How to get out of jury duty

This week, I actually heard somebody yell, “Thank God for the gout!”

It was Monday morning and I was reporting to jury duty at the Columbus Consolidated Government Center. Marsha Coram, the jury pool manager, had just pointed to the tape on the carpet in front of the raised counter where she runs the show. She told everybody with a valid excuse for dismissal to step forward.

About a dozen folks jumped to their feet. Most of them were clutching documents and apparently had valid excuses, too.

It’s important to note that Coram is a friendly, down-to-earth person with a painting of Joe Namath on her office wall. But she doesn’t suffer fools gladly. If she did, everybody would weasel out of jury duty — and a jury needs 12 human beings and two alternates.

On Monday, one woman brought a baby to jury duty. Several of us sitting in the jury room flipping through five-year-old People magazines thought for a moment that we too should have brought a baby to jury duty. After all, you’re not going to get called up to a courtroom toting a baby.

But after listening to Coram address the woman in the same tone your mother uses right before she calls you by all the names on your birth certificate, we were glad we had not brought a baby to jury duty.

When the dozen folks had queued up behind the tape, many more people started to trickle in.

When each one stepped up to the counter, Coram asked, “What’s your problem?” loud enough for everyone to hear.

At the last minute, Gout Man stepped up to the tape, and then strode to the counter and made his case. When Coram delivered her ultimatum dismissing him from duty, he turned around and raised his arms in victory, and that’s when he thanked his personal deity for granting him with a debilitating illness that spared him from playing a role in the American judicial process.

The rest of us noticed he was pretty light on his feet. The door closed behind him. What seemed to be about a third of the room had been dismissed.

That’s when human nature kicks in. I felt duped. No way all those people had bigger responsibilities or more pressing business than me.

Which was dumb, because I actually like being on jury duty. I was originally summoned to duty in May when my oldest son was graduating and I had a bunch of conflicts.

I called Coram and asked her if I could reschedule.

“Well, sure,” she said.

“When should I reschedule?” I asked.

“When would you like to reschedule?” she asked.

So I got out my calendar and picked the best week for me.

Later, I called Coram to tell her I’d lost the summons for my rescheduled jury duty. She was just as nice, and said they’d still take me.

That didn’t keep her, when I reported Monday without my summons, from exclaiming, “Well, I’m going to write about you!”

As it happened, I got sent up to a murder case. During jury selection, a potential juror was asked if he’d be able to presume innocence until the defendant was proven guilty.

He actually said, “I don’t think you get this far if you didn’t do something.”

Judge Bobby Peters reminded him that the prosecution had yet to bring any evidence.

“You’ve got a dead body,” the jury said. “That’s evidence.”

The jury pool erupted into nervous laughter, leading the judge to give us a little speech about how the judicial system works.

Guess who wasn’t selected to the jury.

I wasn’t either.

It was fun while it lasted.

This story was originally published June 10, 2016 at 3:05 PM with the headline "How to get out of jury duty."