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Duty-bound My day of jury duty ... perhaps some useful lessons, perhaps some interesting tales, perhaps just a bunch of words: The summons instructed me to be at the courthouse in Woburn at 8a. (And to bring lunch.) Being wired a certain way, not wanting to be stuck in unexpected traffic, not knowing the terrain, and certainly not desiring to explore the consequences of running afoul of our justice system, I left myself plenty of time and arrived by 7:35a. After figuring out the parking situation and passing through TSA-like security, I checked in at the 3rd floor jury room. I took a seat--it was 7:45a. Oh, and my juror number? 13. That's a good omen, right? A bit after 8:30a, a court official walked to the podium and outlined the procedures for the day. We'd be there for 1 day or 1 trial, with most trials taking 3 or fewer days. Phones and computers were allowed in the jury room, but had to be off when in a courtroom. We watched a short, informative, and barely engaging video reminding us how fortunate we were to have the opportunity to be a juror. (All snark aside, I'm eternally grateful for living in a democracy that allows me to be judged by a jury of my peers. No matter my disdain for my fellow man, I would far prefer to trust my fate to the average American than someone much higher up the power and wealth tree.) After a short wait, a judge addressed us to reiterate the importance of our being there and to show off his snazzy robes (I'm inferring the latter). Relatively soon thereafter, jurors 2 through 68 were directed up to a 6th floor courtroom that would be the site of a civil case (preponderance of evidence, not beyond a reasonable doubt). Once seated, the judge (not the one of earlier pep talk fame) introduced the lawyers and the names of the plaintiff and defendant. If we knew the plaintiff or defendant, we were to raise our numbered juror card and be recognized. Ditto for the lawyers and their firms. Ditto for the listed witnesses. And ditto for the general nature of the personal injury cased (related to an incident on Broadway in Cambridge--the plaintiff claimed to have been injured due to negligence on the part if 2 firms doing street repair or construction of some sort). The juror with the lowest number (2--no idea what happened to 1) was then called to a sidebar, questioned out of the rest of our earshots, then seated in the juror's box. Next up, juror 3. Excused. Juror 4. Excused. Okay, I could now do the math. At number 13, I'd either be seated or excused--no chance of a full jury of 12 being seated before they got to me. Four jurors were seated when it was my turn. "Any reason I couldn't be impartial?" My answer was no. "Any major problem with my being seated for the estimated 4 days?" Again, no. (Work-wise, the timing really couldn't have been any better for a 4 day leave). "Could I explain the lawsuit that I'd indicated on my juror questionnaire?" As part of a significant home renovation (in Wayland), our builder was not in our opinion delivering quality work on schedule. We withheld payment. He sued. We counter-sued. "How was the case resolved," the judge asked? "We settled," I said. (The settlement being that we both dropped our suits.) The judge then looked to the two lawyers in turn. If either expressed any objection, I didn't notice. "Thank you," the judge said. I turned, fully expecting to be seated in the 5th chair. "You're excused," she said. I can only surmise that the lawyer for the defense (a construction company) exercised a peremptory challenge, worried that my run-in with a construction company would leave me biased. My instructions were to head back to the jury room in the event that I was needed for another trial. Before reporting there, I used the restroom and then checked out the vending machine for a snack. Ugh, I only had a $20. A woman stepped up to the adjacent vending machine and inserted some coins. I asked if she by chance had change for a $20. "No," she said, "How much do you need?" "$1.25, but it's no big deal." "Let me give you that," she offered. "No need, but thanks." Finally, "I insist." I took the offer, gave my thanks, and made my purchase. I parted with, "I'll pay it forward." Hunger averted, I headed back to the jury room. Another 1-2 hours passed. (If anyone from work asks, I was there the rest of the day and not home watching the day's Tour de France stage.) Lesson one: check in after 50-60 others have checked in. That way, you'll be at the end of the first jury pool, perhaps unlikely to be among the first 12 selected. Lesson two: bring dollar bills and change for the vending machine. (Or a nice smile.)