Jury Duty in Guilford County, North Carolina: A Play-by-Play

I was called to jury duty in the lovely city of Greensboro, North Carolina, county of Guilford, back in March. While waiting, I took copious notes that I know you will find completely fascinating. Yes, I know it is June. Refer to my article about being a slacker for the explanation to that mystery. At any rate, those of you who have not yet been blessed with jury duty may want an insider perspective to find out what's in store, or at least to prepare your exit strategy. Those of you who are acquainted with my prior work know that I cannot pass up this opportunity for a snarky (yet respectful!) recap, so hang on, here goes:

8:30am, Jury Assembly Room: The jury summons said to be here at 8:15. I arrived at the courthouse at 10 after but forgot about the security line, the head of which I reached around 8:20. after explaining to the guard at the beeping metal detector about the plate in my leg (he said, "I understand" in the exact tone of voice of someone to whom every third person has mentioned the plate in her leg), I was wanded, passed through and set loose in the courthouse, a spectacularly boring building.

8:35am: Three people arrived later than I, but most everyone apparently remembered about the security line. To my credit, I am not the kind of scofflaw who has to make frequent visits to the building, and so I question the moral standing of my co-selectees. I look at them suspiciously, but no one notices. At any rate, their reward for being early is to sit around for longer, because slack has been cut for the forgetful this morning.

The jury clerk, a slender, elegant lady named Gwen whose soft-spoken exterior no doubt conceals the brook-no-foolishness steel spine of the seasoned civil servant, welcomes us, checks us in and assures us that she will validate our parking stubs LATER (drat, no sneaking out, then).

9:00am: We are now watching an instructional video while Gwen, who has enumerated the Five Factors that can disqualify one as a juror, hears the excuses of people who believe they are possessed of at least one of the five, which are: 1) not being a citizen of the U.S. or not being a resident of Guilford County; 2) age (being under 18 or over 72, unless you are a 72-year-old who is drawn to the semi-recumbent crime-fighting aspects of jury duty and bored today, in which case you can stay; 3)having a felony conviction (you will just have to take your company-loving misery somewhere else, buster); 4) not being able to understand English (que?); or 5) having a physical or mental disability that is sufficient to be an obstacle to service. We are all free to contemplate which one of the Factors each person suffers from-that young Latina-age or language? The middle-aged blonde-residency or mental illness?

9:30am: The video, while not entertaining, was informative. I had to fuss at two girls in front of me who were chattering like magpies the whole time, making me feel even older than the saying "chattering like magpies". For you whippersnappers out there, magpies are crows, okay? The kind in the Windex commercials with the white bibs. They're noisy, get it?

Gwen imparts more information, such as break times, lunch time (an hour and a half!) and how much we will be paid. Our compensation for a day of service is the princely sum of 12 bucks, which is less than I make in one hour at my infinitely cooler job that I already miss. It is, however, more than I make in a week on AC, so perhaps I can't be blamed for boring my readers in a desperate attempt to wring a few more pennies out of the experience. To that end, I also produced this amusing poem (which I published in a more timely manner)

9:45am: Gwen delivers heartening news: Of the four possible cases that might have needed a jury this week, one has already been seated and one has been settled out of court, so with only two remaining, my odds of blowing this popsicle stand have improved by 100%. Only about a dozen people asked to be eliminated per the Five Factors, but it looks like all of them actually were.

10:00am: Released to do so, some of us have opted for the cushier chairs, coffee and TV of the jury break room, adjacent to the assembly room. Left to my own devices, I contemplate things like why the hell they left Farrah out of the dead-people montage at the Oscars. Didn't she actually win an Oscar? Maybe it was a Golden Globe. Whatever; that's still wrong.

11:00am: The tedium is finally broken when people are called for voir dire-the cases are finally ready to be seated! Gwen calls out about 30 names from the list, and mine is not one of them. Huzzah, as they say at the Ren Faire (hey, I don't edit Wikipedia, but I gots to get my nerd on just a lil' bit. I like Picard, in case you were wondering.)

11:45am: Further huzzahs are to be had when the delighted rejects file back in from voir dire (the jury selection process, for those of you who don't want to miss one scintillating word of my recap to google it). Both juries have been seated, and instead of just being released for lunch, we are going home! Glee! I get my parking pass validated, sign the form for my pay (and my getting out of jury duty for two more years), and skip out into the sunshine. I have the whole day off, but I go back to my job and try to make up for all the money I lost!