There it was. Those words. You Have Been Summoned. It looked sinister and ominous.
Holy cow! I have been called to jury duty! First time ever! O boy! O boy! (a little dancing, a little high-fiving, a little "framing of my summons" going on.)
I know it is based on my being an adult, licensed driver, home owner, or somehow have an identification card showing I’m, . . . . what? Smart? Objective? Mature? Can I be your peer?
Here I am, almost 60 years old and I’ve been sniveling about NOT being “chosen” for jury duty. Like it was some kind of contest. So typical of my life – first in 4th grade being the last.one.standing to be picked for one of two teams. Now, I am entering close-to-retirement years and I finally got picked for jury duty. They say you have been “randomly” picked – but I know better. They couldn’t find anyone else taller, smarter, prettier, or more athletic and they had to settle for. . . . . . . . .me.
I’m kidding of course. It is a serious duty and my right as a member of the community and I wasn’t being snubbed. Much.
I’ve heard the stories, though, of how utterly boring it is. Very, very few get the high profile cases. The rest are domestic quarrels with your neighbor, shop lifting, bla bla snooze.
So, what should I wear? Can I bring my I-pod? My laptop? Food?