When Duty Calls...

I haven’t posted in a really long time. I thought I would definitely be posting pretty continuously, but I’m busy watching Bravo Television and no one (not even my mom) is interested is what I have to say. I mainly blog so when I read this back a year from now I have a detailed recount of major life events recorded with such hostility and fervor that I will somehow feel that life is okay.

Late January I received an envelope in the mail and it was red. Red is never a good color to get in the mail. White is usually bad, yellow is worse, red means you’re fucked. Alas, I was summoned to Jury Duty. Or, at least I thought I was? The summons was actually addressed to “Elliott M. Schen”. Very strange. I’m not Asian. I’m actually a little white boy. But, the social security number seemed to be correct. So, somewhere in some government office I have been logged as Elliott M. Schen. I really am hoping this will help me get out of a traffic ticket someday (knock on wood). In any case, appointing me for Jury selection is terrible decision on the government’s behalf. I don’t like to make a decision about anything ever. As Elliott Schen, the choice whether to order brown or white rice at a Chinese restaurant is perhaps the highest level of decision I should ever be making, period. Naturally, I was really nervous, not for me so much, but for the old lady who is about to be sent to the electric chair on my behalf because she made an illegal u-turn.

So I registered online and the website said I could take an online test and I would be allowed I could go into court later in the morning on my selection date. Woohoo! Maybe this won’t be so bad.

I don’t by any means consider myself to be a political know-it-all or an expert in criminal or civil law, but I will say my two year old nephew would have aced it. It’s basically a test you cannot fail. During the test the court system forces you to watch about thirty minutes worth of industrial style infomercials shot in 1992. I am fairly certain Tony Danza and Delta Burke were featured extras in the training videos and/or it was just a series of old clips from “Night Court”. Every twenty minutes there is a set of challenge questions that one must answer before going to the next section of the test. For example, there are questions about parking at the court, bus fare re-imbursement, and cell phone usage. Apparently it is illegal to take pictures in the juror waiting room. This is a shame because the freak circus show that was in the holding tank was quite honestly in a word - HILARIOUS. My favorite was the lady who didn't know her name.

One of the questions was “Who is the chief judge in the Central District of California?” Okay, so I actually would consider that a fairly difficult question. If you weren’t watching the training video you probably wouldn’t know. HOWEVER, the test is multiple choice and the possible answers are the following:
A) Judge George Washington

B) Judge Arnold Schwarzenegger

C) Judge George H. King

D) Judge Judy

I guessed “D” just so I could see what would happen. Well, fortunately for those who are mentally retarded and guessed the incorrect answer the LA Court training seminar actually allows you to keep guessing until you guess the correct answer. The sad part is that I do live in Los Angeles and I would imagine a majority of people assumed that George Washington is actually the chief justice.

On the day of jury selection I drove to the Disney Concert hall and I walked to the court building. I passed by an Asian outdoor Yoga class and a man selling crack on the sidewalk and I arrived at the twenty story courthouse which ominously resembles a really tall state prison. With each passing floor the criminals probably are more and more violent. People who peed in a public alley after a drunken night at the Abbey - level one, child murders - top floor.

After passing through metal detectors and a bunch of security guards whom I wouldn’t trust cat sitting, I arrived at ten elevators, along with about six hundred other irate people. Many of whom were employees, several of whom obviously were on their way to court and many others like me, ready to sit around for eight hours losing a day of pay and eight hours of time. Two of the elevators were working. The elevator I boarded went to the first four floors only; luckily I was on floor seven.

After twenty minutes, I finally boarded a different elevator to floor number seven where I was greeted by two ladies - both of whom looked like they were actually criminals. Criminals that some humorous judge on the ninth floor (after a long day at the bench), sentenced them for eighteen years to be the check-in the on floor number seven. I walked up to the window and I told them I was there to report for service. “PAPERS!?” was the response. I showed them my summons and then mentioned that my name was actually spelled incorrectly. I was listed as “Elliott Schen, Asian Entrepreneur. They told me they were going on a break and I would need to get back to them after the twenty minute break.

