05/19/2026
Several friends suggested I post my legal column for next week on fb...........
WHY I HATE MY LAWYER (And Why I'm Glad I Have One)
I hate my lawyer.
There. I said it.
I hate that he won't let me talk to the insurance adjuster — even though I know exactly what happened, and I could explain it perfectly. I hate that every time I pick up the phone to "just clear things up," he tells me to hang up. I hate that he says things like "silence is golden" when all I want to do is tell my side of the story.
I hate that he makes me wait. The accident was months ago. I want this over. I want my money. I want my life back. But he keeps talking about medical records, treatment gaps, demand packages, and statutes of limitations — words that sound important but feel like excuses for why nothing is happening fast enough.
I hate that he told me to keep going to the doctor even when I THOUGHT I was feeling better. Who does that? I felt fine. Mostly. Sometimes. But he insisted, and now I have a file three inches thick documenting every ache, every sleepless night, every morning I couldn't turn my neck without wincing. A file, he says, that tells my story better than I ever could…and could be used at trial since I wrote it…not my attorney.
I hate that he was right about the insurance company. I thought they were on my side. They called me — they seemed so sympathetic, so eager to help. Turns out they were eager to get me on the record, saying something that would reduce what they owed me. My lawyer knew that. I didn't. Not until he explained it.
I hate that he keeps saying "this takes time" — because he's right, and patience has never been my strong suit.
I hate that when I finally got my settlement, it was more than I ever expected. Because now I have to admit that all those months of trusting the process, following his advice, staying quiet when I wanted to scream — it worked. He worked. And I spent half that time convinced he wasn't doing anything.
I hate that my lawyer is good at his job.
I hate that he answered the phone himself when I called in a panic at an inconvenient hour. I hate that he explained things in plain English instead of burying me in legal jargon. I hate that he genuinely seemed to care whether I got better — not just whether the case settled.
I hate that he told me upfront: "Whether I take your case or not, I will guide you…honestly." And then he actually meant it.
So yes. I hate my lawyer.
The way you hate someone who makes you eat your vegetables, wear your seatbelt, and slow down in the rain. The way you hate someone who turns out to be right about nearly everything, even when it was the last thing you wanted to hear.
I hate my lawyer.
And I'd hire Dale Gribow again tomorrow.
