BlawgBlawgBlawg - SUE Magazine for Women Litigator

When Marketing Yourself Turns Into Your Dream Job

We're all getting pretty good at marketing ourselves.  We have the added advantage these days of social networking to market ourselves to people we normally would not have even considered in the past.  We read in every blog; peruse in every magazine and snooze through every seminar that pounds into our heads that you can't get anywhere in today's world without "tooting your own horn".  And, boy, do I hate that phrase.  

                But on occasion, marketing yourself, even when you are not seeking a new job, pays off because you can create an interest in your background from a potential employer who decides you would fit into their organization and they have to have you.  Let me tell you a true story about that:

                I don’t make a habit of writing about my own experiences but…..a few years ago while minding my own business (literally), I was approached by a major staffing organization (big players – cool $5+ billion a year in revenue) to head up their $50 million legal staffing division. Now, I was pretty happy doing what I was doing. I love being an entrepreneur in the legal field.  I have a successful legal media and training organization. I’m my own boss; and I really wasn’t looking to change. In fact, I subscribe to the old adage that you work 80 hours a week just so you don’t have to work 40 hours a week for someone else. But the headhunter who found me, talked a good game. I’ve been in the business, know when to ignore standard pitches, but still I was intrigued.

                The position involved heading up a national legal staffing division, expanding the client base, adding revenue and bearing the title of vice president. It sounded like a job that not only could I do, but also I had previous experience doing and enjoyed. It also involved a possible very comfortable housing situation, albeit in the cold abysses of the Hinterlands (i.e. Troy, Michigan). I would have to uproot my home life and sell my business to this company. Well, shoot.  I’ve been down that road before. But the challenge seemed tempting, and frankly, when I started to weigh the upside, the idea of adding Vice President of Major Corporation to my bio along with the “financial security,” and exciting, challenging scenario seemed like a logical step in my otherwise ho-hum 5 year goal plan. I tell myself that the dollars aren’t anything to sneeze at either seeing as how rumors of my wealth have been greatly exaggerated.

                Although my first instinct was to pass, I ignored my brief commune into my common sense and told the headhunter, “Sure. Here are my parameters. If they can meet those, I’ll talk.” So I sounded a little cocky. But at this stage in my career, I felt pretty confident that I could pick and choose.  By golly, I wanted to do what I had been writing and counseling about for years: choose wisely, and above all, make the change worth your while.

                I was willing to overlook that I would have to move to a location where there was real snow in the winter. I’m from Los Angeles – I have no clue that the stuff actually comes down from the sky. I was also willing to overlook that a year ago, there was a huge splash in the Wall Street Journal when the person who had this job walked out mumbling something about “irreconcilable differences with top management.” I was further willing to overlook that I had a fast-track thriving business that was definitely going places. Along with a stellar team, I had sweated, toiled and molded this company into the kind of experience I had always wanted. But gee, now that I think about it, I was actually getting excited about this opportunity.

                Could I adjust from being a somewhat “big fish in a (very) small pond” to being a “little fish in a (very) big pond?” (I guess I squandered too many Saturday nights watching the “Cliché Lady” on Saturday Night Live instead of working on my social life.) Could I leave my exquisite view of the mountains and ocean in Los Angeles for the eerie chill of Eerie Lake? And what about my then boyfriend who obsessed every day about his rapidly decreasing hairline, his hives, and his love handles? Would he go with me? He was having a rough enough time adjusting to sunny suburban California after a lifetime of the hustle and bustle of New York City where he was a rock and roll journalist. He complained vociferously about crickets keeping him up at night. What would he say about behemoth Midwest mosquitoes and those elephantine June bugs? (And why was that little voice echoing inside my head asking, did I want him to go with me?)

               I interviewed via video conference with the headhunter who had somehow convinced me to even consider this job. Him in New York, me in L.A. Both of us plunging headlong into the latest technology – each of us acting as though this were just another day. Then I met with a VP who flies out here to see if my personality fits. Well, I don’t know about my personality, but I sure did like his. (I was still very single at the time.) Then, I’m flown across the country, put in a limo with a real-live-limo-driver-complete-with-oversize-cap-and-black suit, meet seven top execs one right after the other and hustled back on the plane. Somehow I manage to pass that round. A month goes by. I get a phone call.  I have been summoned by the exec VP, the CFO and the president of this $5+ billion Fortune 500 company. This time, they’re waving lots of stock options, a new car, and a relocation allowance.  Gulp. Gee, I think they’re getting serious.

