There’s a lot of talk these days about what AI can do. Draft briefs. Review documents. Analyze contracts. Conduct research. Brainstorm ideas. Solve problems. And I’d be the first to say, AI can do a lot. But there’s something AI can’t give you. A mindset.

The determination to find a way to solve your client’s problem, no matter how difficult it looks. The instinct to start with yes instead of no and then figure it out. The willingness to keep looking when the obvious answer doesn’t work. And the understanding that what clients really want isn’t a recitation of all the reasons something can’t be done.
That Damn Bin
I was on a flight recently. You know the drill. We all pile on, stuff our bags in the overhead and hope there aren’t any delays. Then the flight attendants come through and close all the overheads with a bang. Except this time, they didn’t. Or couldn’t.
The overhead across the aisle from me wouldn’t close. The attendant keeps banging it shut. Bang. Bang. Bang. Like the tenth bang is going to get a different result.
It just won’t close. The attendant goes and gets another attendant. That attendant somehow thinks that his banging on the overhead to try to close it is better than attendant number one’s. It isn’t.
Then one of them says, “Let’s go get the pilot.” An obvious expert in overhead bin closure.
He comes out. More banging. After all, he’s a pilot. Maybe his bangs are better. Still won’t close even with the pilot’s touch.
Then the pilot gets a bright idea. He fiddles with the latch. Wiggles it. Pokes it. Sticks his fingers in it. Then more bangs. The stubborn bin door just won’t close. Now the three start whispering.
We all know what they are saying. If they can’t get the bin to close, we aren’t going anywhere. We will have to deboard. Maybe the flight will even get canceled. All because one bin won’t close.
Then one attendant says, let’s call maintenance. Off the huddle scurries and gets on the phone in the front of the plane. We all look at each other and the open bin yawning at us.
When maintenance comes, they will probably want to replace the latch. A latch that looks like it’s bolted in with more screws than the number of billable hours on the last invoice you sent a client. Plus, they will have to find a replacement latch. God knows how long that will take.
Ten minutes later maintenance shows up. You know, the guys in the orange vests. Only this time there is only one guy. He takes one look at the bin. Moves the bags in it to another bin.
Then without fiddling with the latch or banging the bin door to try to close it, he whips out a roll of tape. Tape. Tapes the bin shut.
Problem solved
Probably thinking he’s surrounded by idiots, he then writes on the tape: “Do Not Open.” All of this takes him about 5 minutes. He turns to leave to a round of applause from thankful flyers. Problem solved.
And then there was my money order. I know. I sound like Walt Kowalski. But I needed to get a money order cashed. The clerk looked at me. Looked at the money order. Rolled her eyes. Was adamant the purchaser and recipient had to be the same person. Which, of course, would make a money order a pretty peculiar way to pay somebody else.
I got her to call management. Several times. After multiple calls, while I waited patiently (because I’m such a patient guy, right?), a manager type came, took one look at the money order, and said, “Run it through like a check.” Two minutes later I had my money. Problem solved.
The most valuable person isn’t necessarily the one who knows the most. It’s the one who figures out how to solve the problem
What’s This Have to Do with Practicing Law?
Ok, Embry, so what? Your flight went off with a slight delay. You got your money. Who cares?
Anyone who serves clients ought to care. Let’s face it. The most valuable person isn’t necessarily the one who knows the most. It’s the one who figures out how to solve the problem.
That maintenance guy didn’t say, “Nothing I can do.” He didn’t keep trying what the flight attendants or the pilot had already tried. He didn’t consult AI. He pulled out his f-ing tape and solved the problem.
The manager didn’t turn the money order into a philosophical debate. She recognized what needed to be done.
What do you think clients want when they come to you? They want their problems solved. Quickly and efficiently and without a waste of time. Without spending a fortune.
I have talked before about one of my former partners. Charley wasn’t the smartest lawyer in the firm, by his own admission. In fact, some of the firm intellectual heavyweights would laugh at Charley because they thought he didn’t know much about the law.
But Charley knew something they didn’t. His clients, and he had a slew of them, came to him because he tried to solve their problems. Efficiently. Simply.
His starting point was always yes.
He told me one time that he would never tell a client something couldn’t be done. It was not in his DNA. He would listen and say, “We can’t go about it this way, but here’s what we can do.” His starting point was always yes.
Not all of Charley’s solutions were squarely within precedent or the letter of the law. He never did anything the law didn’t allow, but he did things that might have seemed like long shots. His approach: “I’ll do everything I can to get you where you want to go.” He didn’t simply shrug his shoulders and say there was nothing he could do. That the recipient and purchaser just had to be the same.
Charley wasn’t afraid to try things. To try solutions that the intellectuals would roll their eyes at. He won more than he lost, but even when he lost, his clients walked away saying, “I’ll be damned. I have a lawyer who tried his hardest. Who cared.” And that, my friends, is why Charley, poor “dumb” Charley, had one of the biggest books of business in the firm.
Here’s a story about Charley that tells you about who he was. When it came time to go to college, Charley didn’t have the money to attend the school of his choice. Now, for most of us, that would be the end of it. But not Charley.
He marched into the admissions office of the school. Told the admission officer his name and said, “I’m going to get a degree from this school, and we are going to figure out how to make that happen.” The officer was so impressed that he helped Charley do just that.
Charley graduated from that school. And from its law school. By the way, by the time he passed away, Charley had become one of the school’s biggest donors.
They weren’t thinking about fixing the problem as quickly and simply as they could.

Here’s another example. I was on the board of a nonprofit that helped students financially to attend schools they otherwise couldn’t. When a family called seeking help, the nonprofit’s response was always: “The answer is yes.” Then it found a way. Just like Charley.
The point is that the flight attendants, the pilot, and the clerk weren’t Charleys. They weren’t like my nonprofit. They weren’t thinking about fixing the problem as quickly and simply as they could. They didn’t start from the mindset of yes.
It’s awfully easy these days to think of problems as things that AI can solve. And it’s true that AI can brainstorm and come up with lots of ideas.
But it doesn’t have the personal commitment to keep going when the first answer doesn’t work. It doesn’t have a professional relationship with the client. It doesn’t possess the determination that made Charley such a successful lawyer.
The danger is that we start confusing the ability to generate answers with the willingness to solve problems. Those are two very different things. Use it to find approaches, but don’t mistake it for the thing that makes you valuable.
In the end, you have to pursue getting to yes with all your heart and soul. Want to have a big book of business and happy clients? Be a Charley. Find a way to solve their problem. Pull out your tape and close the damn bin.
