Guilty of Not Serving

I had to do jury duty last week, and so I traipsed up the hill to the courthouse, dreading getting picked for something that dragged on for weeks. I was selected as an alternate for a jury in a civil suit in Manhattan in the nineties, but back then, I was paid by my job (Marvel) for every day I was on jury duty. Now, as a freelancer, if I don't work, I don't get paid.

And if don't work, my schedule goes to hell.

I thought I could work while waiting in the jury pool room, but we were up and down, up and down, constantly taking the escalator, walking across the parking lot, and going through the metal detectors into the old courthouse for potential service. Then you answer questions or listen to something, and then head back down the stairs, across the parking lot, through the metal detector, up the escalator, sign back in.

I was lucky—I was called over to two trials, but was released from both. And at the end of the day, the service was over. They were not selecting new juries the next day. We were all free to go home.

Phew. 

In the ladies room at the jury pool center

Spotted this on the walk home