This morning I woke early with no alarm eager to do my civic duty and answer the call to jury duty. I decided I would only answer to the name Multnomah county gave me "Juror #133" I really wanted to be picked so I dressed as square as possible. When I got there I was amused to see so many surly people waiting around.
I walked to the locked door and got a few smiles by saying "OK i see how ya are not telling me they aren't open yet." I was hoping the guy that broke character the most would be my jury buddy. The whole place had new courthouse smell it was great. Looking at all the other potential jurors I imagined arguing with all of them. I'm stoked to fight for what's right but also totally willing to argue stupid points if my fellow jurors make funny faces while yelling at me.
In the jury aquarium i sat scrutinizing everyone. Almost everyone was Asian or older white folks, then two black folks, and 1.5 Latinos (including me) I was glad I was there.
One person was decked out in full anarchist ninja black bloc. I didn't know that was an option. I was glad to be dressed down. I really wanted to be picked. The announcer spoke with a thick Japanese accent. I wondered how she got the gig, then when she started her act I instantly knew. This lady was a riot.
She had trivia questions she didn't understand ;it was glorious. She would add a trivia question before giving instructions. "What country considers a pig to be lucky? What amusement park hires cats for pest control? Then it got really good.
She said a study found that dairy cows produce more milk when they hear music, what kind of music do the like least? A:Country music. Then she asked what musician the cows liked least? A: Willy Nelson (Heresy to me b.t.w.) this is where the comedy gold lives. Beside me were about 20 flannel shirts who bombarded her with country artists she (and I) never heard of.
After every one she would say "Toby Keith? I never heard of dat, try again..." I was howling inside. Finally someone said "Dolly Parton" She knew Dolly "OOooh I love her." She called out 50 names and asked them to call "present, here or Damn!"
She turned the whole room into 3rd grade as someone would yell Damn after their name and everyone laughed. She told those 50 people they can go home but need to return at 8.5 tomorrow.
Yes! I thought my chances of being picked were much better.
Then she dropped the bomb on me, "Everyone else can go home, thank you, your service has concluded."
No more extraneous trivia, no trial, no coffee, not cool.
Not getting picked was crummy. I kept overthinking, pondering what I could have done to displease them. Not getting the gig is not getting the gig. I was mad. I bought a laser pointer for nothing.
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