So, I promised everyone stories the other day. Stories involving really stupid shit correlating to the entry I wrote earlier about the 22 year old girl suing for damages because her boss's husband picked her up and dropped her on her head at a mandatory office party.
Heh. Yep. Still funny.
Anyway, I have been to jury duty. It began one fateful day when I sat there and thought, what should I have for lunch and then I got a call. "You got a jury summons." And then the voice on the phone broke out in hysterical laughter. Maybe it was because I was mouthing off trying not to curse because well, that would be rude. Have you seen that one Calvin and Hobbes strip when Calvin's dad drops a christmas present on his foot and screams "Ripping dipping dang fang a ding dong!" or something to that effect. That was me. Although, Bill Waterson's ideas of the man's inner psyche probably did not consist of tearing heads off with your teeth and then fucking the esophageal passage while gastric juices spilled out of it. But that's not what I was thinking either. I was just kinda bummed.
So I decide that there isn't really anything wrong with jury duty and maybe I will get a cool case and I'm unemployed right now so I guess I might as well get it out of the way. It was time to do my civil doody. (Like how I slipped that in there? Clever, right?)
I got up on the morning of February 14th and got a ride to the courthouse. I know. Valentine's with Judge Bishop or Silverstein. He treats me good. He rubs one out under the pulpit, I mean judge's chair thingy, under his robes during trials, tips well, and rounds up on the hour so I'm okay with it. The halitosis takes getting used to.
But I get herded into large room where I wait, hoping, mostly, that I don't get called on. An hour later, we watch a public service film about the joys of civic duty. We, the people, the commonfolk that can't get out of jury duty (which means we're probably not very smart and don't have any real convictions) are the only people who can make or break someone's entire life. All up to 12 unqualified people who at the most, can form a complete sentence. Sort of. That I think true. See? Told you.
My name is suddenly called from the voices ahead (It's a large, deep cavern of a room.) and I slap my forehead in dismay and walk to the front. The group of us are ushered away, shuffling our feet like a chain-gang into a smaller room.
There are two lawyers. One, a smart talking man with a thick Long Island accent and the other, a quieter glasses wearing, thinning hair kind of guy. Both in their late 30s/early 40s. I think about what they did to get to this point in their careers...University of Phoenix online...selling blackmarket babies for tuition...eating ramen and cut up hot dogs...cramming time for the bar....cramming time in at the bar...barshhheshs...
And now they have a degree that will give them a steady influx of cash. Something I will never have.
Anyway, they proceed to tell me that the case today involves a nurse. Damn. A oncological nurse. Damn. A middle aged female oncological nurse. Damn. A middle aged female oncological nurse suing for damages. Damn. A middle aged female oncological nurse suing for damages due to pain and suffering. DAMN. A middle aged female oncological nurse suing for damages due to pain and suffering from injuries sustained at a YMCA. DAMNIT FUCKING RIPPING DAGNABIT DIPPING DANG FANG A FUCKING WHO HA DING DONG SHIT BRICK CUNTSUCKING DEVILWORSHIPPING HOBAG MONEY GRUBBING DICK WEEDS!
I was a tad annoyed.
At this point I'm a little steamed by this little play of manipulative lawyer speak and hope that in no fucking way I get called because someone will want me on the jury. Asian...check. College educated...check. Just out of said college and thus no job and has time to serve on a jury for Nurse Douche-y McBitchface who fell off a stationary bike in a fucking YMCA...check.
They shuffle through most of the people in the room, asking them questions, taking some people, turning away others. Finally, they are looking for one last juror. They call one name and the final name...is mine.
I would call foul play at this point or lunge across the banister but I am in a court room.
They call the two of us forward. I glare. I look uninterested. They ask if we can serve fairly. The other lady says she can. They ask me.
"I don' think so."
"Why not?"
"I think this case is completely ludicrous."
They get my ass out of that room so fast I think I left my conjoined twin on the cheap plastic seats. Nah, found him. He's under the couch cushions again. Oh, you. You love that hide and seek.
When asked outside as to why? You fucking manipulated the entire population in that room to see a withered old nurse who treats those kids you see on TV with no hair or eyebrows who falls off a bike and cracks her wrist, that's why, you dipshits.
I don't have to go to jury duty for another 7 years.
No comments:
Post a Comment