I don’t like doing
housework. I have tried hiring
housekeepers, but only found that I had to clean the house the day before the
housekeeper came so that she wouldn’t hurt herself tripping over stuff on the
floor. I don’t think my homeowner’s
insurance would cover injuries sustained by a housekeeper. And I wouldn’t want someone to get hurt
because I left a shoe in the hallway.
Without a housekeeper’s impending visit to inspire me to clean up, I have
found that things aren’t always as clean as they should be.
My children shared my dislike for
housework. To get them to help me clean
the kitchen, I had to threaten them with health department inspections. “We’ll end up on the streets,” I’d say in a
menacing tone. “If you leave dirty
dishes out, the health department will come and shut us down.” While the threat motivated them to help with
chores, it has had an unexpected negative impact on my children. They are not afraid of policemen, dentists,
or nurses with needles, but they turn pale and jittery when a public health
sanitarian walks in the room.
These days when I need something
to prompt me to clean up, I just watch a Hoarders show. I’m nowhere near as messy as the “stars” of Hoarders,
but I know that if I don’t clean up soon, the TV cameras and psychologists may
show up. I’ve even taped some of the
episodes in case the show gets cancelled.
Like the people on Hoarders, I hate to throw anything out. I’m always afraid I’ll need it as soon as it’s
gone.
A few months ago, I had a client
who, like me, hates to throw anything out.
Her desire to hang onto things saved her license to practice as a health
care provider.
My client’s licensing board sent
her a letter threatening to take her license because of an event that had
occurred almost 15 years ago. Courts in
other states have ruled that there is no time limit on claims filed by
licensing boards. I was concerned that any
records that could exonerate my client may have been lost or shredded. Just as my anxiety level began to soar, my
client told me not to worry. She
believed she had copies of all the documentation related to the issue.
Shortly thereafter, she sent
copies of every record that had anything to do with the event. Those records proved that she had done
nothing wrong. I got the information to
the licensing board and the Board dropped its case against my client.
Some licensure disputes can cost
thousands of dollars to litigate. By
hanging onto her records all those years, my client was able to resolve her
problems with the Board for a couple hundred dollars.
Laws require all of us to keep certain
records for specific periods of time. The
IRS advises taxpayers to keep records for seven years. But, taxpayers should note that the IRS can
prosecute suspected fraud at any time. Lawyers must keep client files for six
years after the client’s case is closed.
Dentists have to keep records for ten years. Physicians may not ever destroy immunization
records. Hospitals must store medical
records of an adult patient for eleven years after the patient is
discharged.
Professionals and businesses
often keep records longer than required by state law. They want to be sure they have necessary
records in the event of a malpractice case or other lawsuit. In North Carolina, most claims that can be
brought by adults have to be filed within ten years. It is wise to keep records concerning
children at least until the child is twenty-one.
Because licensing boards can
prosecute cases at any time, professionals should carefully consider how long
to hold onto records. Since we can store
records electronically, we no longer need warehouses for paper records. Yet, the dangers of electronically storing
confidential information are significant.
In an environment where computer hackers can invade the Defense Department,
White House and Federal Reserve, we have to admit that our efforts to protect
information are unlikely to withstand an attack from a skilled thief.
I started my law practice in
1981. Until recently, I had never
destroyed a client file. Then, after
considering the dangers of a confidentiality breach, I got rid of records that
were more than ten years old. Sure
enough, it wasn’t long before a client I had represented in the early 80’s
called. She needed a copy of a traffic
record in order to clear up a passport problem.
The DMV no longer had the record.
And, sadly, neither did I. I’m
not sure whether she was ever able to resolve the passport issue, but the
experience taught me something important.
You see, I was right. The minute
you get rid of something, you find that you need it.
