After I chose my very professional and quaint name for my practice, Jones Law Office, it was actually time that I found an office. The first place I looked is the first place I look when buying anything – you guessed it, CRAIGSLIST!

Craigslist can be a very scary place. There are a million listings just strewn on line like unmatched socks in a bin in a thrift store. It was a very daunting task trying to sift through the postings. But I learned the following from my Craigslist searches: 1) Office space in Atlanta is EXPENSIVE. 2) Good office space in Atlanta is is always located in a skyscraper 30 miles away, where you and your clients have to pay for parking, and 3) Office space goes quickly.

I drove all over Metro Atlanta (that’s all 10 counties and 28 cities) looking at office space. Some spaces were very very nice but always lacked exactly what I needed. Some spaces were just plain old raggedy and I don’t see how these people had the unmitigated gall to even list these spaces for rent. And some spaces looked like the site of future murder scenes. For instance, I toured a third story office space in a creepy old house-looking building. The floor creaked as I walked, the doors made that “scary movie sound” when I opened them, and when I looked in the closet of the office, there was a tiny door. I opened it and it led into another very small room. In that small room was a suitcase and a crumpled blanket and pillow on the floor. Like I said, the site of a future murder scene.

So, finding an office space wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. For one, I only had a few clients at this point. That meant that I would be paying out of pocket for a space until business picked up. For two, I wanted to base my office close to the central area of where I’d be practicing, and that was hard to do because I had cases all over the place in the early months of my practice.

I asked other new lawyers what they were doing for office space. Mostly they were either renting an office inside of an established law firm or using an office share. I looked into office shares, but found that they charged a ridiculous amount of money for the same services that I received from the Georgia Bar free of charge. One lawyer was paying another law firm to answer her phone calls and receive her mail, which she picked up twice a week. I thought this was a waste of money when a P.O. Box and an answering machine could do the same thing for a much cheaper price. And other lawyers were renting multiple office shares, mailboxes, and conference rooms all over the metro area to give off the appearance that they had offices in multiple locations. I didn’t think all of that was necessary.

I went to a networking event (I’ll discuss in detail at a later post) and met an established appellant attorney who worked from home. When she asked me where my office was, I told her I was still looking. She asked “Do you really need an office right now?” She told me that she did criminal appeals and met her clients at the jail, so there was no real need for a traditional office. Instead, she and her paralegal had set up an office in her house and it worked for them.

I thought about it and decided that for the most part I didn’t need an office. At this point, most of my clients were referrals from a low income legal clinic and I either traveled to them or met them at the Georgia Bar. I’ve even met clients at the public library a few times, but I wouldn’t recommend it- not even to my most hated opposing counsel.  When court appointed work became about 80% of my practice, it was clear that I didn’t necessarily need an office, so working from home became the most sensible option.

At first I worked from the living room. That was an undefined mess. Then I moved my work to the dining room table. Even messier. After a few months, I realized that I needed a designated space for my home office. For about 5 months, a friend I met in law school rented the front room of the house. He was an actor in search of his place in the sun. I mean this is Atlanta, movie capital of the world. When he left to pursue the warmth of other suns, it hit me that his empty room was the perfect place for Jones Law Office.

When I first moved my practice into the room, I treated it like a catch room, as in I just threw my files, pleadings, and legal books in and the room caught it. I used a round breakfast nook table to work on and I converted the door into a dry erase board for notes. It wasn’t very functional. After a few months, it donned on me that my home office should actually be an office, with (gasp) office furniture and (gasp again) shelves and similar trappings. So, I got busy on the redo. Wasn’t too hard: a square shaped desk on top of a rectangular rug to center the room, my rolling chair from the garage, two dry erase easels, a wall calendar, a few book shelves and drop baskets and poof, a productive and comfortable working space was born.

Now, I’ve been in solo practice for roughly 18 months and the set up is still working for me. I may outgrow it someday, but that will be something we can discuss as I continue building a practice. 

James Jones, Esq.

 

Seriously, what’s in a name? A law firm by any name would still bill $250 an hour, right? To borrow from Shakespeare, names are important – especially the name of a law practice. When I hung my shingle, I was very adamant about calling myself something that was professional, appropriate, and realistic.

So many of my law school classmates (and countless others whom I encountered) have themselves billed on Linkedin as the Managing Attorney of the Parks Group, or the Senior Legal Officer at Anything Legal Corporation. The tee to this hee is that they are actually solo practitioners.  As in, it’s just them. So, the question begs to be asked, can one be the managing attorney or senior legal officer of a one-person law firm or are names like these misleading?

When I struck out on this journey, I knew it would be just me. And I wanted it that way. I could go all in on days when I was feeling really lawyerly or throw a tantrum and burn pleadings in the backyard on days when I was fed up, without having to answer to “the firm.” And because I knew it would be just me, I chose a name that reflected such: Jones Law Office. It’s cute enough. Quaint. The name alone makes me feel like I have a legal assistant, a paralegal, and an office dog. All of which I have none. But you see how the name of a practice can convey certain beliefs to potential clients?

Which is why I think these solo practitioners with titles on social media that denote being a managing or senior attorney of a one person law firm is misleading. And I never wanted to mislead any potential clients. I’ve never tried to hide the fact that I work alone because I always hoped that potential clients who called me would be doing so because they were looking for an attorney like me.  So, to advertise that I work at the Jones Law Group or Jones and Associates would lead a potential client to think that there were several lawyers working out of my house.

A point to ponder is that “A sole practitioner may not use a firm name that includes ‘group’ or ‘& Associates’ because both terms would incorrectly imply that the sole practitioner practices with other lawyers.” (FORMAL ADVISORY OPINION NO. 16-3)

So as you ca see, I try really hard to not imply that I work at a law firm that can rival Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. And it’s done well for me so far. My clients like that when they call I’m the one who answers. They love the fact that all of their issues are handled by me – no middle people. I like the fact that I can take a nap in the middle of the office floor without having to answer to “the firm.”

I’ve had several offers to either link up with other solo practitioners, join start up firms, or become an associate at an established firm. I do alright for now. Most lawyers that I meet are ashamed of being solo practitioners. I guess they don’t place enough value on the freedom that comes with it. I don’t know if I will always be a law firm of one. But I don’t plan to change anytime soon, as I type this from my home office, in my pajamas, clocking these billable hours.

James Jones, Esq.