                I immediately consult everything that’s ever been written about how to handle a third and fourth interview: what to wear, what to eat, how to breathe. I have long involved discussions with my partner, advisors, mentors, and oh, yes, my shrink. I worry once again about being overweight but notice that people in the Midwest seem a little chunkier than Californians, so I stop at the local Dairy Queen. I’m all set.

                Then, I get THE CALL and not on my cell phone, either. The offer is coming down. YES!! I order up the snowmobile. I hop on Realtor.com and find out that for the price of a garage in L.A. I can have a mansion on a lake with my own personal boat dock. Not a bad deal – even if I don’t know how to sail. One slight inconvenience: Two top execs are on their way out here to look over my business and make the offer on that. Oh, okay. I can’t be bothered right now. I’m busy looking into designer muckaluks.

                So, these major players fly all the way out to L.A. to visit us in our humble abode (office) on a Sunday afternoon. These two (dare I, at the risk of sounding like a sour-grapes-politically-incorrect female, these two charter members of –I hate to say, “the good old boys network”) pay a polite visit. As Arlo Guthrie observed of his army physical in the whimsically autobiographical “Alice’s Restaurant”, “they were inspecting, dissecting, every single part of me, and they wasn’t leaving NO part untouched.”

                I have my whole office staff dressed up in their go-to-meetin’ Sunday best. Desks are clean, lean and mean. You can smell the lemon Pledge all the way down the hall. However, this powerful duo felt they could have more leverage by interviewing me alone, all alone, that is – in a closed room with no windows, let alone air conditioning. Suddenly, I experience the terror some of my candidates felt when they were sent to get the “once over” by potential employers. But I tell myself, I’m ready. I’ve role-played. I’ve studied my answers. I am sure, confident, and meaningful. I have prepared a vision for them, and know how to play this game.  I had written books on it.

                Things were going well until the duo decides to play “good cop/bad cop.” Badly, I might add. I thought the little guy playing bad cop was a bit too gleeful. I really thought he was going to stand on the table and belt out, “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better from Annie Get Your Gun.” But instead, the inevitable happens. They give the what-do-you-do-when-this-happens test.  Apparently, I flunk.

   “At BigCorp,” the little guy said, “we would have FIRED the person in charge for that! Not tomorrow-today!” Yeah, well, I saw it differently. I saw a learning curve, not a career buster. “What kind of leader are you?” Littleguy yells, swatting the table.

                My heart suddenly pounds with terror.  Oh, what the heck.  I start to gag.  I can handle anything but yelling and swatting tables. I slink back in my chair, stunned. Was this a proper way to treat a potential Vice President of a major division of their billion dollar plus company? Furthermore, was this the way I wanted to be treated?

                At this precise moment, I feel a slight dampness. Oh, Lordy! Sweaty palms. I decide to ignore my own discomfort and rise to the bait. “Littleguy,” I say, “Just what are you so angry about?” “I AM NOT ANGRY,” he spits. (Angry little guys tend to spit a lot.} I wipe the spit from my eye and mumble I have to get a Swine flu shot. Zoom.  Right over his head.

                After regaining my composure and understanding clearly that Littleguy is someone I would have to work with on a daily basis, I decide to withdraw my candidacy. In fact, I write the letter and e-mail it to the headhunter, the president of the company and the VP with the oh-so-fabulous-personality so fast, these two corporate wannabees are still walking down to the elevator.  Would they have wanted me? I’ll never know. Is this the way they treat their employees? Frankly, I don’t want to know. What I do know is where I draw the line. I always want to be treated with dignity and respect. On that, I will not compromise.

                I have re-evaluated my life several times since then and have reminded myself that I have created my ideal situation. I love my partners, my colleagues, my clients, and my life. For me, this was a close call and an excellent reminder that I want to develop what I have. The “good guy” was kind enough to send a letter of apology. But I learned an excellent lesson. The grass is not always greener on the other side. (Thank you Cliché Lady.)

                So now, it’s back to the proverbial drawing board. I cancel the snowmobile. I put my bio back on the shelf. I forget about the affordable mansion with the personal boat dock on the lake. I take the air out of my floaties. And life is good.   As for the boyfriend, I sent him back to New York to find his hairline, slim his love handles and put salve on his hives. In the end, it always works out.

You Call This Networking?? Marketing Yourself Can Be Tough!

Networking.  No matter how you twitter, tweet, link, face or space, you have to do it these days if you want to avoid career suicide.  With all this online socializing, however, your knack for meeting strangers one-on-one (probably the best networking tool of all) gets rusty and pushed into the background of your skills.

