for which the idea of micromanagement is unthinkable.

That, my friends, is what hybrid outsourcing operations can do for your in-house immigration department or private immigration  practice.  I sold my law practice four years ago; in the five preciding years, the crew of MY enterprise -- attorneys, paralegals, and other personnel -- did not need to be micromanaged.  While my life wasn't exactly a Corona commercial, I really did spend a great deal of time on the beach, laptop in hand, thousands of miles from where my team was making it happen.  Through scaling, we were able to handle international accounts firms our size would never dream of approaching; through systems engineering, training, and an unwavering commitment to client service, the firm continues to grow.

You went to law school to practice law, yet the delivery of legal expertise takes up perhaps 10% of your day; the other 90% is spent on things best handled by the Scottys and Uhuras of the world, not by you.  Simple as that.  And whether your ambition is to work less hours or to make more money, enterprise management is the key, and our profession is as adaptable to efficiency as any other.

Email me your questions and I'll show you how, using today's technologies and intelligent resource partnering, you really can transform your business immigration practice into a Corona commercial.