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Some legal advice will withstand the test of time.
Don’t steal, don’t murder, don’t accept a foreign nation’s help when running for President of the United States, to name just a few.
Those bits of legal advice were just as true a hundred years ago as they are today, and as they will be in another hundred years. Like a good Twinkie, that advice will never expire.
But outside of the blatantly obvious examples from criminal law, sometimes legal advice can have a shelf life. In the world of contract law, your advice may last as long as some unopened pasta sauce, which according to the jar in my pantry is about three years.
Other advice related to an active negotiation may only have the lifespan of package of unopened bologna, which the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) says I can keep in my refrigerator for a couple of weeks. Why the CDC declined the opportunity to advise you to never eat bologna is a debate for another time.
And the last category might have a shelf life of mere hours, say legal advice given in a rapidly changing environment or in the midst of an unforeseen crisis. Like your lunch from Taco Bell, that advice may get the job done, but you will probably pay dearly for it later, and in no circumstances should you reheat it in the morning.
Regardless of the shelf life of your advice, it is always a good idea to take a regular inventory of whatever advice you have lingering our there to ensure it is still good for your client and won’t cause them any harm, like that weird thing in the back of your refrigerator’s fruit door that has begun to grow hair.
Recently I had the chance to visit one of our hospitals as a patient rather than in my role as in-house counsel. As I sat at the registration desk, I scanned the numerous signs and placards adorning the desk until I set my gaze on a rather familiar one, as it was one I drafted… over four years ago.
Four years ago our hospital was implementing a new payment system which changed the forms of payments we would accept. Although it was a routine change, since it discussed payment with patients in a hospital, legal was asked to draft the language so as not to fall into any EMTALA pitfalls.
The creation of the sign was a worthwhile effort and the involvement of legal was necessary at the time. But its shelf life had long since expired.
Now all the remained was yet another sign cluttering the registration desk which could add to patient confusion and result in questions a registration team member likely forgot the answers to about three years ago.
Needless to say, after I returned to my role as in-house counsel, I promptly made some calls to ensure the signs were removed and I set about taking an inventory of any other expired advice that may be lingering.
Although we may be remiss to admit it, our legal advice rarely ages like fine wine. Save your client from sniffing that carton of milk that’s well past its prime and remember to regularly review your advice’s expiration date.
Stephen R. Williams is in-house counsel with a multi-facility hospital network in the Midwest. His column focuses on a little talked about area of the in-house life, management. You can reach Stephen at stephenwilliamsjd@gmail.com.
