20160425 (clarity)

Note the Y and the phone message. Everybody knows what the Y means, right?

User friendly is not obvious to

Everyone, particularly the people

At the Cuyahoga County Jury

Commission. Two weeks ago I 

Received in the mail their notice

That I was to serve for a minimum

Of five days beginning April 25.

The fold-over tear-apart notice 

Bore the full color seals of both

The Court of Common Pleas of

Cuyahoga County and of the

Cleveland Municipal Court

Whose matching stacks of 

Wheat and corn flourish in

The rays of the rising(?) or

Setting (?) sun of some farm

Presumably defying the laws

Of physics as the shadows of

The wheat and corn do not

Flow from the base of either.

That should have been my first

Clue. I read carefully (I thought)

All the directions on the notice,

Set the clock for 6 AM Monday,

Allowed time for the usual duties

To cat, dog, dishes, diabetes,

Drugs, and finally dress, choosing

Comfortable casual slacks, dress

Shirt, subdued floral tie, and

Standard blue blazer lest I get

Chided by some Judge Judy-like

Tyrant for showing up in an

Anti-war tee shirt, shorts, and 

Beach sandals in defiance of 

Traditional courtroom decorum.

I was told to show up at 8 AM

And to which building and office

Of the court system I should 

Report. They did not tell us 

The only entrance I, non-disabled,

Could use was located on the

North side of the building at 

Lakeside—furthest from the

Address entrance listed on

Ontario. They did mention the

Security procedures, x-raying,

Assuring me the devices were

Not hazardous to one’s health—

At least not as hazardous as

Entering the building itself and

Being shot by some irate litigant.

Wheelchaired persons were to call

To arrange special van parking

But were not told they would be

Required to use a door five 

Hundred feet from the regular

Entrance. I guess that’s part 

Of why they told you to call

At least two business days ahead.

I reported to the fourth floor,

Went into what I thought was

The proper door from arrows

Marked on the wall outside

The elevator into a room

Where the clerks bore that

“How’d you get in here? That

Door’s supposed to be locked,” 

Look on their faces. I told them

Good signs would correct such

Deficiencies on our part as

They shooed me in the opposite

Direction. I entered a hallway

Where people were lined up

On either side as far as the eye

Could see. I asked a security

Guard where to go next. “Line

Up alphabetically,” he said, which

I thought odd. I get to break into

The line at the MAs? No, you

Don’t, they bristled, go to the back.

One charitable soul revealed

The secret code: the line on 

My left was for M-Z the right

For A-L. When I got to the end

And turned to face the front

I clearly saw the two signs

Above and remarked that we

Could have avoided a lot of

Inquiry had the signs been

Turned around to face people

As they came in. After a half

Hours crawl to the desk where

Clerks checked us in, my M-Z

Clerk told me I wasn’t even

Supposed to be here as I was

A juror for the Municipal

Court. How was I to know this?

She pointed to a Y appended to

My juror number and told me, 

“The directions [in bold print

I should point out] are you should

Call this number to find out if 

You’re even needed. That’s how 

They do it in Cleveland.” Chagrined

(Or was it Kinsmanned) I

Exited in shame and regret for

Not following directions. Silly

Me, I thought. I called the

Number. I wasn't needed.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016