The correct answer would be:
Having to move and jury service. Both. at. the same. time.
Even better than that is that they both keep dragging out. We were all ready to go yesterday when we found out our new place wasn't ready to receive us. The landlady had some workmen in to install a new kitchen and they left a huge mess. So we move today instead.
As for the jury service, I wasn’t one of the jurors selected for the current case so I have to go back next week. AGAIN! I know! Awesome, right? There’s nothing an unemployed person likes to do more than drag his ass out of bed, get dressed and head into the city to be bored out of his mind all day. This may sound familiar. That's because that is exactly how an actual job is like. Right? But, seeing as I'm not getting paid for this I'm going to go to have to conclude that I am, in fact, still unemployed.
Anyway, as easy as it would be to get into a full-on rant about all of this, I’m going to change the atmosphere a little. Being that this is my first time doing jury service, I’ve decided to share a little what I’ve learned so far:
- The building that houses all of the courtrooms is called the “Hall of Justice”. I've only been in it a few times but I can confirm with a reasonable amount of certainty that the Super Friends do not operate from this building. Very disappointing.
|The building doesn't even look the same!|
- Our legal system here in Trinidad and Tobago is based on the British legal system. That means the attorneys and even the judges (known as magistrates here) all wear long, flowing, black robes. All they’re missing are hoods and sickles.
- Jurors don’t get robes. Or hoods, or sickles. What the hell is up with that?! Aren't we all part of the team now? We’re helping you all do your jobs, people! How about letting us show some team spirit here?
- The attorneys who gracefully glide across the floors of the (impostor) “Hall of Justice” are infinitely more intelligent and important that that we are and ever will be. They know that and they want us to know that too.
- In the courtroom, cell phones are supposed to be turned OFF. Not on vibrate. Not even on silent. The magistrate hates when you disobey this rule. She will stop whatever is going on to express, at great length, her displeasure at the buzzing sound caused by a cell phone disrupting the courtroom’s recording equipment. She get’s really pissed if you text during proceedings.
- Finally, the magistrate – at least the one in the courtroom I’ve been
sleeping in assigned to, anyway - does not have a gavel. The hell!?! I thought that one of the perks of that job. If I’m going to be judge, I want a freaking tiny hammer I can bang to shut everyone up, dammit!
I picked all of this up and I haven’t been sitting in on an actual case yet. Who knew there was so much I could learn about the judicial process?