After only one day of jury selection, I was still content to joke about things and jot down a few acerbic observations that crossed my otherwise-blank mind:
Telling me to be back in the room at 10:00 AM and then not doing anything until 10:40 AM is not the way to win favor with a Virgo who is always five minutes early.
This endless hurry-and-wait atmosphere drives me crazy in regular life, and more-so when sitting to be called for the jury.
If this is what you wear to Jury Duty, in an official court house, what in the fuck do you wear in the comfort of your own home? No, I don’t want to know.
If this is what you smell like at Jury Duty… you must be one of those hoarders.
My excuses are all in order – if asked, I’m going to sing like a canary: my marriage to a retired cop, a list of the family arrests, and the complete and total inability to recognize right from wrong and a strong tendency to err on the side of the latter more often than not. Oh, and my utter distaste and distrust for the po-po – someone said I should incorporate the po-po into this for good measure.
One final observation: as tedious as the process is, everyone who works here, from the guards to the stewards to the lawyers, seems to be in good spirits and happy to be doing their job. I am not accustomed to this.
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