Is “mistaken” slot machine award of $11 million a “mistake” that excuses the casino from paying?

Contract law problem: couple walks into a casino, plays a slot machine, and wins $11 million. Casino representative claims the award was a mistake caused by a computer glitch and that the proper the couple “actually won $1627.82. The $11 million was what we call a ‘reset value.’ It’s what the jackpot would have been after the prize was claimed.”

It’s a real situation, and, apparently, “the second time in three months a Colorado slot machine has made a multi-million dollar mistake. In March, a machine malfunction was blamed for a $42 million dollar jackpot.” (hat tip to techdirt.)

But here’s the question the stories don’t resolve: is the casino entitled to pay only $1,627.82? In legal jargon, the casino is seeking “reformation” of the contract it had entered into with the couple — that is, the casino is claiming it can “rewrite” the contract it had with the couple. I put “rewrite” in quotation marks because the contract was not written but, instead, was implicitly understood by the couple and the casino to provide that if they paid their money and pulled the lever on the slot machine they’d be entitled to the winnings that appeared, if any. The reformed contract would be that the casino agreed to pay any amount up to $1,627,82 in exchange for the couple paying the money necessary to play the game.

I don’t know enough about the regulation of casinos to supply the answer to this problem. It may well be that casino bets are treated differently than other contracts. Nevertheless, if standard contract law does apply, the basis of the casino’s position would be a claim that it had made a mistake — that it understood the machine would operate in a manner that would make the top prize the lower amount but, as events proved, that understanding was mistaken. The mistake would be “unilateral” rather than “mutual” because the couple would not have been operating under the same assumption.

In order to prevail on a defense of mistake, mutual or unilateral, the person asserting the defense must establish it did not “assume the risk” of the mistake.” To prevail on a defense of unilateral mistake, the person must also establish either (1) that enforcing the mistaken contract would be “unconscionable”  or (2) the other party knew of or caused the mistake.

Plainly, the couple did not know of or cause the mistake. Whether enforcement of the deal the couple thought it was getting would be “unconscionable” is a difficult question to answer. A deal is “unconscionable” if it is so grossly unfair it would the court won’t enforce it. The mere fact the casino makes out so badly isn’t “unconscionable.” We enjoy the “freedom of contract,” which means we are entitled to take stupid risks and courts will enforce the deals we made that subjected us to those risks (unless, of course, you’re an investment bank).

But whether the deal is “unconscionable” really turns, to my mind, on the other question: did the casino assume t his risk? On the one hand, the casino is the one responsible for the hardware or software that caused the glitch. Moreover, if I read the casino’s explanation correctly, the $11 million the machine originally indicated the couple had won is within the realm of reasonable payoffs on that machine. “It’s what the jackpot would have been after the prize [I presume the $1,672] was claimed.” But, given the casino’s online page of “jackpot winners” — none of whom won more than $10,500 — that doesn’t really seem to be what the casino intended to say.

Finally, the “glitch” is one the casino had reason to know might happen. It was the second time in three months a Colorado slot machine had made a multi-million dollar mistake, and the earlier one was for quite a bit more ($42 million rather than “merely” $11 million).

On the other hand, if the couple had no reasonable grounds to believe their bet could earn them $11 million, it seems a lot less likely they could prevail. In essence, the defense of mistake does not enforce a deal when it turns out the deal literally enforced would turn out to be something entirely different than what the parties believed they were agreeing to. Were they entering into a bet that they knew might pay $11 million? If so, the couple ought to win. If not, the casino ought to win.

If you understand the uses and limits of maps, you can begin to understand the uses and limits of legal rules (and it doesn’t hurt to know the offside rules in soccer and hockey)

Jeff Lipshaw of Suffolk Law School has been asked to teach Suffolk’s six credit contracts course next year and has “been puzzling . . . about . . . teaching philosophy.” As he claims, “Contracts is the often the bane of the first year experience, and I am thinking about hitting the reasons head on.” I think Lipshaw’s point is the same I’ve been trying to get across frequently in this blog — learning law (and perhaps, especially, contract law)  is not a matter of learning rules you apply to the world, thence to go on your merry way as a lawyer who knows and understands law. Rules are useful guides, but different rules are useful in different situations; when a situation changes, a particular rule may be useless — it may be too specific, and not take into account specifics never contemplated when the rule was formulated, or it may be too general to be of any practical use.

Lipshaw writes (emphasis added):

I’ve concluded instead that the way to approach the subject (and relieve some student angst at the same time) is to reject at the outset the idea that what they are learning maps on the real world.  It is more helpful to think of contract law as most casebooks begin – with the idea of the objective law of contracts, or, as we say more explicitly in areas like partnership, the default rules upon which the legal consequences of a binding promise will be imposed on parties after the fact when indeed there is no subjective evidence of an intent to be bound at all, or legally, or on what specific terms. . . . Said with more jargon, contract law may or may not map well onto the reality of private ordering, and the mistake most students make is to try to make the map work. No – an integrated law of contracts, if one exists, is a figment of the . . . imagination, a way of trying to make unified sense of the whole of private ordering, whether that sense-making is by way of formalism or contextualism (or efficiency or the promise principle, to bring the debate forward in time).

