On First Impressions and Second Chances

This article was originally published in the Winter 2026 issue of The Federal Lawyer.

By Zach Ludens

I am going to start this At Sidebar with a shameless plug—not for my firm or my practice; but, of how the innocent wisdom of my three-year-old brought me to the subject of this missive. One time when he dropped something and was afraid that he would be met with frustration (like he was feeling), I gave him a hug and told him “That’s okay; accidents happen.” When the words came out of my mouth, I never could have imagined the immense impact that the words would not only have on him, but the grace that I would find every time that I made a mistake with him and he greeted me with the same words—that’s okay; accidents happen.

I find this apropos because how many of us had not had a bad first impression—made or received—with opposing counsel? Whether it is that we are having a bad day or opposing counsel catches a phone call or an email at the most inopportune times—as I recently heard one United States Magistrate Judge reflect, “I have come to find that, in dealing with humans, mistakes are invariably going to happen from time to time despite their best efforts.”

While all of us do our best to always put our best foot forward, the fact of the matter is that perfection is probably not attainable for any of us. So, the best that we can do is the best that we can do. Put another way, as one of my colleagues will comment from time to time, “I am just a person.”

I promise that there is a point here if you will allow me a little leeway. Regardless of your political ideology and which side of the fence that you fall on, I think that it is fair to say that the past few years have found the legal profession—and the judiciary—in the crosshairs. But, that does not mean that we have to put each other in the crosshairs. While, invariably, it would benefit a client (perhaps temporarily) for us to try to maximize on a genuine mistake by the other side—the system is designed to give grace to all of us and allow for mistakes that are not fatal. Admittedly, this is where the question of zealous client advocacy may intersect with certain other duties. Or, again, we can recognize that we are all human, none of us are perfect, and we can extend each other a bit more grace for the collective health of our profession.

During law school, I had the tremendous fortune of getting to take two semesters of a federal motions practice class with now-United States Circuit Judge Robin S. Rosenbaum of the United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit. I tell this story not to highlight my own mistake—though, I certainly made one—but, instead, to reflect on how she handled it.

You see, Judge Rosenbaum made the deadline to submit our final assignment a specific time of the deadline day—presumably because she is a normal human being that wants to be asleep by midnight. But, in my haste, I missed the time component of the deadline in her syllabus—until after the deadline. As I was finalizing my final written assignment for her, I decided to double-check the syllabus and, to my horror, I found the time deadline that Judge Rosenbaum had set for the assignment’s submission. Immediately, I realized that I had realized the deadline too late.

So, I told her the truth. I submitted the assignment, and I said, “It appears that my worst fear has happened—missing a deadline. At least it happened now before it affects a real client, and I can take a piece of slight solace in that. If this had been a dispositive motion deadline that hurt my client, I would also instantly file a motion for relief under Federal Rule 60(b), but alas, it is not.” A few hours later, I was greeted with “I’ll give you a pass. Just don’t miss one in real life.”

Then, a few months later, I appeared at a symposium where Justice John Paul Stevens was the keynote speaker, and Judge Rosenbaum just happened to be moderator. I rose to ask a question, and Judge Rosenbaum greeted me by name—a recent law school graduate—and, I cannot even remember if I had passed the Bar by that point. Everyone in the auditorium, including Justice Stevens, took notice of the fact that Judge Rosenbaum knew this audience member by name. Meanwhile, my last interaction with Judge Rosenbaum had been one where I had to admit my mistake and beg her forgiveness. But, no one other than Judge Rosenbaum and I knew that.

Even a decade later, I vividly remember the horror that I felt when I realized that I had missed the deadline. I even more vividly remember how I felt when Judge Rosenbaum gave me a pass. And, I will never forget how I felt when Justice Stevens—one of my legal icons—saw me greeted by name by a sitting member of a federal appellate court.

My life is better off for the second chances that I have been given—and I have probably been given more than I deserve. But, the system is also better off because we have learned jurists that do the same thing. And, every time that I pick up the phone and alert opposing counsel of a mistake that they have made or I field their call asking for my position on the motion for relief, I remember that my life would not be the same without the second chances that I have been afforded, and I try to pay it forward.

Or, in the case of my preschooler, every time that he says “That’s okay; accidents happen,” I smile a little wider. Because he may have realized something that it took me many years to realize—that perfection is impossible and that mistakes are inevitable.

So, as our profession and the judiciary are facing crosshairs that may be new (or renewed), I think that one of the best things that we can do as lawyers is recognize that mistakes happen, give second chances, and pay it forward. After all: That’s okay; accidents happen.