Fear Not! I know that with no post showing up yesterday, my legions of followers feared the worst. That I had slipped back into the comfortable comma that is Illiterate Man. Tempting though it may be, and a damn near certainty on the weekends, I am committed this time around to throwing, er, bytes in the computer? Um, black pixels on the monitor? Ahh f' it - I am committed to throwing ink to paper (digitally speaking of course) at least once a week. With that being said... Off we go!
So while yesterday did not produce a blog post, it did produce some great experiences for today's blog post. For you see my fellow Americans, I, James A. Scott Jr., participated in one of THE most important processes of our fine Democracy (as tentative a Democracy as it is at this point) and gave my Thursday to the people of this great land. Selflessly and tirelessly I strove to better our great nation and uphold all that our forefathers envisioned for their childrens childrens, ah... children. With a steady will and a determined heart I journeyed to the very epicenter of the State of Arizona and presented myself with glory and honor for....
jury duty....
Yup, jury duty. I sat in the holding pen for almost 5 hours yesterday while some idiot behind me had 2 hour conversations about building permits. Did I mention we were in the 'Quiet Room'? Being that I am an army of one at my company right now, I worked furiously over the County Courthouse's free wifi (thank god) to try and get as much work done before my number was up. Last time I was called up for jury duty I sat in the holding pen all day and was told to go home at 4pm - that my service was complete. And boy did I ever warm up that seat cushion like nobody's business - In Service to America!
So I didn't really know what to expect when I was finally called up to the counter around 1:45 in the afternoon. Luckily I had a most fortuitous lunch in the cafeteria of the Courthouse just 2 hours before. A lunch, I might add, with 5 mostly younger women. After paying for my chicken cheese wrap, potato chips and iced tea, I found a high boy table along the back row of windows with only one other person sitting there. No sooner had I sat down then he left and no sooner had he left then a woman walked up and asked if anyone was sitting with me. About 30 seconds later a friend of the first girl sat down and maybe 5 minutes after that my table was filled with nicely dressed clerks on their lunch break.
So let's just say that I've had way worse lunch partners but what made them extra special was when they asked if I was bummed I was here. I told them that under normal circumstances I would be happy to serve, but I ran a small business and I was the only employee. If I wasn't there, the work doesn't get done. So the first girl looks around the table and leans in really conspiratorial like and says in a low voice, "You know, my judge excuses anybody in a small business with less than 5 employees.". After one of her friends say that her judge doesn't the first girl tells me that the judges are supposed to excuse anyone who works in a small business with less than 5 employees and asks to be excused. "Ahhh", says I. "Thank you very much for the information.". I can't remember for sure but I'm pretty certain I threw out a couple Jim Scott patented smiles and maybe a wink or two. All very professional though. Then I thanked them for their company and made my way back to the holding pen. Fast forward to being called up to the counter...
Armed with my ill-gotten knowledge I road the elevator to the 13th floor with grit and determination. Upon entering the courtroom I immediately notice the Defendant standing next to his attorney looking very much the uncomfortable 'polished for the courtroom' ruffian that you see on tv. After a long diatribe about how we were all patriots and will definitely get into heaven, the moment of truth is upon me. Looking very stern and unflappable, the judge asks if any juror would face hardship by serving. I boldly raise my plastic number and after listening to excuse after excuse from my fellow jurors, I stand tall, clear my throat, and proceed to assertively and decisively explain to the judge why I must at all costs be excused. I begin by explaining I had lost my last employee in January. I then explain how I am not in control of when work comes in and that the work must always be dealt with immediately. I finish in a flurry with a lament about how my job really isn't something that one person should do by himself, but that I had not been able to hire someone as yet. The judge makes a note on his paper, looks up at me and says, rather dryly I thought, "So if you aren't there, the work doesn't get done?"
"Uh, yeah... that's right - exactly." Unfortunately my glorious moment of "on the record" ended rather sourly as I realized that I had, shocker, been speaking a bit too long. But, the ends justify the embarrassment, as they say, and I was excused from jury duty with the promise from the County that they wouldn't come knocking for at least 18 months. As I was walking out of the Courthouse reflecting on my short but sweet service to my county, I heard the woman next to me breath a sigh of relief. I look over and realize that it's Olive Garden Girl. Olive Garden Girl is the sole provider for her deadbeat husband and rug rat and was excused from duty because she couldn't afford to not be paid the 4 days the trial would have taken. I smile politely at her and make some confirmatory comment. Then, as I continue to ponder just how lucky we are that we get to live in a society where we are afforded such luxuries as juries of our peers, my reverie is broken by the gruff comment from Olive Garden Girl - "Woulda been a waste a time anyways. That guy was clearly guilty. Did you see that tattoo and scar on his face??"
Ah yes, the harsh fall back to reality.
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