Those of you who are kind enough to follow my writing and are looking to fill some spare time by reading more of it http://www.williamgralnickauthor.com, you know or will find out that it doesn’t take much for me to go on a rant about commercials. They are dumbing down America. In fact, some are so dumb that I don’t understand how an actor in, let’s say, a commercial where he can’t manage to say his line with the product’s name would want to go through life known as the jerk who couldn’t say his line. Whatever…I’m off of insurance commercials and on to the personal injury industry. I’m writing this from personal experience.
Some two years ago I contracted pneumonia—three times. Between the 2nd and third time, the doctor decided to do a bronchoscopy. For the uninitiated, that’s a test where they flood your lungs with fluid, suction it out, and analyze what they find. Sounds nasty, but you’re asleep, so no matter. Long story short, the lab screwed up the analysis, telling me I didn’t have lung cancer, which was a relief, but also not the question asked about. When the doctor got the results back and realized what had happened, the doctor said to me, “I’ve done hundreds of these. I looked at the fluid; it was clear. You don’t have anything to worry about. We’ll treat the pneumonia again.” Now, I was a lousy chemistry student, but even so, I know you can’t see bacteria by looking at fluid in a test tube. Time for a second opinion.
Here’s the rest of the story. Yes, I had pneumonia, but the second bronchoscopy showed I had a rare bacterial lung infection. The reason I kept getting pneumonia was that they treated the wrong thing. I was flabbergasted and furious. Btw, I’m still being treated, with many more months to go. To me, this screamed MEDICAL MALPRACTICE. The rest of the story is how it didn’t scream Medical Malpractice to the Personal Injury lawyers—five different firms of them.
Now for the commercials. The next time you’re on the highway, in this case, I-95, look at the billboards. You don’t have to be concerned about taking your eyes off the road because the signs are so large they are, as designed, easy to read. There’s the one that says, “Size Matters.” Cute. Then there are ones that come at you like musical chords running up a scale, except instead of notes, they show numbers reflecting settlements. There’s one for $200,000, then another around $ 500 grand. In less than a quarter mile, someone is waving 2.3 million bucks at you. In a half mile, we’re up to $9.2 million; $22 mil comes next. And the winner is..? Ninety-two point six million dollars, yes, $92.6 million dollars. I’d hate to see the client whose accident netted almost $200 million dollars. But, guess what? Before I got to my destination, I was feeling that one of those numbers had my name on it. Wrong!
But before I found that out, television commercials reinforced my convictions. The “size matters” folks became a family wanting to get what you deserve. Mom is leading the way. In another, Dad takes the lead; in a third, the adult children take the lead, all of whom are in the fight for you. They have yet another commercial that tells you that if you get hit by an 18-wheeler, you’re probably gonna die or be crippled for life. Ouch.
Another firm has a jingle. It’s a good jingle. It’s about the firm’s name and partners, and it’s so good it’s hard to get out of your head. It becomes so annoying you wonder if you should have a lawyer to get what you deserve for having to listen to the commercial, which often runs multiple times in an hour’s program. And don’t think you can hide from it by changing channels. Oh no, it’s on all of them. Then there’s the very thankful lady so happy with the settlement that she says, “If I had another accident, I’d hire them again!” Well…duh. The most striking commercial shows two cars smashing into another. One flies through the air and lands on the hood of a third. We don’t know who got the prize, but it was big. But my favorite is the late-night guy. He’s different from the others in that he starts out yelling like his hair is on fire. The phone number to call is coming at you like artillery shells out of a mortar. It sounds like if you don’t call, life as you know it would never be the same. I have suffered. Someone made a major mistake that caused me to suffer. Aren’t I entitled?
I started with Mr. Size Matters. Well, I guess I wasn’t big enough, and an 18-wheeler hadn’t hit me. The jingle people called me no fewer than a dozen times, each time to tell me that they were reviewing my case, and someone would get back to me. It reminded me of the song from Oliver Twist: “I’m Reviewing the Situation.” They did, 11 more times, then they stopped calling. I called them. “Oh, we’re sorry. Didn’t someone get back to you? We’re not able to take your case.” Of course they are able; they just didn’t want to. I called them all, all except the hair-on-fire guy. I’d rather not have the money than be represented by that looney tune.
Here’s what I learned. While all the firms try to differentiate themselves, the process is the same. And the process never starts with a lawyer. In fact, I spoke to a lawyer in only two cases; one didn’t count. That lawyer was a junior partner sort who only called to say he was a lawyer and to tell you that another lawyer was looking into my case. The second time, I spoke to a name partner. Impressed? Don’t be. I knew his father, but that wasn’t enough to get my case handled.
So, what does it take? Before I give you my snide answer, I must be fair. Every commercial stresses that if a firm takes your case, you pay nothing unless it is won. That means the firm is laying out thousands, maybe tens of thousands, and sometimes more, out of its own pocket. The stress on the attorneys must be terrific. You don’t want to be the lawyer who walks into the meeting and says, ”I lost the case. Clearly, they are looking for what comes closest to a sure bet.
Here’s why. The legislature has been tough on the profession. I’m guessing that in Florida, a firm has to take more cases to net the same amount of money it would make on those same cases in another state. Here’s why:
Florida is difficult for big personal injury settlements because major tort reform laws—especially House Bill 837—drastically shifted the legal rules to favor insurance companies and restrict large payouts. There is the 50% rule. Under Florida’s modified comparative negligence law, if a plaintiff is found more than 50% at fault for an accident, they recover. So, Insurance companies now aggressively argue that plaintiffs share the blame to reduce or completely eliminate settlement offers.
It is tough to get evidence from the insurance companies. Juries and adjusters may not see the actual medical bills, and plaintiffs can often show only the lower rates insurance companies negotiated. This lowers the calculated value of their medical damages.
Talk about stress. If you’re a PI attorney, you better move fast because the statute of limitations for general personal injury claims has been reduced from four years to two. This leaves lawyers less time to build massive, complex cases.
Finally, there’s this. New laws give insurance companies a 90-day window to settle claims and avoid costly “bad faith” lawsuits. It protects insurers from massive multi-million-dollar penalties, and Florida law penalizes plaintiffs who reject reasonable settlement offers. If a trial verdict is 25% less than the rejected offer, the plaintiff must pay the defendant’s legal fees and costs. Now many lawyers are forced to accept lower settlements. In sum, this is a brutal way to make a living. ( Editor’s note: I’m not a lawyer, and I relied heavily on AI for this information. Facts were checked.)
So what does it take? Realistically, it takes getting really badly hurt and hurt in such a way that the police aren’t going to cite you for the accident and the insurance company isn’t going to tie you up in knots attached to bundles that say, “What if…? or maybe, or anything smacking of the conditional tense. You need to get smashed by an 18-wheeler. One firm even calls them killing machines. There’s a reason the jingle folks show a three-car crash with one car flying through the air and landing on another’s hood. That’s pretty much what it takes, so if you have an accident and feel aggrieved, you better be in bad enough shape that someone has to make the call for you. At least, that’s the way I see it.
Columnist and author Bill Gralnick was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY. He recently finished a humorous memoir trilogy. The first book is “The War of the Itchy Balls and Other Tales from Brooklyn.” The second is “George Washington Didn’t Sleep Here.” The recently published third is, That’s Why They Call It Work.” He is currently working on a novel. His books are available on Amazon and his other writings at https://www.williamgralnickauthor.com.
