John Sykes—20th Century
A gentleman named Mark left a comment on last week's opus, asking if he
could use part of it. Now, for some reason, I get email that there's
comments left but when I go check out the post there's no comment.
What's up with that? Or, more to the point, why do you care?
Don't know and don't care if you do or don't.
But Mark (if you are real and not some fucking spambot) go right ahead.
Just let everyone know how great I is!
So it's the third week that I've actually taken the time to write
something (hey, I do stuff for another site too!) but this is my first
love (tee hee) so I should dedicate more here than there, right?
Anyway, did the jury duty thing this past Tuesday.
When I went to the check in desk, there was a gentleman in front of me.
When they scanned his badge they said that he couldn't serve on a jury
because it showed that he had been convicted of a felony. Was that true?
In detail he told what he did (something with alimony) and that, yes, he
was convicted of a felony. They fucking APOLOGIZED to him and told him
that he wasn't needed since he was a criminal and all that.
Sadly, that wasn't the case for me. My record was clean, even with
Crackwhore Village, etc., etc. Total bummer.
I then slunk into the jury waiting room and took a seat all the way in
the back with my trusty book. Yeah, like sitting there would make a
difference since who was picked was done "randomly" by a computer or
dropping the names in a hat. They really didn't go into detail about
When I was picked two years ago, I was out by noon. I expected the same
treatment this year.
They then had someone come in and tell us how great it was to serve on a
jury, then a judge came in and told us it was really fun to serve on a
jury and that we would meet new friends. Like that's what I wanted—I
rarely go out anymore so have zero social skills. And I like it!
Next was a video which was the same video as a couple years ago so I
read my book, trying to look like I was a professional jurist, that I
was someone who knew what they were doing when, in reality, I was scared
shitless about getting picked.
Almost two hours passed and they started calling out juror numbers. I
was 174 and was getting sweatier and gassier as they kept calling out
number after number after number. After 40 numbers were called, it was
over. And I was saved.
The 40 were marched out and the remaining 50 or so of us went back to
what we were doing.
I finished the book at noon. Noon was when were supposed to go to lunch,
but we weren't told to go so had to wait.
Around 12:10 a lady came in a told us that we weren't forgotten, there
was something going on in a courtroom that we were going to go to,
something that had been going on all day, but that it had nothing to do
with the case. We just needed to be patient, they would have things
worked out and then we would be able to go to lunch.
30 minutes later we were told that we could have an hour lunch and that
they were still working out the issue. What was it? A broken heater? A
lightbulb was out? What was the problem?
I went out to my car and had a cigarette and then surfed the net on my
phone (not allowed in the courthouse because it had a camera), then went
The only thing around was a five month old copy of People, so I read
that. And noticed that it really sucked. Didn't that magazine used to be
The lady came back in and said they had a (random) list of juror numbers
that weren't needed and could leave. Five numbers later, I discovered I
wasn't one of them.
A little over an hour after that, the lady came back in and told us what
was going on in the courtroom:
You see, the guilty fucker was going back and forth on whether they
wanted a jury trial or if they would take the plea bargain. They kept
changing their mind and finally, FINALLY decided that they would take
the plea bargain.
And that had NOTHING to do with the case?
Then we were told we could leave. Everyone was happy, saying they were
glad to meet whoever it was they were sitting next to, but not me. Fuck
that. I basically ran from the room. Plus I didn't meet anyone because I
didn't want to.
So I made around $30 for hanging around a courthouse from 8:30-3:15.
Drug money, whoo hoo!
When the woman got home from work, I told her what happened and she went
on and on about how she wanted to get picked for jury duty. I then
reminded her that she would be in a room all day and WOULD NOT BE ABLE
TO BRING HER PHONE because it had a camera.
This bummed her out and now she doesn't want to get picked.
COMING NEXT: Hell if I know, nothing else going on