Put otherwise, if the reality of private ordering is metropolitan Boston, contract doctrine is a map, based on the mapmaker’s view of what is important.  But you could have a road map of major highways, a topographic map, a detailed street map, a map of population densities, etc.  This is merely one map, or several competing maps. . . . .

Finally, the difficulty with putting aside whatever sense of reality we might have, and reconstructing the rules of the model (or game?) on their own is a little like trying to master the rules of cricket without making analogies to baseball, or the rules of rugby without making analogies to American or international football.  Let’s say you are playing cricket, and you do something that cause the other team to cry “foul!”  You have to make your argument why what you did was legal in cricket terms, not baseball terms.  That doesn’t mean there couldn’t have been other ways to play cricket, or that the world would be better off if we interpreted the rules of cricket differently, but to win the argument we have to fashion it in a way that appears to be consistent with cricket.  Contract law is the set of rules making up the objective contract litigation game, and some arguments based on those rules are cricket, and some are not.

A map that I draw you to get you to my house will likely be of little use in helping you navigate your way to other places in Ohio, but it will be very helpful as a means of getting you to my house. Then again, most maps of Ohio I’ve seen would be of little use in getting you to my house (which is on a road leading from one side street ending in 2 other side streets, none of which lead to a street (much less a highway) of any significance). And I could explain to you how being offside in soccer is akin to being offside in hockey, and doing so would help you understand the common purposes of the 2 rules (to avoid cherry picking), but when I’m arguing about being offside in soccer I better not be using rules and jargon from ice hockey.

Or, if you’d like to get even more involved in considering the role of maps in understanding the uses and abuses of rules, it’s well worth considering an article written by Boaventura De Sousa Santos, Law: a Map of Misreading. Toward a Postmodern Conception of Law, 14 J. of Law and Society 279, 282-283 (1987)(footnotes omitted; hyperlinks added):

UNDERSTANDING MAPS

The main structural feature of maps is that in order to fulfill their function they inevitably distort reality. The great Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges has told us the story of the emperor who ordered the production of an exact map ofhis empire. He insisted that the map should be exact to the most minute detail. The best cartographers of the time were engaged in this important project. Eventually, they produced the map and, indeed, it could not possibly be more exact, as it coincided point by point with the empire. However, to their frustration, it was not a very practical map, since it was of the same size asthe empire.

To be practical a map cannot coincide point by point with reality. However, the distortion of reality thus produced will not automatically involve the distortion of truth, if the mechanisms by which the distortion of reality is accomplished are known and can be controlled. And, indeed, that is the case. . . . As the American cartographer Mark Monmonier put it:

[A]ll advantages and limitations of maps derive from the degree to which maps reduce and generalise reality, compress or expand shapes and distances and portray selected phenomena with signs that communicate without necessarily resembling visible or invisible characteristics of the landscapes. The three elements of a map are interdependent. Scale influences the amount of detail that can be shown and determines whether or not a particular kind of symbol will be visually effective.

Maps should be convenient to use. There is thus a permanent tension in maps between representation and orientation. These are contradictory claims and maps are always unstable compromises between them. Too much representation may hinder orientation, as we saw in Borges’s map. Inversely, a very accurate orientation may result from a rather poor and elementary representation of reality.

When you are invited to a party in a house whose location you do not know, the host will probably draw a map which will be very effective in orienting you though very inaccurate in representing the features of the environment along the way to your destination. One more example: some of you may have seen medieval portolans, those maps of ports and coasts well-renowned in the Middle Ages which, though very poor as far as representation of the globe goes, were very effective in orienting navigators .at sea. There are maps that solve the tension between representation and orientation in favour of representation. These I would call, borrowing from French cartography, image maps. Other maps solve the tension in favourof orientation. These are instrumental maps.

I would like to suggest that this dialectic of representation and orientation applies to law as much as it applies to maps. In the analysis of .the relations between law and society we should [consider] the simple paradigm of correspondence/non-correspondence. In the following I will linger on maps a little while to analyse in more detail each one of the procedures through which maps distort reality. In the process I hope to interest you in the fascinating world of maps. As Josef Konvitz has said, “lt is a supreme irony that maps, though they are one ofthe most common cultural metaphors, are still far from occupying the place they deserve in the history of mentalities.”

