After a year of dodging jury duty notices thanks to valid “I’m in the middle of being in/making a movie” excuses, I finally had to face the music and pay the heavy cost of registering in L.A. to fucking vote in a losing battle against George Bush’s America by showing up for a jury pool at the courthouse downtown. I packed a bag with busy work (a PSP, the VA Christmas card list), and trudged off to do my civic duty, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t be selected to sit beside eleven of my peers and preside over an actual case.

Within minutes of signing up, I was pulled into a department (i.e. court room) for voi dire. The Judge first asked what each prospective juror did for a living. As prospective juror number three, I had a few minutes to figure out what I’d say, and went with simply “Film”, to which the Judge queried “Well that’s a pretty big field. What do you do in film?” Now, as a guy who doesn’t like to talk about what he does for a living in forums outside of the ones where people gather to hear specifically about what I do for a living, I’m never comfortable saying I’m a writer/director. It just feels so showy or braggy, not to mention very unrealistic: where most people have proper jobs, I have a gig in which I’m paid to make pretend for a living. But since the court was asking, and I was already under oath, I ultimately confessed “I write and direct.” The Judge said “Writing and directing. You must be talented,” to which I responded “That depends on who you ask, really.” And then, the voices of what I’d hoped would be my saviors piped up like a choir of angels, as one young woman said “He’s talented”, and was seconded, thirded and fourthed by some other potential jurors. I smiled and nodded thanks, but not for the props; I was thanking them for what I was certain was a sure ticket off the jury: recognition. Could either counsel possibly want someone sitting on their jury who was, even in some small way, in the public eye? Wouldn’t I be bounced for being Bob?