I try to be a law abiding citizen. The only time I've felt like a real rule breaker has been in Germany when I crossed the street against the light as the remaining group of German citizens stood back on the curb, their mouths gaping.
In addition to my law abiding tendencies, I'm a weeeeee bit high strung. So you can imagine my anxiety when last week, two weeks before my departure to Berlin, I received a jury summons. "Failure to respond may result in criminal contempt of court and is punishable by a fine of $1000 or imprisonment not exceeding days, or both," it said to me in bold print. Well, I knew it was illegal to avoid jury duty but a whopping $1000 fine?? Give me imprisonment!
But that's all a bunch of big talk. My heart would surely give out if I were ever in any legal trouble of any kind. Hence, my desire to walk a very straight line. Although I did try to call the multiple phone numbers listed on the summons, every single one led to either a non-functional touch tone system or a person on the other end from a different county. Ahh, bureaucracy at its finest. With all this extra time of mine, I quickly realized that I would have to go to the office in downtown Brooklyn and deal with this head on. Awesome.
I was pleasantly surprised to find only one person ahead of me in line upon my arrival. (Considering the typical queue at the post office around the corner, I had given myself an hour for this ordeal). Although my exchange with the woman at the window did last only about five minutes, it was a completely maddening, blood boiling conversation. I was immediately reminded of a recent discussion with a friend (a fellow non-native New Yorker) about our diminishing small town courteousness and our increasing impatience and aggressiveness after living in a city that seems to push you to the limit almost every moment of the day.
This is how the exchange went:
Me: "Hi, I received this summons to appear next Monday, the 22nd but the thing is, I'm leaving the country just a few days later. For good." (Okay, a teeny tiny lie but I wasn't about to get into the indecisiveness of my life choices and my lack of knowledge of whether this move was indeed permanent or not.)
Grey Haired Lady with thick accent, raised eyebrows, and skeptical gaze: "You just postpone then."
Me: "But I can't postpone for two months," (now pointing at this option on the form) "I'm leaving New York."
GHL: "When do you leave?"
Me: "The end of March."
GHL: "You come in tomorrow then for jury duty."
Hysterical laughter. "Ohhhhh, no! I can't do that!" (Never before did I think my Midwestern self could laugh in the face of a government employee). "I'm headed out of town this week, too."
Clearly, I had confused GHL with my talk of multiple trips. "Give me your form."
She saw the forwarding address due to my recent move to the sublet across town. "But you just moved."
Me, exasperated: "Yes, I did. But now I'm moving again, this time out of the country."
And here's something that drives me absolutely nutso about New Yorkers. They dole out advice...no, excuse me, not advice...instructions to utter strangers about how they should lead their lives at the drop of a hat. "Maybe you just stay put for a while."
Thanks, Mom.
Me, eyes narrowed, as that aggressive New Yorker I'm trying not to be: "Look, I'm just trying to do the right thing. I don't want to get in any trouble. Just tell me what I need to do."
"Postpone."
Sigh.
Me: "Postpone til when? I'm moving out of the country and don't...know...when...I...will...be...back."
GHL: "How do I really know that you're moving? Do you have any pieces of mail to show this?"
My mouth falls open, I'm sure. Why would I have mail for a place I haven't moved to yet?
She goes on: "Postpone for six months."
Maniacal laughter from me ensues. Why is she torturing me so?
Me: "But here's the thing...I'm not gonna be back in six months. So then I get another summons delivered that I can't even respond to? Then what?"
GHL, in typical New York fashion of shrugging the shoulders while raising eyebrows: "If you're not here, you're not here."
Me: "So you're telling me to leave the country and not worry about any future notices that are sure to come my way?"
GHL, again: "If you're not here, what's anyone gonna do?"
Wow.
So I guess I've done my part as a law abiding citizen. Just wish I hadn't left feeling like I needed a blood pressure cuff on a Tuesday afternoon.
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