A Note on My Democratic Duties

Over the week of March 5-9, I had to take part in my “Democratic Duty” and report for jury selection.

The theory is if your peers cannot try you, how can you be assured of a free and fair trial? If a free trial is not possible, you do not live in a democratic society. So, in order to ensure that there is a full pool of jury members, jury duty selection is mandatory for all citizens.

Rather than go into the pitfalls of the theory, I would like to focus on the horrible manner in which it is implemented.

1. Employers are not required to pay employees who are called to jury duty.
2. Although jury duty is random, lawyers are allowed to excuse all and every potential juror from a pool.
3. If you are not selected for one case, you are sent back to the pool to wait for another case, which may or may not appear.
4. There might not be another case, but congrats if you weren’t chosen, you weren’t paid for your time anyway.
5. Your prize, no pay, and a three-year “Get out of jury duty selection” pass.

Kudos you savages, kudos.

By the way, lawyers are not called for jury selection.

A Question of old “AGE”

A couple of weeks ago, I got one of those “blast from the past” messages on my answering machine. Turns out my friend from high school and beyond came across a card I had given them some 12(?) years ago. It gave them the power to act rationally in moments of sheer irrationality as per their M.O. I’m keeping the identity secret for reasons explained blow.

This person recently turned 30 and it was quite traumatic for them at the time. Anyway, it has been quite some time since we’ve spoken, just diverging life paths, nothing else, just life.

As I reflected on the events of the meeting, I was glad that this relationship was opened again; good people should always stay connected to good people. There aren’t many of us around, so we need to be there to support each other.

On one of my previous blogs, which noted how turning 30 was great, even though I was in the midst of changing jobs…again…highlighting my lack of permanency at work, not married, not livin where I want to live (as per another previous blob – see “Dix sur Dix” to see why Paris is my real home, not just a vacation spot). So should I have taken it so lightly when I turned 30?

Well I have found the love of my life, a feat to which not many can say they have accomplished. That’s it, but it may be the most important. The other stuff you can always work towards, what I’ve got is yes or not. I’m glad to be on the yes side.

So, time to go, start working on getting to my real home, leave the savagery of this continent (see previous blog) and live where I want to live with the love of my life.

By the way, to the owner of the rationality card, I did have a great time, thanks for letting me back in to all the stories that I’ve missed over the past five years. Let’s do it again soon, next time, the family can come over, but this time, no pasta with salmon…wink wink;)

Back off Man or Jus min’ yo bidness, jus min’ yo bidness

As per my previous blog, I will now recount the story of the “encounter I had on the street car on the way home from work one day.

I guess two months ago, I was on my way home from work, stayed an extra hour , that’ll learn me to work late, anyway, waiting forever at Union station for the street car, nothing new. Station was jammed, nothing new. The 509 (the one I need to take to get home – the longer line, but everyone crowds on it ever though there is a shorter line (510) that comes more frequently) comes first into the station therefore everyone – even those that should not – gets on, nothing new. Ok, fine, I end up getting on and I’m one of the last ones to get a seat. I end up sitting next to this guy who shaves his head, (I bet he tells people he does it to look cool, but it’s really to hide that he’s going bald) and he thinks he’s all cool, got his headphones in, business suit and wool trench coat and taking up a seat and a half!

Through the early stages of the ride, as I have ½ of my leg hanging in the aisle, I try to get more comfortable and move more into my own seat. Ironically, there’s a response, but not a good one, not vocal either, this guy is also one of those passive aggressive types, so he takes in a big breath and as he does so pushes his arms out trying to keep me at bay. But as he’s breathing out, I try to take the opportunity of shifting weight to move closer to being in the centre of my seat (as my leg is still hanging in the aisle).

Passive Aggressive Act #2, he moves his arm pretending to get comfortable but in reality trying to reassert his space. I don’t budge.

He he’s really frustrated, he goes to take out his headphones and asks me if I’m “trying to squish him in?” “I’m trying to squish you in!” I respond rather loudly – I’m ready to cause a scene if he’s ready for it. “Yes, that’s right, you’re squishing me in” he reaffirms.

Oh it’s on, I usually slink away from any confrontation, I’m not the type, but this guy, with his Holt Renfrew bag in tow was asking for it. Taking up my space, then telling me I’m squishing him! Passive Aggressive I tell you.

Without telling him that the situation is in reality his fault, hey, I can be passive aggressive to, I ask “How can I be squishing you in if I’m halfway off the seat? Do you want to see where my leg is?”

Pretending to take the high road, as he didn’t expect this coming from someone who was about a half-foot shorter and obviously not working in the financial district, he says “I was just asking” I respond, now accusingly “No you weren’t just asking, you wanted to start something!”

And now he has to back off because he can’t win this one and people standing all over are getting embarrassed for this guy who is complaining while there are 20 people in the vicinity standing.

As he proceeds to pub the headphones back in his ear he states, “Well, I just think that’s ignorant” Oh, now he wants the last word! He starts this and now wants the last word. Nope, not gonna stand for it. “Oh I’m ignorant! Look at where my leg is, look where you are, how can I be squishing you. You are over the line where the seat ends, how am I squishing YOU!”

We repeat these lines a few more times before he finally puts the headphones back in without muttering anything else. I win.

My god, what a jackass he was. Funny, if you look at society, you’ll find that the older, well-off white men, are so shameful in how delicate they are. They are the asses with the massive umbrellas walking down the street, getting in everybody else’s way, taking seats from elders or pregnant women and then expect some sort of respect.

They are just a bunch of savages with no manners, no grace, and no sense. Well, point is, I won a battle. Although, reality was on my side for this one.

So to all you transit riders, be considerate, we all want to get home, we’ve all had stressful days, we don’t need the ride home to be any more of a pain that it already is.