So on Friday I ran around town gathering up my documentation to plead to the court that they should postpone my stint as a juror. I pleaded bankruptcy as my job was likely not going to hire me until said jury duty was completed. My original start date was tomorrow, the same day as the one I was supposed to report for jury duty. Go figure that luck right? In order to get excused from jury duty, documentation in writing had to be provided the Friday before the date you have to show up (procrastination power: I was down at the court at about 9:00 a.m. Friday morning). You have to have a letter pleading your case and you have to provide official proof verifying said excuse. Then the paper threateningly says “all written requests will be submitted to a judge for review.” All of these hoops are designed to weed out folks without really good reasons for requesting excuses. And then the bit about the judge; I think that is meant to deter lying.
My paperwork from the court said that I could call today at 5:00 p.m. to find out what the deal was; to see if my excuse was good enough to be granted a postponement. Late in the afternoon we took a “get out of the house” trip to Ala Moana shopping center to exchange a pair of underwear. When I was young and up until my just-out-of-college years my grandmother bought my underwear. She bought my Mom’s underwear, my sister’s, my aunt’s and maybe my cousin’s. We were totally screwed when she passed away (for a lot more reasons than just underwear). None of us could buy underwear. My mom and I would discuss it if we found some that didn’t suck. We couldn’t match my grandmother’s magic. So once OK underwear is found, that is it. I buy this one brand from Macy’s. They are cotton and comfy and come in fun prints. The problem is that the “hipsters” are always mixed in with the “bikinis” and I end up going home with at least one hipster pair every time I shop (these are bad hipsters not good, fun Brooklyn hipsters). This time was no different; the first pair I put on once I got them home…..damn you hipsters…..I decided to return them (apparently confirming what your mother said about washing undergarments from the store before wearing). The exchange process was anything but smooth. I thought it would be so simple; hipster for bikini, pau. I had looked at the receipt to see if the one hipster pair said so on the receipt but it didn’t. When I gave the receipt to the nice Macy’s lady she actually asked me if I knew which one of the unidentifiable pairs listed on it was the blue and white hipster. Hilarious! Like I knew some secret Macy’s code that she didn’t. Ultimately it didn’t matter and they finally switched ‘em out after a manager got involved.
When I got home it was about ten minutes to five. I started peeling potatoes. I decided to make mashed potatoes (I would like to say that I thought it was a good idea to buy 15 pounds of potatoes at Costco today for two adults and a soon to be seven year old. Anyone have any good potato recipes?) I also made my smashingly good vegetarian gravy recipe. The clock ticked away as I juggled pots and pans in a very small space (extra small after being in much larger NY kitchens). I finally decided to call at about ten after five. I called the number and punched in my juror number. Then it asked if either my first or last name begins with “cli” and the answer is yes, yes it does. Then that lovely recorded voice said
Your request for postponement from jury service has been granted. You are not required to report at this time.
It went on to say that if they needed me in the future they would contact me by mail. I was so happy it was like I had won the lottery. It felt just as good. With the approaching holiday and my son’s seventh birthday next weekend, six months of underemployment, the prospect of being delayed from receiving a regular check, from covering my son under my health insurance, from putting money into my savings account instead of taking it out, would have been too much to bear so actually I did win; my own personal lottery; the best kind.