There's no such thing as accidental networking. Networking is a mission. When you're headed to a function to meet and greet people who can further your career, you have a strong sense of Purpose. Even a chance meeting can provide a networking opportunity.

Once you discover that new acquaintances have professional power, you instantaneously decide to make the meeting worthwhile. There's no real secret to it. Most people, myself included, hate to admit we network because then we reveal we're actually using the world's greatest career-building trick. Maybe we think it smacks of cheating. You know you do it; I know you do it; others know you do it; and you read that you're supposed to do it, but somehow you deny you're doing it. I mean, only the etiquette-challenged would introduce themselves by saying, "Hi, I'm Jane. I'm here to network." Yikes.

Now, basically I'm shy. Oh, I know I give lots of seminars and speak in front of hundreds of people, but those one-on-ones are a killer. Chit-chat with strangers makes me nervous. I never know quite what to say. I solve the problem by avoiding it as much as I can. But following this prescription can lead to a very lonely life, not to mention a dearth of contacts. So, when I was invited to a book-signing party at a very exclusive old-money private club (which to join, costs your entire savings account, requires a vote from the secret selection committee and a Daughters-of-the-American Revolution background), I didn't know if I should go. I tried to rationalize. I'm CEO of a continuing education company and Editor-in-Chief of three magazines. Members of this selective club could become important clients. And, someone obviously thought I was worthy enough to grace the hallowed halls of haughtiness. The downside? I didn't know anyone there so I had no one to hide behind.

Then there was another possible problem. For the past 50 years or so, the club was rumored to be anti-Semitic (not to mention what their attitude was toward other non-majority types). My grandmother would turn over in her grave if she even thought I was considering putting one tiny toe in this establishment. And now I wanted to go in hopes of furthering my career? Was I nuts? When I ran this past colleagues, they scoffed at me. "That 'problem' doesn't exist anymore. This is the 21st century," they said.

Yeah, but in my mind how long ago was long ago? And did any of the people who had had that 'problem' long ago belong to the club today? But the critical need to network and the idea of spending one more evening by myself watching reruns of "Law and Order" overruled my sensibilities. I made up my mind, boned up on my small talk, and headed to the chi-chi club with the iron barriers to entry.

I get all dressed up in my casual-but-elegant business suit, careful to make it black so people won't notice the slight weight problem. (OK, OK, slightly more than slight.) I'm tooling down the road practicing my elevator speech: "I provide timely education and communications for the legal field." "Oh, I see, a lawyer.  How interesting!"

And then one of those uncontrollable things that happens at precisely the wrong time happens. I start to perspire. I can't stop. Either I'm very nervous or this is the longest hot flash in history. Maybe my grandmother has gotten wind of what I'm doing. "Oh, God," I plead. "Not now." I turn on the air conditioner. I have one hand on the steering wheel as I fan cold air waves onto my face, which at this point, is dripping makeup and forming little brown dots on my clean white collar. I'm panicked but determined to make a go of this. I reach the club, take a deep breath, put a smile on my face, nod to the doorman and march right through the double mahogany doors, onto the marble inlaid floors and past the authentic Biedermeyer furniture. I'm on a mission.

Confidence notwithstanding, the first few minutes after making your entrance can be disconcerting. Do I head for the bar? Do I find the hostess-with-the-mostest whom I've never met? Do I mosey on up to a group that is obviously engaged in appropriate chit-chat and chit-chat myself? A waiter with an elegant silver tray doesn't even ask, he just hands me a glass of wine. Good. Now I look the part. As I take a look around, I realize the room is loaded with potential clients but even my quick read on "How to Work a Room" hadn't prepared me for this crowd. The room is dripping with Armani and Versace. Poor Anne Klein. So nineties. Her pantsuit seems out of sorts and I happen to be wearing her. Not quite brave enough to go say howdy, I go up to the table stacked high with the author's new books. I tell myself I'm doing the right first move. After all, this is a book signing party.

Seeing a gentleman seated behind the table,  I assume he is the author eagerly waiting to autograph purchases. I decide to help him out. "So Michael," I say confidently, "who was your favorite character?" The woman next to me sniffs and sighs. "This is Andre, dear, the cashier. The au-thor is o-ver there with the hos-tess." (That's how she talked, really.) Oh. Well, one faux pas isn't going to kill me. I stroll over to the hostess and introduce myself. "Oh, yes," she says graciously and turns to the group. "What with the NBA playoffs tonight, I really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to get people to come." The group laughs. I stand there with my glass of merlot frozen in my hand. I decide the comment wasn't aimed at me and she's probably just as nervious as I am. I ignore it and prepare to chit-chat.

