Look, I get it. There are a lot of lawyers out there. Ambulance chasers, courtroom showmen, legal eagles with late-night TV spots and suspiciously white teeth. But here’s the thing: I’m not one of them.
I don’t sue over wet floors in fast food joints. I don’t call myself “The Hammer.” I don’t drive a wrapped SUV with my own face plastered on it. I’m an ERISA attorney.
Yes—E-R-I-S-A. No, it’s not the name of a small town in Tuscany. It’s the Employee Retirement Income Security Act. You know, that delightful little statute from 1974 that governs things like 401(k)s, pension plans, fiduciary duties, benefit denials—stuff that makes normal people fall asleep and me stay up excited.
But you wouldn’t know that if you looked at my LinkedIn inbox.
Every day, like clockwork, I get invitations from people who clearly think I’m running some kind of negligence sweatshop. “Hey, thought we could connect! We help PI attorneys grow their practice.” PI?! You mean “Personal Injury”? Not even close, buddy. Try “Plan Interpretation.”
And then there are the insurance sales reps. God love ’em, but come on. I’m not looking to buy another policy. I read insurance policies for a living. I parse subrogation clauses like they’re poetry. I’ve spent hours in ERISA plan documents trying to decipher whether “must” actually means “must,” or if it somehow means “unless the claims administrator is in a bad mood that day.”
I even had someone message me asking if I needed help with my “injury intake process.” My what?! I handle fiduciary breach claims, not fractured femurs.
Look, I don’t want to be a jerk. I like connecting. I like networking. But it’s like calling up a tax accountant and asking if they can help fix your car. Wrong person, wrong skill set, wrong planet.
So, if you’re thinking about hitting “Connect” and your opening line is “We help injury lawyers win more cases,” please—for the love of Section 502(a)—do a little scroll through my profile. Check the acronyms. If you see ERISA, fiduciary, plan sponsor, or “I once got into a heated argument about COBRA continuation rights at a wedding,” you’re probably barking up the wrong legal tree.
And that’s fine. I’m not offended. I’m just… exhausted.
Now, if you’ve got a hot take on retirement plan governance, or you want to chat about how excessive fee litigation is reshaping fiduciary standards, I’m all ears. But if you’re about to pitch me on a slip-and-fall case involving a rogue quesadilla at a Tex-Mex joint, I’m out.