One common distortion of which most of us remain unaware is the ways the traditional mercator projection of the map of the world grossly distorts the relative sizes of the earth’s various landmasses. Below is the Arno Peters map , which, as Sirius Bark of Temple 3 explains “isn’t perfect (every map (and rule) creates some distortion), but . . . does address some of the overall size distortions which dominate our more well-known Mercator projections” (emphasis and hyperlinks added):

Legal rules, convenient fictions, and figuring out when you’ve agreed to something you haven’t read.

I wrote on Friday about one legal fiction — that a corporation is a “person” entitled to First Amendment free speech rights — and today I can write about another: that contractual relationships are founded on agreement.

I can get one level of the point out of the way quickly. As first year law students learn right at the beginning of their first year contracts course, it is the objective manifestation of agreement that matters, not the subjective intent. You cannot agree to buy a “white” horse and then argue that delivery of a white horse is a breach of your agreement because you subjectively intended “white” to mean black. To suppose otherwise would create a practical nightmare — every contractual dispute potentially would have to be resolved by determining which party to the contract was a liar.

But how do you determine the “objective” meaning of someone’s expressed intent? As a general rule, if you sign an agreement that says you’ve agreed to X, a court will rule you agreed to X. In the online world, if you click on a button that says “I agree,” a court will rule that you agreed even if, as is likely, you didn’t read the agreement.

But there are more complicated possibilities. In Specht v. Netscape Communications Corp. (pdf)(S.D.N.Y. 2001), Judge Alvin K. Hellerstein (someone I once, many years ago, worked for) ruled that an agreement to arbitrate contained in an online agreement Netscape purported to bind anyone who downloaded a certain program from the internet was not enforceable. Why? Because under California law (which the court had determined was applicable to the dispute), someone, “‘regardless of apparent manifestation of his consent, is not bound by inconspicuous contractual provisions of which he was unaware, contained in a document whose contractual nature is not obvious. . . . ‘” Slip op. at 16 (citation omitted).

In Specht, Judge Hellerstein found that the provision in dispute was too inconspicuous to be enforced because the person downloading the program could have done so without even knowing he was agreeing to contractual terms that would limit him in certain ways. Why? Because the language indicating that there even was such an agreement could have been entirely missed — it appeared via a link that could not even be seen unless the user scrolled down on the appropriate page. In other words, the user could click through to the download page without even seeing language indicating that his download represented an agreement to terms he could find by clicking on a link. Id. at 17.

Judge Hellerstein clearly preferred online agreements that require the affirmative act by the user of clicking on a button that says “I agree” and made plain that Netscape’s failure to do that in itself (even if the link to the applicable terms had been visible without scrolling down a page) was enough to undermine its argument that an agreement had been formed:

Netscape argues that the mere act of downloading indicates assent. However, downloading is hardly an unambiguous indication of assent. The primary purpose of downloading is to obtain a product, not to assent to an agreement. In contrast, clicking on an icon stating “I assent” has no meaning or purpose other than to indicate such assent. Netscape’s failure to require users of SmartDownload to indicate assent to its license as a precondition to downloading and using its software is fatal to its argument that a contract has been formed. Id.

Recently, however, as Techdirt pointed out, the court in PDC Laboratories Inc. v. Hach Co., No. 09-1110 (pdf) (C.D. Ill., Aug. 25, 2009), disagreed with Judge Hellerstein and ruled that under Illinois law a contract provision available for viewing behind a hyperlink was an enforceable term in the parties’ contract for the sale of goods.

So, online sellers: if you want to be sure your agreements are enforceable, do what most online sites do — require your customers to click on a button that expresses their agreement before the transaction is complete.

Online buyers: be careful. Don’t believe that you’re getting what you think you’re getting. You’re only getting what the fine print says you’re getting. But if you do get screwed, remember too that even when you sign something it might be so unfair it is unenforceable.

If, like my law students, you’re shaking your head, thinking this guy is not cutting to the bottom line — what does the law say? — understand this: the law is not like the Ten Commandments, setting forth brief rules that are always applicable. Rather, much of the time it gives you guidance on how to minimize your risks. Assume that you’ve minimized your risks as an online seller if you require someone to click on an “I agree” button, and assume you’ve minimized your risks as a buyer if you’ve read and understood the fine print.

Then again, even the Ten Commandments are not as clear cut as most people think. Thou shalt not kill? Unless you’re a Jain, you don’t really believe in the literal truth of that rule.

1L Contracts, the blog: a new educational tool

My law school starts class next week. For my Contracts course, I’ve decided to maintain a blog, 1L Contracts, to givethe class an opportunity to explore the course subject matter in greater depth than 3 hours a week of class permits and the the ways the issues arise every day in everyone’s lives. The initial posts are concerned with, among other things, emphasizing the enormity of the project the students are embarking upon and the proper ways to read case law.

