law and order

June 11, 2003 &bull uncategorized

Entry
I put a scowl on my face as I entered the courthouse. I wanted people to think I was a defendant or a criminal or something. It didn’t seem to work, though. (I wonder if the Pocket PC on my hip had something to do with it?) My cover was definitely blown after I pinned on the large name tag that read “JUROR.”

Instructional video
“I felt better about myself after jury duty.” -former juror
“Many jurors become friends and continue to stay in contact after their service.” -narrator

Coffee line
It’s interesting how much one can learn in a line to the courthouse coffee cart. One guy, an insurance salesperson, ripped his pants on a chair in the jury lounge — he was simply trying to stand up. He filed a complaint with the jury commissioners and requested a release from his duty. I don’t think it worked because I spotted him sitting in the back of the lounge a couple hours later.
Another fellow coffee-drinker started complaining about how long it was taking to get up to the front of the line. I politely pointed out that there was only one lady serving a constant barrage of customers (there were about 20 people in the line at the time). He conceeded, but said it was more likely due to the fact that people these days had to order “these new-fangled coffee drinks, which take like five minutes to prepare.”

Coffee lady: Can I help you?
Matt: Uh, yeah. Medium cafe mocha with two shots of espresso. No whip cream.
Guy behind me [thinking]: Ass.
Matt [thinking]: Ass.

First round
I’m imagining that across the country all of the people in this room are actually (i.e., physically) lying on an operating table. The flat line has just started and the familiar, steady tone is ringing. A doctor squirts jelly on the paddles and yells out “CLEAR!” (He does this just to impress the female nurses; actually nobody is stupid enough to have their hands anywhere near those damn things.) Meanwhile, the spirits of these people are sitting in a room, waiting to be selected for their deaths. Everyone has something else they want to be doing and no one wants to be selected. Luckily I made it through the first round. (“Breath, damn it! Breath!”)

Second round (a couple hours later)
Thirty-five more people were whisked-away to the jury selection box. I, luckily, wasn’t one of them. (“Don’t die on me you son-of-a-bitch!”)

Last round (a few minutes later)
The jury commissioner informed us that all of the day’s cases had been filled with jurors. Our service was complete and we were free to go. (“Beep, Beep, Beep — He’s a fighter…”)

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