I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later, but the reality of it was nevertheless startling. The offer arrived the other day in an envelope bearing the logo of a credit card company. I erroneously assumed that it was another chance to buy a 999-piece set of dinnerware or sign-up for a lifetime of how-to-repair-it books from Time-Warner, all for the low, low price of $2,989.76, spread out over 84 months, but, no, this mailing was touting a credit card bearing the legend: "Legal Services Membership Card."

You could tell at a glance that it was a reputable offer since the card bore an insignia of a judge's gavel, plus the card had my name imprinted, although the hand holding the card on the brochure was obviously not mine since the fingers were feminine and the nails were covered with red polish.

Its legitimacy, however, was also beyond question because at the bottom of the first page was a picture of my wristwatch, which the company assured me could be mine just for the asking. The brochure informed me that "Now's the time to have an attorney at your fingertips,' and if I did so, I would give my entire family peace of mind...for just pennies a day. I would know it was daytime thanks to my new watch.

Imagine, having my own lawyer for only pennies a day! The information on the inside told me how inexpensive this splendid hire-your-own-lawyer service would be: 27 cents per day. Turning quickly to my calculator, I figured this outstanding legal service would cost me no more than 3.3 cents an hour, day in and day out, for an eight-hour day. The monthly fee made the offer even better: only $7.95 once a month and the bill would automatically be included on my credit card billing. Paying by the month would be even cheaper, since if the month had 31 days, I would be saving 42 cents monthly over the 27-cent daily rate.

I wondered if the lawyers sponsoring the service had retained a CPA to compute the charges, and if so, I wondered if the accountant was also on the same pay scale. Judging how much he cost his clients in the first place, I'd say the CPA was probably worth no more than 2.3 cents an hour. Maybe less.

I eagerly read through the nine services I was guaranteed for my hourly 3.3 cents. First of all, I was entitled to phone my new lawyer, wherever he might be. It always helps when you're able to hear a human voice these days, but then I wondered whether the lawyer at the other end would be live or electronic. So I dialed the number provided, and sure enough, there was the familiar recorded drone, informing me that I had made contact with the newest American jurisprudence concept since billable hours. I was given a menu of features that were at my beck and call, but none seemed to apply to me and so I pressed the key reserved for the lawyer's secretary, who it happens also has her own recorded message.

Turning to the rest of the menu being offered by the legal plan, I couldn't find anything that might remotely relate to my needs. I don't need "document review" nor "product warranties enforced" nor even "emergency bail service around-the-clock" but then my interest was piqued by something called "face-to-face consultations," which I gather is something like entering a lawyer's office anywhere. The selling pitch for this was "no charge for initial consultations." Which makes sense, since whoever heard of a lawyer charging a client for coming into his office to employ him?

Pushing forward in pursuit of this splendid mail offer, I began reading the small print, which as Mark Twain observed is the language that takes away anything that is in large print. As might be expected, the mail-order client can receive the kind of advice that your auto mechanic stops to offer you as he's charging you $95 an hour, but the small print revealed that 99 percent of the legal services offered by lawyers are excluded from the low, low $7.95 monthly rate. These include such items as real estate closings, divorces, adoptions, name changes, wills and trusts, and property and contract lawsuits.

These excluded items will cost a minimum of $59 an hour, it turns out, although potential clients must first have 20-20 vision before being advised of this fact. This is much less than your plumber charges, but then he's skilled labor and will talk as long as you want while the clock runs.

Making one last attempt to learn more about the legal services offered, I called a second number listed in the brochure. Its recorded voice told me the free watch I will receive when I sign on has a "semi-precious diamond quartz dial." I have a feeling clients who sign on will first engage their new attorney to investigate the warranty on that watch.

~Jack Stapleton of Kennett is the editor of the Missouri News and Editorial Service.