Some of this pool struck me as a little shallow, if you know what I mean

posted Mon, 04 Apr 2005

The Class Factotum, she thinks the Manolo, he would agree that even the most superfantastic Ralph Lauren brown crocodile slingbacks they are not good for the walking on the city sidewalks of the cobbles from the parking garage of the discount to the pool of the jury.

My feet hurt. My butt hurts. Is this the price one must pay for serving one’s country? I am honored and privileged to do my part, but if we can afford a brand-new stupid, stupid basketball arena that I sure didn’t want, why can’t we afford comfortable seating in the jury pool room?

Not that I wanted comfortable seating for the two persons sitting next to me. On one side I had a chewing gum smacker. (Chewing gum is not allowed in the courtroom. At last – reason prevails!) On the other, I had a fingernail clicker/picker/knuckle cracker.

That I did not slap either of them is a testament to my new and improved determination not to give unsolicited advice, not matter how much it might be needed and how much the rest of the world might thank me for it.

What made all of this bearable was the county commissioner of jurors. This guy – I’ll call him Merle – is dynamic, quick and funny. Merle spoke for 90 minutes this morning, explaining what we would be doing this week. He didn’t lose his patience when anyone asked a stupid question about something he had already explained five times, like when he said that employers had to pay employees their regular pay and someone asked if the employer had to pay the overtime he might have gotten if he had maybe picked up an extra shift that night. Or if the employer has to pay overtime if the trial goes past 5:00.

When the latecomers straggled in, Merle told them to take a seat. One of them dared to ask him to tell everyone to move to the middle. “No!” he said, endearing himself to me forever. If you want a good seat, you need to get there on time or early. That’s what I say.

So we sat and sat and then I got called for a jury so a group of us walked to the old courthouse. The courthouse is an old building with marble floors, high ceilings and ornate brass. Now that I am a metal worker myself, I find I can appreciate metal work better than before. We got to the courtroom right before lunch, so they dismissed us for an hour and a half.

When we returned, we sat and listened while the first third of the group was questioned as prospective jurors. I was thinking, “Fine. I’ll just read my book while they do this,” but the bailiff, who had a gun and handcuffs, so I didn’t want to mess with him, told us that we were not allowed to read anything unrelated to the case and that we had to pay attention.

Then the guy next to me got me in trouble. He whispered something to me and I whispered back but the bailiff only saw me talking so shushed me but didn’t say anything to the other guy! It was so unfair.

They picked a jury without questioning me, so I have to return to the jury pool tomorrow, but not until 9:30. Maybe I’ll sleep late.