Let’s go straight to docs: Difference between revisions

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{{a|negotiation|
{{a|negotiation|
[[File:Road to Hell.png|450px|frameless|center]]
{{image|Road to Hell|png|}}
}}Something only a [[private practice lawyer]] would think to say, usually as a reaction to a perceived lack of time or resources.  
}}Something only a [[private practice lawyer]] would think to say, usually as a reaction to a perceived lack of time or resources.  


{{quote|“Oh cripes that time line is hyper-aggressive, and this could all go totally [[pear-shaped]]. We don’t have ''time'' for a [[term-sheet]]; let’s just crack on and go straight to docs.”<ref>Imagine a privately-educated, Oxbridge-graduated north-London accent saying “pear-shaped” and “crack on” if you please.</ref>}}
{{quote|“Oh cripes that time line is hyper-aggressive, and this could all go totally [[pear-shaped]]. We don’t have ''time'' for a [[term-sheet]]; let’s just crack on and go straight to docs.”<ref>Imagine a privately-educated, Oxbridge-graduated north-London accent saying “pear-shaped” and “crack on” if you please.</ref>}}


Look: if you are doing something easy and homogenous like an [[NDA]], ''maybe'' there is some sense in that — though none in engaging a [[private practice lawyer]] in the first place, of course. (What are you, ''mad''? Go [[OneNDA]]!)
Look: if you are doing something easy and homogenous like an [[NDA]], ''maybe'' there is some sense in that — though none in engaging a [[private practice lawyer]] to advise you on it in the first place, of course. (What are you, ''mad?'' Go [[OneNDA]]!)


Whenevver engaging [[external counsel]] ''does'' make sense, dispensing with a [[termsheet]] is a charter for ''utter disaster''.  
Whenever engaging [[external counsel]] ''does'' make sense, dispensing with a [[termsheet]] is a charter for ''utter disaster''.  


The main points of any commercial arrangement are generally few, easily articulated and well-suited to the clipped tabular adumbration of a [[termsheet]]. There they can be haggled over, refined and beaten to a fine copper plate ''in the abstract'', by the principals, quickly and without ceremony. These women and men should trust themselves to agree terms without legal help, even if we forensic ''[[rentier|rentiers]]'' quail at the thought. If they do, then by ''we'' get a look in, the heat will have dissipated, the principles will be settled, the merchants’ [[Consensus ad idem|minds will have met]] and they will just want to get cracking with whatever they have resolved to do.  
The main points of any commercial arrangement are generally few, easily articulated and well-suited to the clipped, tabular timbre of a [[termsheet]]. There they can be haggled over, refined and beaten to a fine copper plate ''in the abstract'', by the principals, quickly, without ceremony and ''without lawyers''. These women and men should know their onions and therefore should trust themselves to agree commercial terms without legal help: it’s their money, after all.


Each will, therefore, urge its counsel on with the following words:
It is a sacred, but oft forgotten rule: [[the business owns legal issues]]. There’s even a [[Latin|Latinism]] for it: ''[[Ignorantia juris non excusat]]''.


{{quote|“Look, just get on with it, would you? I am not paying you to fiddle around in the [[weeds]]. Make sure the [[termsheet]] is adequately reflected, we haven’t missed anything obvious but in any weather ''be sharp about it''. Do not [[due dilly|dilly dally]].”}}
If the business faces up to its sacred responsibility, then by the time the [[Legal eagle|legal eagles]] get a look in, the heat will have dissipated, the merchants’ [[Consensus ad idem|minds will have met]], the commercials will be settled and everyone — other than the legal eagles — will just want to get cracking with whatever business they have resolved to do. Yes, yes, yes: there is the inevitable pettifoggery and [[verbiage]] that we must go through “to dot the i’s and cross the t’s” so, sure: let’s hand it over to the lawyers, but let’s put a ''rocket'' under them.  


This will disappoint most [[legal eagle]]s — like all performance artists, they like to be the main event — but still it ''must'' be the most effective critical path.
Each principal will, therefore, commend the “legals” into its counsel’s care with the following words:


Starting, instead, with “docs” cannot be as quick. To be sure, the first cut of a [[Indenture|trust indenture]] ''may'' have all those key commercial elements built into it, but may not, and if it does they will be dispersed randomly and cryptically throughout its 90-page heft.
{{quote|“Look, just get on with it, would you? I am not paying you to fiddle around in the [[weeds]]. Make sure the [[termsheet]] is adequately reflected and we haven’t missed anything obvious, but in any weather ''be sharp about it''. Do not [[due dilly|dilly dally]].”}}


Which one must read, [[In toto|''in toto'']]. The modern ''[[rechtsadler]]'' knows but one way to review a trust indenture: she must start at the beginning and work her way through to the end. Should she encounter even a ''whiff'' of [[indemnity]], [[Limitation of recourse|recourse limitation]] or exclusivity on the way however ill-judged, or insignificant, or uncalled-for it may be — she will be drawn to it as a moth is to a lamp. She will have to ''address'' it. To hell with the main commercial terms: this existential risk must be addressed, and now.
This will disappoint most [[legal eagle]]s like all performance artists, lawyers like to be the main event but still it ''must'' be the critical path.  


