Lawyers

September 6th 2007

Remember my father-and-son lawyers? Well, my mother and I had to go over the final statement with them this week, before they officially put our lawsuit in motion.

Now, for those of you not familiar with the subtleties of the Greek language (I’m guessing there are a few), we no longer speak the Greek Homer used in the Iliad. Sure, the same basic forms remain, and some words are comprehensible, but overall it’s as if you tried to speak the English of King Arthur. Ancient Greek evolved into a sort of Middle-Ages version around the time of Byzantium and slowly gave way to a more modern version as a lot of foreign words (from the Frank, Venetian, and Turkish invaders among others) were incorporated into the language over the next centuries.

Around the time the Greeks won their independence from the Turks (roughly 1821), someone had the brilliant idea to fabricate a new language for the new country. They proudly derived a new language from the old and called it “Katharevousa”, which could roughly be translated as “the clean language”.

Great, you say. Except this “clean” language is one of the most complex you can imagine. Imagine not only using sentences composed entirely of words such as “Dost” and “thou”, but also a language in which every single detail must be clarified to the point of making sentences completely unintelligible. Katharevousa has by now been completely supplanted by a much simpler language in everyday usage, but unfortunately it still remains in use for official documents, government texts, medical, and of course legal documents.

The closest translation I can come up with goes something like this, and it does not give you the full flavor of this mystic “Katharevousa”. I have simplified a lot and added the explanations in brackets in the hope of adding clarity:

“As said sufferer number 1 [i.e. my mother] was seated in the rear left seat next to said sufferer number 2 [i.e: me] who was seated in the rear right seat of the moving vehicle for hire [i.e.: taxi], authorized circulation number #98767866544 [OK, I’m just inventing here] driven by Mr. P. Nikolos on the moving circulation route [highway] Vouliagmenis going in the direction of Athens, whereby there are 3 circulation bands at that conjecture [they used a more complex word, but have mercy] that forcibly become 4 circulation bands, thereby forcing the vehicles going in the direction of Athens to displace themselves into that 4th band should they have the intent to turn left onto Street Pringipos Petrou, said sufferers number 1 and 2 were therefore in above-mentioned moving vehicle for hire when it moved onto the 4th circulation band and stopped at the crimson signalization apparatus [they didn’t use red in those days, nor lights, I guess], behind another vehicle for personal use [= private car]. Thus, when the signalization apparatus turned emerald [apparently they didn’t like green either], thereby indicating to cars stationed on the 4th band of the [highway] in the direction of Athens that they were now at liberty to turn left on [that street], both vehicles turned left, moving into the path of the incoming circulation bands of moving circulation route Vouliagmenis [name of the highway] going in the direction of Vouliagmeni [name of an area]. That is when, with undue, extreme and reckless speed, the vehicle for personal use of Mrs X [can you believe it? I don’t know the name of the woman who hit us] passed in front of the crimson signalization apparatus without coming to a stop or applying the use of speed decelerators [= breaks] and with extreme force came up against afore-mentioned moving vehicle for hire #98767866544, thus displacing it several acres in the direction of Vouliagmeni and causing above-mentioned grievous injuries to both sufferers.”

Did you understand everything? It took me a while. Now imagine someone reading this to you at the speed of light: “Assaidsufferernumberonewasseatedintherearleftseat…” You get the picture. There were 80 pages of this. No wonder we spent over 3 hours there. In fact, no wonder our lawyer needed a vacation.

Our lawyers had us over at their home, in Northern Athens. The sister brought us water and tiny ice-cream cones when we arrived and then disappeared inside with her mother. After observing the constant father-son bickering with an amused smile, my mother and I suddenly looked at each other in dismay: here was the masculine version of us!

The conversations went something like this:

Son: [reading text at the speed of light] “As said sufferer number 1 exited the place of getting well [=hospital] …on September 23rd 2005…”

Father: “Wait wait, what was that about September the 23rd? That was 2006, not 2005!”

Son: “No dad, it was 2005. That’s when they had the accident.”

Father: “Wait, give me that.”

Son [firmly holding on to paper]: “No, dad, come on, that’s what it says, it’s right.”

Father: “Give it here!”

[Son reluctantly hands paper over. Small pause while father peruses the text, then turns to us:]

Father: “This here says that you were released from the hospital…”

My mother: “Yes, that’s right.”

Father: “…on September 23rd 2005.”

My mother: “Yes, that’s right.”

Father: “Is that correct?”

My mother: “YES, THAT’S RIGHT.”

Father [to his son]: “OK, keep going. “

Son [After long-suffering sigh]: “…and said sufferer number 1 was then displaced to the home of the woman who gave her birth [= mother]…”

Father: “Just a second.”

Son: “Dad!”

Father: “Were you moved to your mother’s home or your own?”

My mother: “My mother’s, I couldn’t walk up the stairs to mine.”

Father: “All right, proceed.”

Son: ”…with her daughter…”

Father: “Wait.”

Son: “Dad, come ON!”

Father [to me]: “Did you move to your grandmother’s place or your mother’s?”

Me: “My mother’s. I was able to go up the stairs.”

Father: [turning to his son and gesturing dangerously close to the paper with his lit cigarette] “See? You must change this!”

Son: “Yes, I know, I’ve made a note of it.”

Father: “But don’t forget!”

Son: “I won’t! Can we move on now?!”

Father: “Sure. Hand me an ice-cream cone, will you?”

Son: “Dad, you know it’s not good for you, with your diabetes.”

Father: “So?” [Pointing at cigarette in his hand] “This is not good for me either.”

[Son sighs and hands him ice-cream cone.]


Anyway, this as I said went on for about 3 hours.

About halfway through, namely 9 pm-ish, I suddenly felt ravenously hungry, and hinted at my mother that since we were clearly stuck here for another couple of hours, we should order something to eat. My mother threw me a disapproving glance and tersely said “Absolutely not.”

At which point I leaned forward and said to our lawyers: “I’m sorry, but I’m starving. Is there any chance we might order a pizza or something?’ The son exclaimed “But of course!” (clearly hungry as well), just as my mother exclaimed “Laura! I must apologize for my daughter…”

She didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence, since the father interrupted her, vehemently waving his cigarette: “LET THE CHILD EAT, SINCE SHE’S HUNGRY!!”

Don’t you love these people?

The son called for a pizza to be delivered and we continued reading the indigestible document until the pizza arrived. When it did, I grabbed my wallet to pay, but the son was adamant, raising the eminently Greek and absolutely unassailable argument: “You cannot pay for something in MY house!” I had to surrender.

Meanwhile, his mother had set up the table on the veranda before disappearing once again, and the 4 of us, father-son and mother-daughter, were soon settled around the pizza, ravenously eating while discussing our holidays, the state of Greece in general and the interesting fact that the son was the only tall one in the family. Both father and son insisted that I eat the biggest piece, and the father then brought us some sweet grapes for dessert.

Now don’t tell me this would EVER happen in the US.

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SOME FEEDBACK ABOUT THIS NEWSLETTER:

Mik J:
Oh, come now, Neri, it would--it does--"happen in the U.S."
Gooooood story, at any rate.
I am still laughing.

Amy T:
No Laura you're right. It would never happen in the US. I know lawyers (my dad, husband, father-in-law) ... pretty much my whole family ... and they NEVER have their clients to their houses. NEVER!!!

Wes K:
It might be eerily similar, except that a lawyer in the US would pay $20 for the pizza and then bill you $300/hr for the hour you spent eating.