jury duty

It was one of Those Mornings™, the kind that you know are going to find you on one of those days when you aren’t looking; the kind that, once fate decrees is yours, is inescapable.I left fifteen minutes earlier than I believed I needed to, but as I crossed the city to reach our compact little downtown, I realized it wasn’t going to be enough. Worry caused me to push the accelerator a fraction of an inch closer to the floor before I realized something so odd and so silly that it made me laugh out loud:

What were they going to do to punish me for being late, put me on a jury?

As I made my way through downtown, carefully following the directions to reach the fabled Free Juror Parking, I called the courthouse and apologized. “I’m stuck in traffic,” I said, “but I didn’t want you to think that I was skipping out on jury duty.”

The voice on the other end of the phone chuckled and told me to drive safely.

The phone rang, and a very familiar number flashed up.

“Hi, dear.”

“Well, I got questioned and released again, so I’m sitting around. Is there anything downtown you want me to take care of while I’m here?”

“Can’t think of anything. You could call Sean at work and drop by to see him, though.”

“I might just do that.”Poor Jeff; he’s been called for jury duty this week and can’t seem to get seated on a jury, no matter how hard or honestly he tries. He’s part of a jury pool of about a hundred people that have been borrowed from their workplaces for the duration of this week. Their purpose: to sit (bored) in a room, waiting for the winds of fate to force a case to trial so that a group of them can file in to a courtroom, be solemnly oathed and sworn, and then questioned momentarily before being summarily punted back to the jury pool for another go at the next available trial.