Serving jury duty but not being called to actually serve. I’m pretty sure this is what hell must look like.
I have spent my entire day sitting next to one man who is snoring and another who apparently has some compulsive need to pick his nose. He is sitting right across from me and is not embarrassed in the least about his unhygienic ways. No tissue. Not even trying to be discreet. His nose is rather large and for some reason that makes it more disgusting. I can’t explain why. All I’m saying is he could maybe grab some T.P. instead of the pick-and-flick method.
Prison doesn’t seem as strict as jury duty. We can’t go outside, can’t talk on our cell phones, and have to sit in certain areas.
Speaking of prison, this morning there was a convicted felon with a cane in front of me. I know this because he announced to everyone within a three-foot radius that he’s a felon and shouldn’t be able to serve. He was correct. He got excused at 7:45 this morning and limped on his merry way. Only in the jury assembly room could proudly announcing, “I’m a felon, I just got out of jail”, be a good thing. I maintain that man should have had to be tortured in this stuffy room like the rest of us. Just don’t call him for a jury. Done and done.
I know, I know, I should be proud to serve, this is my duty as a citizen blah, blah, blah. That’s all well and good but I never actually GET to serve. I wouldn’t mind actually sitting on a jury. Nope. Every time I have jury duty it means spending the day in a stale room with a lot of suspect-looking people and counting down the hours until I can validate my ticket and be on my way.
Just one more hour.
I can do it.