Mark Herrmann, the in-house legal columnist at Above the Law, has a bone to pick today and it's one the opiners out there are intimately familiar with:
When I worked at a law firm, I knew that lawyers’ responses to audit letters — in which the firm confirms to auditors the status of litigation pending against a client — were a massive waste of time.
Go on…
I always assumed that someone — the client, the auditors, someone — thought those ridiculous letters served a purpose. Now I’ve gone in-house, and it turns out that audit letters serve no purpose at all….Corporations send the letters because the auditors insist that the letters be sent. The corporations don’t much care what the law firm responses say (unless they contradict something shown in the corporate files, or something the corporation has told the auditors), because the corporations don’t use the letters for anything.Remarkably, the auditors don’t really use these communications for anything, either. The auditors ask corporations to send requests for information to their outside lawyers because some accounting rule requires that the letters be sent. But the auditors know that they won’t receive any useful information in return: “The European law firms usually just ignore audit letters. And the American firms send back boilerplate that doesn’t tell us anything about the litigation that we didn’t already know. We solicit the information only because we’re required to; it doesn’t add any value.”
As a partner at a firm, I knew that responding to audit letters was an expensive nuisance: A full-time audit letter assistant cranked out first drafts of responses to the letters. (That’s all she did, eight hours per day, 52 weeks per year — honest.) The appropriate client relationship partner reviewed each draft. An “audit letter review partner” (I had the misfortune to be one of those for four or five years) took another pass at the thing. Only then — after the letter had been stripped of all content — did the response go out the door. That was an awful lot of time and money invested to insure that the firm didn’t accidentally say something.


Do you guys remember Tripp Davis? Last year, this number-crunching Southern gentleman from Mississippi