So a few months ago, I got called for jury duty. I was just a lowly reserve jurist, but as soon as I saw that summons in the mail, there was inside me a growing feeling of…
Yes, internet. I really, really, really wanted to be a juror. Like, for serious.
Back when I had breakdowns over career choices and not who has pooped today and who needs to (seriously important motherhood stuff), law school was my jam. I was constantly trying to decide between law school and graduate school and I would only be slightly swayed by my mother, an actual attorney who worked in an actual office and practiced actual law, saying things like, “Kathleen. It’s not like on Boston Legal.” and “You don’t like to work four hours a week at Borders. Trust me, you’re not going to enjoy being an associate.”
(Side note: Remember Borders? Remember bookstores in general?)
(Yeah, I didn’t enjoy working there.)
But being a juror! This could be perfect! I’d get to wear all the cute clothes I’ve bought and can’t wear because my life is basically one long laundry day. It would be JUST like Boston Legal! Except I’d be finished at 5pm.
And okay, I’m not saying I’d like to leave my family but hear me out here. A four-to-six-week sequestered trial for a mom who does not think twice about going to bathroom in front of her spawn? THAT’S LIKE A VACATION.
A vacation I’d get paid $16 a day for!
People whine about how paltry the jury pay is, since you have to, like, not go to work. But joke’s on you, sucker, I don’t have a job! That’s like a really good Kidscycle day EVERY DAY WHAT.
And besides, when I paid an embarrassing amount of money to go see Dean Strang and Jerry Buting talk about themselves for two hours in March (still right up there with my wedding night for most fun I’ve had in downtown Milwaukee), they said we should all be honored to be on a jury! It’s our sacred civic duty! YES! I’d be making Dean and Jerry proud!
Oh my gosh, guys. What if I got on one of their cases. It would be like living in a Netflix documentary except I’d have my evenings to myself and no one would make me cut up their “wapples” for for them in the morning. I could eat my own damn wapples…waffles by myself and in a timely manner. I COULD BECOME BESTEST FRIENDS WITH JERRY.
MY LIFE’S GOAL.
Of course, no one else seemed to share my glee. My husband looked all nervous and said, “Um, do I need to take off of work?” (I forgot that someone makes more than $16 a day here.) I think he’s intimidated by my Strang/Buting love and was clearly worried one or both of them would fall in love with me.
My mom, who knows me better than probably anyone in the world, and also is my principal child caregiver, was concerned. Because she could see me mentally packing for my two months away (is it getting longer?) and frankly is done hearing me wax poetic about the beauty that is a Strang/Buting defense.
She knew that if I was allowed to be on a jury, I would become a crazy lady. I would be like “Okay guys, let’s not worry about this tonight. Who wants dinner? We can pick this up on Monday, all right? No worries. I’ve still got half a box of wine in my room. Anybody know which Dateline is on tonight?”
She’s totally right. I could be on a case where the guy literally announced in the middle of the trial that he was guilty and I would seriously try to keep it going. I’m not sure I heard him. Guys, we need to talk about whether he really meant it. Yes I know he was found with his hands in that dead body. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for that. Let’s just cool off over the weekend and then we can talk about that one episode of CSI:NY where…”
Oh man. It would be great.
Hell. Even NOT getting on an actual jury would be great. Sitting by myself in a room with a book for an afternoon. Not feeling badly that I don’t have dinner ready, sorry honey, my country was calling. I’m getting shivers just thinking about it.
Of course, as is so often the case, the justice system disappointed me. I was up the last two days and WAS NOT EVEN CALLED IN. So basically I just got all the stress of jury duty and trying to rearrange my schedule and find childcare and all that jazz and then I DID NOT EVEN GET TO RELAX AND TELL ANYONE ABOUT HOW I FEEL ABOUT JUSTICE.
And I still have yet to become bffs with Jerry Buting.
Pssh. Whatever. It’s their loss. I’ve seen Making a Murdered like six times. I’m basically a lawyer now.