I first used a blog for a class during the 2008-09 academic year. It was a more effective way of getting my students engaged in class subject matter  than few things I’d ever done. That blog, What is Fair Use?,  also garnered some attention in the academic world. People get excited when technology is used in new ways in the classroom. But in the case of that blog, the excitement wasn’t merely a matter of fascination with technology. The blog really made a difference to the level of the student’s engagement with the subject matter. It also happened to be the first forum in which I wrote about copyright and fair use in depth.

And I’m deeply gratified by the kind words about the new blog written by Stephanie West Allen — a lawyer, author, law professor, and expert on the neuroscience of learning — on her terrific law blog, idealawg.

If you’re interested in contract law and in the difficulties of the first year of law school, please read along there too.

Amazon, EULAs, and Orwell’s memory hole.

Can Amazon take back from y0ur Kindle a book you thought you’d purchased? Well, it did exactly that — Kindle owners who’d obtained ebooks of George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm discovered last week that Amazon had simply deleted those books from their Kindles. No one seems to have known Amazon could do that — the fact the Kindle connects electronically to the internet has until now always been considered a reason the Kindle is better than competing ebook readers.

But did Amazon have the contractual right to do what it did?

The first thing to note is that you don’t “buy” ebooks from Amazon. As the Kindle’s End User License Agreement (“EULA”) states, you merely purchase a “license” to use the ebooks. The license is the right to use the ebooks under the terms of the EULA.

But does the EULA allow Amazon to unilaterally take back a book? I’m not so sure. I think likely Amazon is in breach. Nowhere in the agreement do I see any provision that gives Amazon the right to do what it did. Moroever, the EULA states that the license is one to keep a “permanent” copy of the text you are obtaining and to view, use, and display that text an “unlimited number of times”:

Upon your payment of the applicable fees set by Amazon, Amazon grants you the non-exclusive right to keep a permanent copy of the applicable Digital Content and to view, use, and display such Digital Content an unlimited number of times.

The fact Amazon refunded the price of the Orwell books would not excuse its breach. You can’t enter a contract and then unilaterally tell the other side to the deal you want to undo it.

So Amazon may indeed be in breach. But does it matter? First, it would be difficult to prove any damage over and above the “purchase” price, which Amazon has refunded. But there are two more important points. First, as I’ve written before about EULAs, anytime you enter one online you are probably agreeing that the agreement can be amended at any time without even any notice to you. Amazon may simply argue that its recall of the books was an amendment of the agreement.

Second, what are you going to do, sue? You can’t. The EULA requires any dispute arising under it to be arbitrated in Seatlle! Are you going to go to the trouble of hiring a lawyer in Seattle to start an arbitration proceeding so that you might be able to recover a few more bucks? Of course not.

Actions like these are why class actions exist — where a company engages in actions that cause small amounts of damage to many people, it’s not worth any individual’s time or money to pursue a remedy, and even if it were the remedy is so small that the company’s gains from the improper conduct are worth it. As Wikipedia explains:

[A] class action may overcome “the problem that small recoveries do not provide the incentive for any individual to bring a solo action prosecuting his or her rights.” Amchem Prods., Inc. v. Windsor, 521 U.S. 591, 617 (1997) (quoting Mace v. Van Ru Credit Corp., 109 F.3d 388, 344 (7th Cir. 1997)). “A class action solves this problem by aggregating the relatively paltry potential recoveries into something worth someone’s (usually an attorney’s) labor.” Amchem Prods., Inc., 521 U.S. at 617 (quoting Mace, 109 F.3d at 344). In other words, a class action ensures that a defendant who engages in widespread harm – but does so minimally against each individual plaintiff – must compensate those individuals for their injuries. For example, thousands of shareholders of a public company may have losses too small to justify separate lawsuits, but a class action can be brought efficiently on behalf of all shareholders. Perhaps even more important than compensation is that class treatment of claims may be the only way to impose the costs of wrongdoing on the wrongdoer, thus deterring future wrongdoing.

But you can’t bring a class action in arbitration. That’s why all these EULAs require arbitration — so that there’s no opportunity for a class action that would impose on the company the real damages it would be liable for to all the people it has wronged by its conduct.

Pretty clever, eh? Just remember, when you push for “tort reform,” you’re really looking to benefit wrongdoers, not to right the defects of a “broken” litigation system.

ADDENDUM: Maybe there is hope after all – in Harris v. Blockbuster, a federal district court in Texas ruling under Texas state law refused to enforce an arbitration provision precisely because the contract provided a unilateral right to amend. I’ve got to research this point more, but it seems on its face to be consistent with Texas law. I see reason, though, to think it wouldn’t be under the law of many states. The court says the agreement to arbitrate is “illusory” because it can be amended without notice. I would think that in most states the un-amended contract would be enforceable and terms that were added by amendment MIGHT be deemed illusory.