The lawyers in the courtroom where I was assigned today managed to pick a jury of 14 (12 regular jurors plus 2 alternates) from the first 21 candidates, so I didn’t even participate in voir dire, thank Nephi.
I thought the whole thing went very smoothly, and it was clear that the bureaucrats involved were making the best effort they could, within the constraints of the justice system, to make jury service as painless as possible. That said, any contact with a random sampling of the general public means that you’re going to deal with a few assholes.
For example, while we were sitting around waiting to be assigned, some spry retired guy was complaining about how long the process was taking, and how he could tell this was a government operation. Uncharacteristically, I didn’t ask him what the fuck else he had to do that day, and how many tax increases he would tolerate to turn our experience into something more like a trip to his favorite destination, which judging from his attire I would wager is Sam’s Club. But, really, how much goddam insight does it take to realize that you, the juror, are probably the least important part of anything that goes on in the court building? I was just happy that they had decided to give us moochers and looters wi-fi and that the toilets were working.
Other than that, I spent most of the time thinking about the defendant, who was a good-looking 21 year-old kid with a winning smile, which I assume will be much less in evidence after he spends some time in Attica. What a goddam shame and a waste.