The conversation was revolving around Mr. Harriweather's trip to Tuscany. I'm comfortable now. I've been to Europe. The conversation turns toward Paris. We're home now, baby! This stuff I know. I decide to chime in, "Paris," I sigh and sip my wine slowly. (I had learned three things in the 5 minutes I had been there: sniffing, sighing, and sipping slowly seemed to be important.) "When I took this American Express tour a few years ago...What was that?? A loud tsk tsk to my right. The dyed-blond with the recent Botox injections and fake pearl earrings is rolling her recently reconstructed eyes and shaking her head. Uh, oh. Obviously, no American Express trips here.

I quickly change directions. "Oh, I agree," I say. "The best thing about that whole disaster was pulling into Paris at dusk and seeing the gorgeous lights on the Eiffel Tower." Whew. That should score a few points. But the group is looking a me funny. I realize I had started to sweat again and now my mascara has slipped off my eyelashes and settled into dark circles under my eyes. A couple of people actually take a step backwards. I really want to leave. But my guaranteed-to-fit-make-you-look-ten-pounds-thinner-panty-girdle was slowly rolling down my stomach. Obviously, a quick getaway wasn't about to happen.

The hostess-with-less-than-the-mostest chimes in. "You know, a nice Jewish girl like me has to be sooo careful when I travel to Europe," she trails off. I wonder what that's all about. Why would she even bring up being Jewish? What point was she trying to make? Did she feel uncomfortable being here? "Oh, speaking of that," says the ever-ebullient Mr. Harriweather with the affected English accent, "whenever I travel in Europe, I always claim I'm Canadian instead of American. You know, they don't hate Canadians there." Well, that much is true. There aren't enough of them. This was one of those situations where they built a whole country and no one came. But I remain quiet and sip my wine (slowly).

But Mr. Harriweather isn't finished. I wonder whether he knows that tweed jackets with leather patches on the elbows are not exactly GQ anymore. "And my friend who travels with me claims he's Canadian too. And, guess what? Everyone buys it, and he's Jewish!" I spit my wine out all over what's left of the white on my blouse. He thinks his story is very funny. Now, I'm already having trouble reconciling the fact that I'm in this silly club to begin with, plus the fact that I'm preoccupied with how to shrink from the crowd because I can't seem to control this perspiration, coupled with the fact that the makeup that is supposed to be on my eyes is now smeared from ear-to-ear. I can't control my reaction. "What?" I blurt out. "Do you really think no one is Jewish in Canada??" The room goes silent. I get the distinct feeling I have just stepped outside the guidelines of the handbook to good taste networking. In any event, no matter what my personal feelings are, I've definitely gone beyond a faux pas.

 At that moment a little bell tinkles. "Ah," says the hostess-with-the-mostest, "It's time for our author to begin his talk." Saved, I guess. I sit down. I notice that no one sits next to me. In fact, I''m the only one in the entire row. Well, I say to myself, maybe I'm getting a little raunchy here what with all this sweating. I'm horribly self-conscious. The author talks. I listen. When the author concludes, the hostess/no mostest announces it's time for dinner. I get up. I do the only thing left available to me. I pretend I'm leaving briefly for the bathroom and without even thinking, I head right past the authentic Bidermeyer furniture, onto the inlaid marble floors, and right out the double mahogany doors. I realize that there may be some future explaining to do. But one thing I am certain: At no time will I ever again compromise my value system in order to further my career.

Hopefully, no one has noticed I've left long before I'm supposed to. On the other hand, they're probably relieved after what went on and all. Unfortunately, the valet has lost my car. I wait what seems an eternity. Finally, he locates it and brings it up. As I'm about to make my getaway, I hear "Yooo-hooo!....Oh, Ms. Esssss-trin!" Rats. Caught. It's Mrs. Macintosh, the head of the library committee, coming toward me waving one of those dang books. "You aren't leaving are you, dear?" Oh, Lordy, girl, get a grip. Of course I am. "Why, no," I say. "I'm just looking for something." Yeah. My front door. "Well, you've left your autographed copy of your book," she says in her sing-song voice. Great. A memento of the evening.

