NOVEMBER 6, 2026 – Our younger son, Byron, adheres to a routine of calling my wife and me (alternating between us) at least once a week on his 40-minute commute home from work. We communicate with him and his family regularly at other times, but the “drive time” talks are reserved for deeper conversations about matters of mutual interest. Since my wife’s current 10-day visit with Byron’s family has another two days to go, his call today was my mine.
I so enjoy these calls. Finance and business are Byron’s bread and butter, and believe it or not, they are subjects of great academic as well as practical interest to me. Business law—my bread and butter—is a common touchpoint in Byron’s world, as well, and infiltrates our conversations quite often. Then there’s politics, which is intertwined with economics—the backdrop and foundation of finance, business, and law—so naturally, we wind up talking lots about that realm too.
Byron’s disposition is eminently moderate, reasonable, and pragmatic. He subscribes to a solid set of ideals, but he doesn’t let “perfect be the enemy of good” in his political judgments and expectations. What transcends ideals, however, at least in the daily grind of both business and politics, is character. And Byron is all about character—he himself exuding good character but also discerning of character in others he observes and with whom he interacts.
With the election results still the talk of the day, we devoted a solid 20 minutes to hopeful discussion of the portends recognizable thus far. We also “talked biz.” I recounted the experience I enjoyed this morning interacting with an out-of-state lawyer on a real estate deal here in Minnesota. It was our first direct contact, and in the run-up to the call, contract negotiations—characterizing them charitably—had led to a frustrating “battle of the forms.”
To avoid such conflicts with lawyers I don’t know, I’ve found that what usually works is to develop a personal and positive rapport; engage in some basic due diligence on the attorney to identify something in the person’s background or among their interests that can serve as a platform for establishing trust and confidence. On today’s call, the lawyer was based in Buffalo, NY, and among his other extra-curricular interests listed on the firm’s website was his membership on the board of “Blood Cancer United.” Bingo! Right from the get-go I could make easy connections: A lifetime ago, I’d spent a summer selling books door-to-door in Buffalo, and given the lawyer’s work with the blood cancer organization, it was fair to assume he’d have some awareness of MM. Moreover, soon after my stem cell transplant in August 2022, my transplant/research doc had transplanted himself to the University of . . . Buffalo.
“Before we get down to biz,” I said at the outset of the call, “I have to tell you about my Buffalo connections.” As I’d anticipated, these worked as effective conversation starters.To his credit, the lawyer was an eminently decent human being, and we soon found ourselves exchanging information and anecdotes about ourselves, our practices, our philosophy of practice, and so on.
“I’m going to send you a link,” he said, well into the enjoyable conversation, “to a podcast that my partner [also working on the deal at hand] gave recently about the practice of law. I know you’ll appreciate it, because he talks about the very things about practicing that you’ve highlighted.”
When we did get down to business, we had an easy time of it. He was no longer a distant faceless name, and I now had an extensive frame of reference by which to gauge his level of competence, integrity, and character. He proved to be far more accommodating than his redlined contract language had signalled.
After the call, I listened attentively to the hour-long podcast he’d sent, entitled, “Don’t Over-Lawyer: Contracts Based on Trust.” My reaction—which I later conveyed by email to the lawyers—was that the presentation should be worked into a business law CLE (“continuing legal education”) seminar. I couldn’t include that hour in today’s billable time nor could I claim it as a “CLE” credit, but I benefited handsomely from the wisdom imparted by the podcast. Furthermore, I gained invaluable insight into the lawyer’s approach to drafting contracts generally, and the reasoning behind much of the language he’d inserted in his redlined version of my client’s original draft of the proposed agreement.
Today’s encounter advanced our deal—and the parties’ mutual interests—by a country mile . . . and reminded me yet again why I enjoy the practice of law. At the close of my follow-up email, I wrote, “I look forward to working with you to get the prospective deal to the starting line—then to the finishing tape . . . in what should be a low-hurdle sprint, not a mud-splashed steeplechase.” It prompted an immediate positive reply.
I recounted all this to Byron, and he understood exactly what I was describing. In his own work he’s fully vested in the value of “the human factor.” He described the example of a recent candidate applying at his firm. The person had been given a list of the people he’d be meeting. Armed with that, the applicant did his homework and for each interviewer, found something of interest to talk about. Byron applauded the guy’s astuteness in human relations.
“Especially with the rise of private equity,” Byron told me, “too often the exclusive focus is on financial optimization. The value of the human factor is ignored or dismissed, and I think that’s a big mistake.”
I thought about the current business love-fest with AI as a driver of efficiency and “optimization.” AI certainly has its place—as do improved efficiency and productivity—but Byron’s take is wise. The value of the human factor, as exhibited by the job candidate at his firm and my conversation with the distant lawyer, can’t be duplicated by AI.
Not yet, anyway.
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
