jonathan pearlman

jonathan pearlman

FINE ART Photography



I'm a bit of an legal idiot savant, dear listener.

I am not suggesting that I am legally recognised as an idiot savant (my muse would rather have it that I should be known as a qualified idiot). Rather, I have a severe ability to absorb, digest, regurgitate and interpret law and legislation. This is not a boast, it is (as it happens) an affliction. I cannot resile in the face of a legal wrong done to me or my kith and kin. I do enjoy a challenge or two, let's face it, but court appearances do have remarkably emotional side-effects.

But I am very rarely caught out, as it were, by those who hold qualifications to practice law. I am, in essence, always correct! Try me: Writs at High Noon if you wish, your choice of torts.

In the fog of law, contract law is (to my mind) the most difficult to interpret and comprehend. This elderly cousin-in-law to common law dates back almost 400 years with precedents seeping back so far in time they need to be aired and ironed before being applied.

Shopping, when one thinks about it, is always (always!) about contract law. Any transaction, come to think about it, is all about contract law. Ever wondered, dear listener, why telcos play their boring, monotonous and tedious recordings after you agree to sign up for their amazingly wonderful mobile 'phone plan? Contract law - the one that binds without the use of bran. Extricating yourself from a mobile 'phone contract is rather like having a severe bout of constipation.

I could wax for an age with all sorts of examples of pit-falls (and prat-falls) that abound. I won't because this is not a legal blog, or a series of lectures, or a legal broadcast. This is my blog where I try and entertain with my little adventures, hopefully without the ranting and ravings of some inveterate and vexatious litigant.

Dim the lights, dear listener (if you're still with me) and watch as I cast my mind back a few weeks to a small photographic assignment that we both attended. A friendly real estate agent commissioned us to take aerial photographs of a property she was marketing. The property itself a most disagreeable subject, as were the owners. Rude, bellicose and downright nasty; so much so they brought one half of Birdseye close to tears. Professionals that we are, we hoisted our chins and the mast in the air and snapped away for two hours. Processing, three hours and incidentals (travel, heat and accounting) two. A grand total of seven hours for the most wonderful prize of $220 + gst

Our reward? The agent refuses to pay the bill. She refuses to pay because in her odd little world an agreement (read: contract) may only be satisfied on her terms. The agent wrongly believes that the agreement lies with the property owners and us, not with her and us. They won'y pay (presumably because they didn't like the shape of the mast, the colour of our car, the make of my shorts, the cut of my cloth) and so she won't pay.

Problem is, someone has to pay. And it's not going to be me.

I might be many things, but I'm no idiot.

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