As I drive home, I realize that I made the right decision choosing to leave. As much as I wanted to meet new people and hit the networking circuit, this particular scene just wasn't for me. I found myself desperately trying not to be who I really was so I could fit in. What was I thinking? I didn't need to do that. Would I try networking again? Sure, but for now, I knew that networking doesn't work unless you feel comfortable, self-assured, and choose scenarios wisely. On that, I needed a little work. I decide that next time, I'll feel more confident and know what I'm getting into. As I drive up to my front door, I begin to feel safe again. I take off my wine and Cover Girl spotted outfit, wash off what's left of my makeup, and flop down in my comfortable Lazy Boy. I count my blessings as I switch on the TV. Wouldn't you know? I'm just in time for another rerun of "Law and Order."

The Organization of Legal Professionals - A Group Worth Joining

The Organization of Legal Professionals, a new non-profit, has just been formed in order to provide certification to legal professionals. 

Why certification?  One is only to read recent comments from judges, attorneys and clients to realize that new technology has more than stymied the legal field.  Technology and e-discovery is moving faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than Superman and certainly more confusing than the old Rubic's cube.

Three years ago, I posted to the Litigation Support listserv why certification is important, particularly for non-attorneys working in the litigation support arena.  As a result, the Association for Litigation Support Professionals was formed for the purpose of certifying litigation support staff.

The Organization of Legal Professionals was recently formed with a very impressive Board of Governors and Board of Directors.  Powerful and knowledgeable people, actually, concerned with the lack of skills and standarization in e-discovery and other legal arenas.  The first certification exam is currently being developed after research and understanding where the need is most. 

I recently reviewed the original post I wrote and felt that it still holds true today.  Here is what I said revised to fit the need for e-discovery, trial specialists, trial presentation technicians and other legal careers:

As an educator in the legal field, I see problems in e-discovery staffing as very similar to those in the paralegal field. Thirty-five years ago, there were few paralegal schools to teach paralegals how to approach their jobs, how to complete assignments or even what assignments they could perform. Primarily, anyone who wanted to call themselves a paralegal and could do so without any training whatsoever. Paralegals were trained on the job by other paralegals, legal secretaries and overworked attorneys who could barely complete their own assignments.

Today, many states have mandatory legal education (such as California Business & Profession Code 6450) that requires paralegals to have standard educational requirements just to enter the field and mandatory continuing legal education that must be fulfilled on a regular basis just to keep that position. What I have witnessed as a national educator is an overall upgrade of quality and sophistication of work; a higher educated person entering and staying in the field; and law firms (who in the past could care less) now support furthering education as critical to getting higher quality work and retaining quality people.

Positions such as e-discovery manager, case manager, reviewer, complex case manager, and others are not much different from the paralegal field. Right now, anyone who wants to can call themselves an e-discovery "expert" — whether they are in a law firm or as a vendor. Standard educational requirements to hold the position do not exist and there are no educational requirements to enter the field other than what each individual firm or vendor sets forth for their own organization.

Most litigation support staff learn on the job. Many are victims of descending quality of on-the- job training. That is to say, the person training them received inadequate training; the person training that person did not receive adequate training, and so on and so on and so on. Most law firms and vendors do not have substantive or substantial training programs geared toward individuals dealing in e-discovery.  You cannot go to school to earn a certificate in e-discovery and other than some current law schools, there is no formal training other than seminars. The one "certification" out there is given by a well-known vendor who is known to be good as a vendor but definitely uses the certification as a marketing tool.

While there's plenty of continuing ed and in-house seminars for associates, firms hesitate in spending very much money on any revenue or non-revenue producing employee who is not slated for partnership. Firms and vendors alike take a staff member from another position i.e., litigation paralegal; computer technician or manager from outside the field, etc. to transition into the e-discovery or trial presentation arena and call them an expert.  The "expert" status is given only after plenty of trial and error. There is no test, no certification, no standards to enter or stay in this relatively new profession.

The argument that certification is not appropriate or warranted because each job for each law firm or vendor is different is, frankly, baloney.  Few attorney positions are the same.  For that matter, few professional positions anywhere are the same.  However, the need to understand basic policies, procedures and laws are critical.  One has to just point to an e-discovery professional or trial presentation technician originating from another field without the benefit of learning simple basic fundamentals such as legal ethics, the discovery process itself or for that matter, the court system.

Maybe it's the legal administrators who know the secret to certification.  They are in charge of budgets and they will tell you that insurance companies issuing malpractice insurance drop their rates when presented with certified professionals such as calendaring and docketing employees.  Malpractice insurance is one of the highest costs for a law firm.

