There are several things we all dread receiving in the mail.
One, of course, is anything with an I.R.S. return address. It’s rarely good news. Another is a jury summons. I don’t know anyone who reacts with, “Oh, boy! Maybe I’ll get picked!”
Well, not long ago, I got one. Only this one was different from any summons I had ever seen before. It was for Federal District Court in Galveston.
My first reaction was, “There must be some mistake. I don’t even live NEAR Galveston.” I quickly turned it over, thinking I must have received someone else’s summons. Nope, no mistake. My name. My address.
My second reaction was, “I have school age children. They will not require me to show up.” Wrong again. There are two valid reasons for not appearing. One is if you are dead. Well, sometimes I feel sorta dead, but I didn’t think they’d buy that. The other is if your spouse is almost dead. Put him in front of the television with a football game on and I could’ve made a case.
A friend of mine said he went to jury duty recently and the judge gave them this big speech about how great they were all for “volunteering” their time and everything.
How do you spell “volunteer”? It is spelled: “S-U-M-M-O-N-S”.
I showed up in Galveston at 8:00 a.m. on the appointed date and didn’t see a single “volunteer”. Nope, we were all clutching that little piece of paper that demanded our presence, or else. Everyone was saying the same stuff I was, how we sure hoped we didn’t get picked because of a multitude of reasons. All the reasons were good ones.
At some point it occurred to me that if it had been left up to us, only a few would have shown up. I began to feel my civic pride swell up and thought what a great juror I’d make. Yes, by golly, I was going to be a great American and help the judicial process work!
I was excused before I even got to the front of the line. They already had enough for the jury pool, they said. It was 8:30 a.m. I had driven 100 miles and was excused after standing in line for 30 minutes. I didn’t even get to sit in a courtroom. I didn’t even know what the case was about. I didn’t even get one single donut.
I tried to quell the feelings of disappointment as I stuck my thumb in my mouth and walked away, my head hanging low, my purse dragging behind me.
So … to mollify my hurt feelings, I headed to Dunkin’ Donuts. At least I got my donut.
