Ambulance Chaser Quotes

Most of the customers were from Kerry and Limerick. One was a lawyer, a tall, fat sandy-haired man. He lorded it over the others by buying them drinks. They clinked glasses with him and called him a 'motherfucking ambulance chaser' when he went to the bathroom. It was not a series of words they would have used at home -- motherfucking ambulance chasers weren't big in the old country -- but they said it as often as they could. With great hilarity they injected it into songs when the lawyer left. One of the songs had an ambulance chaser going over the Cork and Kerry mountains.

Tell me you're not going to do anything stupid." "I'm not that kind of guy, Peter." "Not usually, no. But I've seen the look you've got in your eyes. A guy so consumed with his demons he'd throw himself on a min to escape it. Then they send the little polished medal home to the people who love him. You've got a lot of people who care about you, Ben. Don't do that to them. If you don't trust yourself tonight, then let me shadow you." Ben sighed, looked back out in the darkness. "Fine, but keep a distance. I don't want anyone to think we're dating." "No chance of that. I wouldn't be caught dead dating an ambulance chaser.

When you get a good, honest exchange with an officer in this situation, normally it restores your faith in your profession, boosts you up for the daily grind of criminality, because that well-behaved, professional exchange between you both feels like an honorable thing; it pushes away the thoughts of the shysters and the ambulance chasers, the doughnut munchers and the baton wielders. You become two men, in a room, upholding the law, and there’s a purity to that, a kind of distinction, which is a very rare thing on a day-to-day basis. In Zoe’s case, it made things only slightly more bearable, because the facts of her arrest were so unremittingly grim. “She’d

Take one of our brand-new Krayoxx contracts for legal services, explain it to her, sign her up. Piece of cake.” “What if she has questions about the lawsuit and settlement?” “Make an appointment and get her in here. I’ll answer her questions. What’s important is getting her signed up. We’ve created a hornet’s nest here in Chicago. Every half-assed ambulance chaser in the business is now loose on the streets looking for Krayoxx victims. Time is of the essence. Can you do it, Ms. Gibson?” “I suppose.” “Thank you so much. Now, I suggest we all hit the

Jaywalker’s suitemates (a word he’d grown especially fond of, ever since the spellcheck feature on his computer had tried to correct it to sodomites) included two P.I. lawyers (the initials standing for personal injury, a considerably more polite designation than the also-used A.C. for ambulance chaser); an immigration practitioner named Herman Greenberg, who, in a stroke of marketing genius, had had his business cards printed on green card stock, forever earning himself the aka Herman Greencard; a bankruptcy specialist known in-house as “Fuck-the-Creditors” Feinblatt; an older guy who did nothing but chain-smoke, cough, read the Law Journal and handle real estate closings; and a woman who didn’t seem to do much of anything at all but wait for her next Big Case to walk through the door, her last Big Case having walked out the door fifteen years ago.

(When I was a law student, Wachtell’s firm was the holy grail of summer associateships. I’d been devastated, in the way only students can be, when it rejected my application. I had to slum it at Davis Polk, like an ambulance chaser or President Grover Cleveland.)