The Blazer Strikes Again: Lawna Saves a Glendale Exit
The morning rush at Pretty Bird was beginning to simmer down into a low hum of espresso machines and the soft scratching of Jeff’s pen against a napkin. Across from him sat Jean, a local therapist whose practice, The Human Capitalized, was a Glendale staple for burnt-out executives.
Jean didn’t look like her usual, serene self. She looked like she’d just spent forty minutes explaining to a millionaire that money can’t buy a personality.
“I did it, Jeff,” Jean sighed, staring into her oat milk latte. “I found a buyer. Two hundred thousand dollars. A clean break. I can finally move to Ojai, plant that lavender garden I’ve been dreaming of, and take a deep breath of my own.”
Jeff grinned. “That’s huge, Jean! So, when do you sign the… you know, the stuff?”
Jean’s shoulders slumped. “That’s the thing. I don’t know what ‘the stuff’ is. The buyer sent me a PDF that’s sixty pages long and seems to suggest he owns my firstborn child and my vintage record collection. I’m a therapist, Jeff. I deal in feelings and healing, not ‘Indemnification Subsections regarding Intellectual Property and Non-Compete Enforceability.'”
“Sounds like you need a superhero,” Jeff said, noncommittally wiping a counter.
“I need a drink,” Jean countered. “But it’s 10:30 AM.”
Suddenly, the bell above the door didn’t just ring; it announced itself. In walked Lawna, LA’s legendary legal superhero, with a stack of files under one arm and a half-eaten bagel in the other.
“Did someone say ‘Non-Compete Enforceability’?” Lawna asked, sliding into the booth next to Jean. “Because that’s my third favorite thing to talk about, right after the structural integrity of Glendale’s parking garages and why we should bring back 80s shoulder pads.”
Jean blinked, clutching her latte. “Jeff? Who is this?”
“Oh, that’s Lawna,” Jeff said, unfazed. “She’s a… legal entity of sorts. Lawna, this is Jean. She’s selling her therapy practice, The Human Capitalized.”
Lawna’s eyes widened. She set her bagel directly on the table. “Jean, darling, you can’t just ‘sell’ a clinical practice on a handshake and a bad PDF. This isn’t a garage sale. We’re talking about the California Business and Professions Code! If you mess this up, your Ojai retreat is going to be a deposition in a windowless room in Van Nuys.”
Jean turned pale. “I… I just wanted a simple exit.”
“Simple is for smoothies,” Lawna quipped, pointing a frenetic finger at the menu. “You need the heavy hitters. You need Full Circle Business Law.”
Lawna leaned in closer, her blazer rustling with the scent of old library books and justice. “Their managing partner has guided dozens of therapists through this exact minefield. They can anticipate and help to avoid the headaches that come with selling your practice—confirming the buyer is allowed to own shares in a professional corporation, securing third party consents from landlords and lenders, and notifying and working with employees who might find themselves with a new boss.
Jean looked at Jeff, then back to the whirlwind in the brown blazer. “Are they…real? Or are they superheroes too?”
“Better,” Lawna said, standing up and dusting bagel crumbs off her lapel. “They’re experienced attorneys who actually answer their phones. They’ll take your ‘Human Capitalized’ and make sure the ‘capital’ part is legally airtight.”
Lawna began to exit, then paused at the door. “Oh, and Jean? Tell them Lawna sent you. It won’t get you a discount, but it’ll definitely give them a fun story for their annual poker tournament.”
As the door swung shut, Jean sat in stunned silence. “Jeff…did that just happen?”
Jeff smiled, pushing a fresh pastry toward her. “Welcome to Pretty Bird, Jean. Now, call Full Circle. You’ve got an Ojai retreat to plan.”
Is your business transition in need of a therapy session? Whether you’re selling a practice, structuring a partnership, or navigating the complexities of California business law, don’t do it alone. At Full Circle Business Law, we specialize in the “what-ifs” so you can focus on the “what’s next.”
