This past Friday marked my last day in the training organization of a very large insurance company. Having joined the department just over a year ago, I felt it was time yet again to move on to another opportunity. In case you think I am a frequent job switcher, I was actually in my prior post for over five years. Before that I was in operations, where I returned today as an underwriter; that is, where I should have been today had it not been for jury duty.
A few weeks ago I received a summons to serve as a traverse juror for state court. I am a repeat juror, or as coach Pat Riley would say, a “three-peat” juror. Ten years ago, as a resident of the same county, I was called as juror #11 on a capital murder trial. We were sequestered for six weeks and one day. Three years ago, while I was living just across state lines, I served a term on a federal jury and was called twice — once not selected (tax evasion) and the second time serving as a juror on a civil trial (race discrimination).
Some people think I am the luckiest guy, as they have never been called for jury duty. I am not so sure I would associate being selected for a jury with the word “luck.” Misfortune is more like it. It is not that I do not see it as my civic duty (on the contrary people who try to get out of jury service for the wrong reasons make me ill); rather, it is a duty not to be taken lightly and one that requires a lot of mental and emotional strength. Being exposed to the intimate details of a crime, be it malice murder (like I was in 1997) or aggravated rape and sodomy (like I almost did today), is no winning ticket.
My term as a juror is supposed to last all this week, but I have tomorrow off and will report to work. Wednesday, however, I am required to be back at the courthouse at 9:00 AM for consideration in other trials. After sitting so much today with little to do, I think I might take an electronic book on my PDA (a little less conspicuous than carrying a full blown hardback novel).
