When Depositions Had Coffee Breaks – A Court Reporter’s Call to Action

There was a time—not so long ago—when depositions were structured, civil, and humane. When the daily transcript page count rarely exceeded 150. When attorneys broke for lunch, took time to order food for the room, and treated the court reporter as a professional—not a machine. Reporters were respected, and the job, while demanding, wasn’t punishing.

Today, those memories feel like relics of a lost profession. Now, depositions routinely stretch to 250, 300, even 400 pages, with attorneys barreling through eight-hour days, skipping breaks, skipping meals, and acting as if the reporter isn’t even human—let alone essential.

What happened?

A Profession Pushed to the Edge

Court reporting was never an easy job. The mental focus required to take down every word accurately and the stamina to sit in high-stakes legal environments for hours on end has always been intense. But in earlier decades, the work was balanced by a level of professional courtesy and structure that helped sustain the people doing it.

The pace of proceedings was slower. The expectation wasn’t perfection in a 24-hour turnaround. There were breaks—real ones. Coffee and fruit in the morning. Danish pastries. A full hour for lunch. A wrap-up around 4:30 or 5:00 p.m., with attorneys openly discussing rescheduling if time ran out.

Today, that’s almost unheard of. Court reporters are routinely pushed past their limits with marathon depositions and overnight expedite requests that leave no time for rest or recovery. The physical toll—tension, back pain, carpal tunnel, eye strain—is compounded by the mental strain of being “on” for hours without a moment to breathe. And yet, somehow, we’re expected to deliver perfect transcripts without error, without complaint, and without compensation that matches the reality of the work.

The Erosion of Standards

There are many reasons for this cultural shift. The digitization of law practices and the increased demand for fast-paced litigation have played a major role. But the erosion of boundaries in deposition practice can also be traced to a deeper issue: The devaluation of the court reporter’s role.

As technology continues to inch into the courtroom, attorneys and agencies alike have fallen into the dangerous trap of seeing the reporter as just another commodity—a replaceable vendor who can churn out pages like a machine. And with that shift, professionalism has gone out the window.

Lunch? Optional. Breaks? If you’re lucky. An end time? Don’t ask.

And for many of us, this grind is no longer sustainable.

Is It Time to Draw a Line?

Every working reporter today should be asking themselves one question: What am I willing to tolerate?

The rise of unrealistic expectations didn’t happen overnight—and it didn’t happen because attorneys suddenly decided to be inconsiderate. It happened because no one said “no.” Slowly, inch by inch, the boundaries disappeared. Lunch breaks turned into working lunches. The day bled past 6:00 p.m. with no overtime compensation. Expedites went from rare to routine. And now, here we are.

But if we created the conditions for our exploitation by allowing this to happen—then we also have the power to stop it.

Some reporters are already drawing hard boundaries. Four-hour limits. Five-hour days. No more expedites without appropriate pay. No more last-minute bookings. These aren’t radical ideas—they’re acts of professional preservation.

Because no one else is going to protect us if we don’t do it ourselves.

Why It’s Not Just About Us

This isn’t just a matter of comfort or convenience. The quality of the legal record suffers when a reporter is exhausted, hungry, or physically in pain. The mental sharpness required to capture every word with precision fades with fatigue. A missed objection, a misattributed quote, a mumbled answer that goes unchecked—these aren’t just hypotheticals. They’re real risks that increase when we’re overworked and under-supported.

Attorneys should care about this. Judges should care about this. But most importantly, we should care enough to demand better.

Lessons from the Past

There was a time when reporters organized. When they stood up together and said, “No more.” In the 1980s, some groups even went on strike to demand fair pay and better working conditions. And back then, the working conditions weren’t even as bad as they are now.

So what are we waiting for?

We may not all be in a place to strike. But we can draw lines. We can educate the legal community. We can refuse to accept unrealistic turnaround times. We can demand humane workdays—and stick to them. We can say, “I’m unavailable past five,” and let the chips fall.

This isn’t about entitlement. It’s about dignity. And it’s about the survival of a profession that has given its practitioners decades of purpose, challenge, and pride.

Building a New Culture

It starts with small steps. Set a page limit or time cap that protects your physical health. Decide in advance what turnaround times you’ll accept. Put your rates in writing. Enforce late cancellation fees. Require that breaks be honored. And most of all—talk to other reporters about doing the same.

Solidarity isn’t just a slogan. It’s a strategy.

Because we can’t go back to the way things were. But we can move forward with a stronger sense of what we’re worth—and what we won’t accept anymore.

We have the skills. We have the experience. We’ve built this profession brick by brick. Now we need to reclaim it from the brink of burnout.

The fruit and coffee may be long gone—but we’re still here. And we still have the power to change the narrative.

Disclaimer

The content of this post is intended for informational and discussion purposes only. All opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are based on publicly available information, industry standards, and good-faith concerns about nonprofit governance and professional ethics. No part of this article is intended to defame, accuse, or misrepresent any individual or organization. Readers are encouraged to verify facts independently and to engage constructively in dialogue about leadership, transparency, and accountability in the court reporting profession.

  • The content on this blog represents the personal opinions, observations, and commentary of the author. It is intended for editorial and journalistic purposes and is protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution.
  • Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.

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Published by stenoimperium

We exist to facilitate the fortifying of the Stenography profession and ensure its survival for the next hundred years! As court reporters, we've handed the relationship role with our customers, or attorneys, over to the agencies and their sales reps.  This has done a lot of damage to our industry.  It has taken away our ability to have those relationships, the ability to be humanized and valued.  We've become a replaceable commodity. Merely saying we are the “Gold Standard” tells them that we’re the best, but there are alternatives.  Who we are though, is much, much more powerful than that!  We are the Responsible Charge.  “Responsible Charge” means responsibility for the direction, control, supervision, and possession of stenographic & transcription work, as the case may be, to assure that the work product has been critically examined and evaluated for compliance with appropriate professional standards by a licensee in the profession, and by sealing and signing the documents, the professional stenographer accepts responsibility for the stenographic or transcription work, respectively, represented by the documents and that applicable stenographic and professional standards have been met.  This designation exists in other professions, such as engineering, land surveying, public water works, landscape architects, land surveyors, fire preventionists, geologists, architects, and more.  In the case of professional engineers, the engineering association adopted a Responsible Charge position statement that says, “A professional engineer is only considered to be in responsible charge of an engineering work if the professional engineer makes independent professional decisions regarding the engineering work without requiring instruction or approval from another authority and maintains control over those decisions by the professional engineer’s physical presence at the location where the engineering work is performed or by electronic communication with the individual executing the engineering work.” If we were to adopt a Responsible Charge position statement for our industry, we could start with a draft that looks something like this: "A professional court reporter, or stenographer, is only considered to be in responsible charge of court reporting work if the professional court reporter makes independent professional decisions regarding the court reporting work without requiring instruction or approval from another authority and maintains control over those decisions by the professional court reporter’s physical presence at the location where the court reporting work is performed or by electronic communication with the individual executing the court reporting work.” Shared purpose The cornerstone of a strategic narrative is a shared purpose. This shared purpose is the outcome that you and your customer are working toward together. It’s more than a value proposition of what you deliver to them. Or a mission of what you do for the world. It’s the journey that you are on with them. By having a shared purpose, the relationship shifts from consumer to co-creator. In court reporting, our mission is “to bring justice to every litigant in the U.S.”  That purpose is shared by all involved in the litigation process – judges, attorneys, everyone.  Who we are is the Responsible Charge.  How we do that is by Protecting the Record.

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