A break? It’s 9:30 a.m! Are we in Mexico? I just checked in. Are you taking a siesta? You are joking right?
No, no. Surely enough they went on  a break. The break naturally consisted of the ladies just sitting around in front of their computers telling people “I’m on break”. This also meant that the other two-hundred victims waiting to see if they would be called to a jury had to wait as well. Ahh...government efficiency at its finest.

So, I sat down on a chair in the holding pen and took out my IPad and played Angry Birds. I was so angry in fact I breezed through fourteen levels. Some Russian guy started yelling at a poor, little, old lady who took “his seat” when he went to go for a bathroom break. He kept saying, “my seat”, my seat”, my seat”! Mind you, there were plenty of other open chairs. I wish one of them was electric. Rather than engaging in such a ridiculous argument, the old woman calmly said to him “This is America, get a life!” and took an alternate seat in the row behind him. Everyone in the room applauded her gusto, and I imagined this was probably the most applause she’d received in a very long time.

I wish I had been allowed to take pictures because the best part about the holding tank were the .99 cent store Christmas decorations strung about the room. And it was February!

I wondered to myself if they’d actually been there since December of 2011, and had no one bothered to take them down? The most likely scenario is that someone asked the two ladies at the check in counter to take the decorations down and one of them replied “That ain’t our job”, and the other one said, “We’re on break!” And then, because of some ridiculous union regulation no action could be taken. Or perhaps they were a symbolic “fuck you, we’ve been here all year, so will you”. Also of notice was the broken water fountain, covered up with a trash bag. I’m assuming maintenance will fix it - right after the eight non-operating elevators.

After forty five minutes the break ended I got in line again to have “Elliott Schen” changed to “Elliott Scher”. Surprisingly they changed it without hesitation. Finally, I had my life back, I had my identity back and most importantly, I wasn’t Asian anymore. By eleven a.m. the ladies announced about three dozen names that needed to drive an hour to report to a different courthouse. Which in turn I’m quite sure once they arrived they were just sent back to the starting point. Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect Two Hundred Dollars. Another half hour passed by with little to no activity and then finally the check-in sisters announced a lunch break. Ninety minutes. Good, I hope I have enough time to get downstairs to the cafeteria. It’s seven flights. I’m going to walk due to your broken elevators. Thanks.

I imagined in my head that the cafeteria would actually be nice. I thought to myself, it would be like the cafeteria at the Getty Museum or the LACMA. I had some delusion in my head that the judicial government would splurge on state employees for a break room, seeing as how apparently the employees almost always on break. Sadly, I was mistaken. It was like the cafeteria from OZ. No, not the “Wizard of Oz”, the mid 2000’s HBO series, “OZ”. I calculated out that I would be paid $8.50 for my day of service. A bowl of soup was $6.50. Chicken Soup for lunch with a diet coke came to $8.63 with Tax. I paid thirteen cents to do jury duty. Talk about criminal activity.

I won’t go into the details of the rest of the day other than to say I went so far in the selection process as to have to return the next day. I won’t go into details about the potential trial I was going to have to sit on as the details are gruesome and upsetting, but I will say the jury selection process was long and arduous and one could say emotional. And SOOOO frickin’ boring. So long and so arduous in fact, that the jury benches had been vandalized. Various potential jury members (the fine upstanding citizens of America) scribbled in pen had engraved various profanities and declarations of love into the back of the seats. “Jerry wuz here” “Fuuuuccckkkk” and “Kill me” were among the inscriptions.

My friend Jacob told me that if I wanted to avoid being selected when the attorneys ask me the question, “Where I get my news from?” I should reply, “Kathy Griffin” and I hurriedly will be dismissed. The question never arose. But I was dismissed eventually as I claimed poverty to the judge and that I would chose money over justice. A true fact. I also dressed as poor as possible, which for me just consisted of what I normally wear everyday to work.

Thus, I’m excused for at least another year. I really hope that by the time I’m inevitably summoned again next year they will have fixed the elevators.