Whereupon, strap yourselves in for six months of torture as this performance grinds on: counsel will get waylaid with every typo, representation and scheduled form of drawdown request notice such that they may never make it to the gritty commercial terms. They may never even ''find'' them. Most likely, they will never even know what they ''are''.
“Going straight to docs” is a deal counsel’s high wire act, only it is her [[client]] who must do without a safety net. To be sure, the first cut of a [[Indenture|trust indenture]] ''may'' capture all the key commercial elements, but it probably won’t, and even if it does they will be scattered like dandelion fronds throughout its 290-page heft.
 
A 290-page heft which, to find them, one must thereby read, [[In toto|''in toto'']]. The modern ''[[rechtsadler]]'' knows but one way to review a legal contract: she must start at the beginning and work her careful way to the end. Should she meet an [[indemnity]], [[Limitation of recourse|limitation]], exclusivity or a cavalier [[warranty]] on the way — however ill-judged, insignificant or uncalled-for — or even a ''typo'', she will be drawn to it, as is a moth to a lamp. She will have to ''address'' it. To ''hell'' with the main commercial terms: this existential juridical risk must be addressed, and ''now''.
 
Whereupon, principals: strap yourselves in for six months of torture as the performance art grinds on: every [[Definitions|definition]], cross-reference, [[representation]] and scheduled form of drawdown request notice will waylay progress, so much so that the lawyers may never make it to the gritty commercial terms. They may never even ''find'' them. Most likely, they will never even know what they ''are''.


A good [[termsheet]] is a discipline: a [[cocktail napkin]]; the contextualised essence of whatever the turgid entropic mass of final [[verbiage]] will, in its perverse and circuitous manner, eventually reflect.  
A good [[termsheet]] is a discipline: a [[cocktail napkin]]; the contextualised essence of whatever the turgid entropic mass of final [[verbiage]] will, in its perverse and circuitous manner, eventually reflect.  


Don’t ''ever'' go “straight to docs”.
''Never'' go “straight to docs”.


{{sa}}
{{sa}}
*[[Talk, don’t email]]
*[[Cocktail napkin]]
*[[Private practice lawyer]]
*[[Private practice lawyer]]
*The [[weeds]]
*The [[weeds]]

Latest revision as of 15:26, 27 October 2023

Negotiation Anatomy™


Road to Hell.png


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Something only a private practice lawyer would think to say, usually as a reaction to a perceived lack of time or resources.

“Oh cripes that time line is hyper-aggressive, and this could all go totally pear-shaped. We don’t have time for a term-sheet; let’s just crack on and go straight to docs.”[1]

Look: if you are doing something easy and homogenous like an NDA, maybe there is some sense in that — though none in engaging a private practice lawyer to advise you on it in the first place, of course. (What are you, mad? Go OneNDA!)

Whenever engaging external counsel does make sense, dispensing with a termsheet is a charter for utter disaster.

The main points of any commercial arrangement are generally few, easily articulated and well-suited to the clipped, tabular timbre of a termsheet. There they can be haggled over, refined and beaten to a fine copper plate in the abstract, by the principals, quickly, without ceremony and without lawyers. These women and men should know their onions and therefore should trust themselves to agree commercial terms without legal help: it’s their money, after all.

It is a sacred, but oft forgotten rule: the business owns legal issues. There’s even a Latinism for it: Ignorantia juris non excusat.

If the business faces up to its sacred responsibility, then by the time the legal eagles get a look in, the heat will have dissipated, the merchants’ minds will have met, the commercials will be settled and everyone — other than the legal eagles — will just want to get cracking with whatever business they have resolved to do. Yes, yes, yes: there is the inevitable pettifoggery and verbiage that we must go through “to dot the i’s and cross the t’s” so, sure: let’s hand it over to the lawyers, but let’s put a rocket under them.

Each principal will, therefore, commend the “legals” into its counsel’s care with the following words:

“Look, just get on with it, would you? I am not paying you to fiddle around in the weeds. Make sure the termsheet is adequately reflected and we haven’t missed anything obvious, but in any weather be sharp about it. Do not dilly dally.”

This will disappoint most legal eagles — like all performance artists, lawyers like to be the main event — but still it must be the critical path.

“Going straight to docs” is a deal counsel’s high wire act, only it is her client who must do without a safety net. To be sure, the first cut of a trust indenture may capture all the key commercial elements, but it probably won’t, and even if it does they will be scattered like dandelion fronds throughout its 290-page heft.

A 290-page heft which, to find them, one must thereby read, in toto. The modern rechtsadler knows but one way to review a legal contract: she must start at the beginning and work her careful way to the end. Should she meet an indemnity, limitation, exclusivity or a cavalier warranty on the way — however ill-judged, insignificant or uncalled-for — or even a typo, she will be drawn to it, as is a moth to a lamp. She will have to address it. To hell with the main commercial terms: this existential juridical risk must be addressed, and now.

Whereupon, principals: strap yourselves in for six months of torture as the performance art grinds on: every definition, cross-reference, representation and scheduled form of drawdown request notice will waylay progress, so much so that the lawyers may never make it to the gritty commercial terms. They may never even find them. Most likely, they will never even know what they are.

A good termsheet is a discipline: a cocktail napkin; the contextualised essence of whatever the turgid entropic mass of final verbiage will, in its perverse and circuitous manner, eventually reflect.

Never go “straight to docs”.

See also

References

  1. Imagine a privately-educated, Oxbridge-graduated north-London accent saying “pear-shaped” and “crack on” if you please.