It will only be when professionals band together through their associations such as paralegals have done that standards will be set. Mandatory training to enter the field and maintain the position will become a requirement that not only vendors but law firm staff as well will want. It is only by grasping a fuller understanding of all the elements required for the position will expectations be better met. Where now can you go to earn a certificate to become a certified an e-Discovery Case Manager? Schools are only just now looking at offering technical classes beyond Word, Excel and Access. This is a relatively new development and slow-moving reaction to high-speed growth of an explosively booming field.

That's not to say that the enormous challenges that have been met by legal technology stars and hard-working, dedicated and persistent individuals in this field are underestimated nor dismissed. It's simply time to take a look at the future and who will be entitled to call themselves an "expert" and why.

For more information regarding The OLP and to join, please go to:  www.theolp.org.

Innovative Internal Marketing Ideas Help Gain New Clients

I ran across two terrific marketing ideas this week when I was interviewing women lawyers for an article I'm doing for SUE Magazine.

First of all, let me start out by saying that I really blasted away a book in one of our book reviews.  Frankly, we've been just too nice in the past.  (It's that old adage - never burn any bridges).  But I just couldn't take one more book, article, post or speech about the same old same old:  take another attorney to lunch; know your client; attend a seminar, or my very favorite:  work with your marketing department. Uh, well, yeah!  So I gave it a "Don't bother" rating.

I wanted something new.

The Marketing God must have heard me.  She must have been looking down on me that day. Interviewing several firms for an article, I learned about one firm who is launching a new internal website for women lawyers called Zealous Women.  (A clever title as the name of the firm is Zelle Hoffman.)  The website is a great tool to promote visibility for women in the firm - in other words, internal marketing.

Internal marketing within your firm is just as important as marketing yourself to clients.  The more your firm's attorneys know you, the more they assign you better clients, more sophisticated work and primo cases.  Internal marketing can make or break your career.

The Zealous Women website talks about the firm's women lawyers' successes, wins, struggles, new clients and more.  It's an effective way for women in the firm to get known, to reach out to others in the firm and to network, a sometimes difficult task for new associates.  They plan on expanding the website to include women clients, judges and other law related women such as the president of a children's organization who is a former lawyer.

The other excellent tool that a firm told me about was an electronic publication for women in and out of the firm.  The electronic publication (a magazine that flips pages and looks just like a magazine but is on computer) extols the successes of women in the firm.  It also has articles about leadership, marketing, developing a client base, time management and more.  It serves as an excellent marketing tool for clients as well.

As my dad used to tell me, "You just have to use your noggin."  If you are doing the same things that other firms are doing, you will run with the pack.  There will be nothing to distinguish you from the others. What makes a leader is someone who runs ahead of the pack and enjoys the journey.

If you've heard about other creative and innovative marketing ideas, let me know!  In these harsh economic realities, it's all in the packaging......believe me.

How to Protect Your Reputation on Google

A client is upset with you.  So she takes to the Internet and blasts away.  Not only does this hurt your business, not to mention what it does to your feelings, but you feel powerless as this disgruntled wacko starts posting to as many Internet possibilites as she can. 

What do you do?  According to Jerry Work who writes the blog, "Law Firm Internet Marketing", you need to bury the bad stuff.  In his blog post on TalentZoo.com, Work gives some sage advice:
   "If there is negative information about your company online that appears high in search engine rankings for searches of your company...well, that's bad news.  We're not talking about some touchy, feely image/branding problem; we're talking about a full-blown lost customers, lost revenue kind of problem.  If a search of your company's name brings up negative information, you need to take action NOW."  

The first thing you do is to counteract the negativity with positive information about you or your firm.  Next, you need to get rid of the negativity.  How do you do that?  By beating the heck out of it.  

You've got to push those negative search engine results down to the second page of search results or lower.  If you get them to the third page, they will be practicially invisible, except to the diehards.  Just getting them to the second page, according to Work, makes a huge difference in the number of people who will see and click on search results negative to your firm.

Apparently, you have to create lots of web pages optimized for the keywords that are showing the negative information, and then do the things necessary to get those pages to rank higher than the negative pages.  Sound tricky?  It is.  How many pages you need depends on how many keywords you're trying to clean up and how highly ranked the negative content is.  Good news, though!  For most companies, there are far fewer competing web sites for searches of their company name than for more generic searches. 

Work has come up with a formula as to what you need in terms of how many web pages you need to depress a negative search listing.  While every situation is different, he has a couple of different formulas that can be used to derive a pretty good estimate of number of pages you need.

So what are new clients and maintaining old ones worth to you, particularly in a ravaging recession?  Yep.  Better get to this project now.