City attorneys are supposed to be a lawyer to the city. They advise city officials on legal matters, defend the city against lawsuits, write ordinances, prosecute city code violators. That kind of thing.

But that job’s not nearly big enough for L.A.’s city attorney, Mike Feuer. He wants to be a crusading consumer advocate, a local Ralph Nader.

He must. How else can you explain his lawsuit last week against Wells Fargo? Why else would he sue a business that’s not even headquartered in Los Angeles?

He claims the bank is mistreating its customers and charging outrageous fees, but that is an issue between a business and its customers. If the customers believe they are aggrieved, they can file a civil suit, seek class-action status if they want, go to a consumer protection agency or complain to bank regulators. There are a number of ways to resolve bank-consumer disputes. The city should’ve gotten involved in this fight about as much as Carrot Top should have gotten between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather.

When asked about this, Feuer sent me this: “My job is to stand up and fight for the people I serve, including consumers who we allege are being treated unfairly by an institution in which they have placed their trust.”

That’s where we disagree. A city attorney should advise city officials on legal matters, write ordinances, and, well, re-read the first paragraph if you want.

But if Feuer really believes that, I mean if he really thinks it’s his job to fight for consumers who are being treated unfairly by an institution, he could stand up for L.A.’s citizens against the city. For years motorists have paid to replace tires and axles broken by potholes the city can’t seem to fill. The handicapped have been forced onto the streets because wheelchairs can’t navigate buckled sidewalks the city refused to fix for years. And pedestrians get dinged $197 for steeping into a crosswalk if the numeric countdown has already begun.

I mean, really, Mr. Feuer, $197? What institution is charging outrageous fees?

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Mattel Inc. had been slowly drifting downward for a time, but it really got whacked last holiday season. Sales of its well-known toys – Barbie, American Girl and Fisher-Price – tumbled by 12 percent, 4 percent and 11 percent, respectively. Net income swooned alarmingly – like 45 percent – for the year.

Sirens must have gone off in the toymaker’s El Segundo headquarters. Because suddenly, everything changed.

Mattel sacked its chief executive, Bryan Stockton, in late January. His replacement, Christopher Sinclair, undertook an aggressive turnaround plan, employing the old two-pronged tactic of cutting costs and boosting revenue.

But the biggest change is Mattel’s embrace of the new. One of the criticisms was that Mattel had stopped innovating and was relying on its old physical toys even as kids have been migrating to tech-oriented playthings. So now, Mattel is in the early stages of a partnership with Google, among others, to create cloud-based toys that will let children interact with them. The company is looking into creating a 3-D printing mechanism that will let kids customize their toys, among other initiatives.

But in its zeal to embrace anything new and disruptive and to seek out cost savings, might Mattel consider moving its headquarters to a cheaper locale? To be sure, the company hasn’t announced any such thing. On the other hand, it’s not difficult to imagine that a move would be alluring. Mattel, a big-name company that makes wholesome products, is exactly the kind of business other states target. Those states would pay up to snag Mattel. And Mattel, needing to demonstrate to shareholders that it will do whatever it must to save money, would have a fiduciary duty to consider any tempting pitch.

Shudder to think: Could Malibu Barbie be replaced by, say, Texas Barbie, complete with rattlesnake-skin cowboy boots? Or Oklahoma Barbie, wearing a hard hat and oil-smeared roughneck slicks?

Charles Crumpley is editor of the Business Journal. He can be reached at [email protected].