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October 16, 2006

Jury Duty Reject

Jury Duty.

I got the letter over a month ago. Two weeks is what they ask for you to be on duty. They give you an after-hours number to call to find out if your pool needs to appear. The first week I did not have to appear. The second week I did.

I was supposed to be there at 8:15am. My kids catch the bus at 8:00am, so it was a bit of a struggle for us. We adjusted our morning routine and I took them to a girlfriend's house since my husband was working, my mom was out of town and the older kids get on their bus before the younger ones. I figured they could just get on at my friend's kid's stop and ride the bus with them. It seemed to be a thrill for my boys, something different to spice up the everyday tasks of riding the bus.

Whatever.

So I dropped them off and went on my merry(less) way, checking the Juror brochure that I was sent, trying to figure out where the building was and where the ramp was in location to the building. I guess, in a certain ramp, they have Juror Parking. Oooh-la-la. But you have to get there early, which I was not. I called the husband and he helped with directions. Since I was approaching downtown from a different angle than intended I had to get my bearings (I'm not good with maps or directions).

Soon the ramp was in sight and I entered, praying that the top of my big old van wouldn't scrape the cement ceiling of the ramp. As I drove, cringing at each bump I noticed the stalls were all marked as permit parking. I cursed the stupid ramp, retracing my turns and curves to find the Juror Stalls (which I never found). I did find metered spots, which I was happy to find since I was approaching tardiness and there was construction going on in the ramp sending quivers and booms through the structure (I have wee bit of freaked-outedness when it comes to ramps under construction -- bit of a phobia).

Exiting the van I realized that I was not bright enough to add Get Change For Parking to the To Do list over my busy weekend. I had about a nickel. The meter read a brazen 0:00, flashing, taunting me with the threat of a ticket. I flew out of there as fast as my fat little legs could go, to the court house. Without plugging Mr. Meter.

I had to go through metal detectors, sign in, put my badge on my shirt and fill out a short questionnaire. There were about 100 people in a large conference room and we listened to a woman talk a bit, explain parking (which I had already asked about -- apparently there is a 30 minute grace period). She talked, showed a video on the importance of being a jury, civic duty blabla. Short break, allowing me to get change for my $5 and run out to the ramp.

I'll admit I'm not in tip top shape, but going up the stairs, out into the world, uphill and then up two (or four -- do you count each set as a "flight" of them ?) more flights of stairs, my gluteus maximus was kicking itself, thighs burning and lungs feeling as if they are going to explode (I've got a nasty cold going on which does not help the situation). I tried to act all casual since there were other jurors out doing the same thing I was doing, but goodness gracious me, I thought I was going to keel over.

Plugged meter, back to building. All downhill thankyouverymuch. Back to the room where we sat. For an hour. I read my book, taking short breaks to glance around the room and people watch, daydream about the controversial, engrossing case that I would be an important juror for, sip my complimentary cup of coffee. You know, those kinds of things that us important juror people do.

The head lady comes back in and says that Wow, lucky day, some of you get to leave, calling off a number range of about 50 people of which my number is not in the range. There is some relief heard and people file out, a couple of them looking like they didn't quite know what to do.

After the dust settled, we, the remaining prospective jurors sat. Soon head lady comes back in and says number blank through blank have been assigned to Judge Soandso and they should line up. My number was not called. The jurors stood up, filed into line and exited the room. My mind began to wander. I used the bathroom and then moved to a table near the back of the room and began reading again. Two and a half hours had gone by. I started to contemplate where I would take my lunch. In The Courthouse Cafeteria, or a local downtown restaurant?

The head lady returns to her podium. More luck, the rest of you are dismissed. I think I sent enough people up for Judgesoandso and we will not need your services for the rest of the week. You are relieved of juror duty.

More audible relief heard throughout the room. Dis-what? Acting as if it were every day that I was dismissed from jury duty, I grab my purse and book and file into the line of reject jurors. One babbling on about how she is disgusted at the relief of citizens who did not have the opportunity to fulfill their civic duty and how unpatriotic.

I unclipped my badge that read Juror. Dropped it into the basket and handed my information card to the clerk who asked me if I needed documentation for work. I answered her no and walked out of the room. Past the pack of jurors waiting for the elevator, bypassing it for the stairs and my slow ascent up, up and up, back to my van in the terrifying ramp. To the van that still had 2 hours worth of quarters shoved into it.

I felt a little unsettled. As much as I whined and complained about jury duty, cursing it and the horse it rode in on, I was ripped off, man. Setting that time aside, driving aaaaall the way downtown. Getting up early, the abuse done to my backside in tromping off to the meter... and I didn't even get to see the inside of a courtroom, a judge, a stinkin' lawyer. Bogus, man. (of coarse if I had to go back in tomorrow morning I'd be complaining about that, but let me have my moment)

The walk of juror reject shame was long. Lonely. There were other rejects scattering off, some smoking, some on cell phones. We bonded in that room, no matter if it was spoken or not. But we had something. And it was abruptly taken away. So much for the whole "You're so lucky you get to perform your civic duty" crap.

Ah well. At least I'll get some pizza money out of it. Half-day of reading my books and drinking free coffee pays about 17 bucks. Not bad.