About a month ago I received a letter in the mail. (dun dun dun!) I was living up at school when the letter was sent to my parents’ home and then my Dad phoned me. The letter was a jury summons. I was scheduled to call in a few weeks later. It is summer now, and I am still living up near school for work which keeps me busy from the early afternoon to late in the evening and it gives me a lot to think about every day along with a couple side projects I have taken on. This week goes by and I remember that it is finally time to make that call, so I begin my interaction with the automated answering machine that controls the court systems phone calls. I input my badge number and I hear back that I had missed my jury date…
In a panicked frenzy I don’t hesitate to tell myself how dumb I had been to forget the date and to mix it up and call a day late. I struggle to figure out what my next action will be to get things sorted as my pessimistic side kicks in, and I begin to Google “What happens if I forget to call in for jury?”
I feel the heaviest pit in my stomach as I read that I might endure a fine upwards from a hefty $1,500, that I could be incarcerated in the county jail for up to five days or both. My logical side steps up to rationalize that I can put off getting a car and a new laptop in order to afford the fine, and I figured that if I were incarcerated, I would have lot of growing up to do.
It might be time to step up and rise to the challenge. I could become really tough in jail by doing push-ups next to my bed every day and start my own gang. I would change my name to Thomas Stearns Eliot, because I don't want these guys finding me on the other side of the bars, and with the muscle I gained I would be respected enough to be able to start safely talking with the inmates to begin recruiting members. My recruitment style would be along the lines of putting myself in a place where I have something the others need such as knowledge, and seeing as I study English in college on the outside world, I would help my recruits with writing letters to their families and proof reading what they write. I would also start the spark in them to encourage my fellow inmates to write books about their experiences in jail so that their voices would no longer be quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass. When they finish serving their time or break out ShawShank Redemption Style they would be able to sell their stories and live a more comfortable life sitting on some good money and not as violent souls, but only as the hollow men. Men who were battered, bruised and gutted on the inside with a hardened exterior, but men most definitely and with tales to spin of their coming of age stories so to speak of the reality of what jail time does to you. I like to think that I would make it into their stories as a sort of redemptive figure in their lives. I would of course accept a percentage of the money from those who successfully published their stories and when it is all said and done, I would take that money to buy a new car and a new laptop and still have money to spare when I too have finished my time as a hardened crook and leader of the notorious gang, The Hollow Men.
I eventually realize that I can still call the next day and catch the jury office first thing in the morning to apologize for missing my jury summons. I set my alarm for eight in the morning and go to bed. I don’t dream about anything for the entire night which might have been a good thing so as not to let my mind run away from me and imagine some outrageous possibilities.
When I woke up at eight, I rolled over to the side table to grab my phone and make the call. After being put on hold twice, I reach a voice that is not automated for once. Thank God because I was beginning to miss contact with human life. She reminded me that I missed my summons date. I said “I know and I am so sorry, is there anything I can do to make up for it?” She asks when my first available date would be to go in and I tell her that literally any date works for me if it means making up for my mistake. By the grace of God, she put me on the next rotation of jury duty and said that I will not incur any penalty for missing the first jury summons but that if I were to miss this next one, I would definitely be at risk for punishment.
The phone call ends. The pit in my stomach from the day before vanishes, my shoulders fall down and my breath escapes me in a long-winded sigh of relief. This was my first experience with Jury Duty and it could have turned out so horribly for me, and great at the same time should my jail time predictions come true, but God had his hand in this and gave me so much grace in my mistake and I am so thankful and grateful for that. I will be calling later in the week to find out if they will need me for jury duty and I am sure that I won't let this second chance go to waste.
They say it's your civic duty to take part in jury duty, but I can't help but think about the Hollow Men that need me so much more right now. I like to think they are glad I didn't get jail time because it will make me more employable without a record, but I am sure they are sad that I won't be there for them in their rough times. Though I am sure, our paths will imaginatively cross again some day.
