100 words on having jury duty on Monday

I have been called for service only once before: twenty-one and freshly graduated, suffering the singular humilty of spending a Louisiana summer in an un-air-conditioned car, interviewing for jobs in my one suit. $25 a day to administer justice? "Fuckin' A right, I want jury duty!" I responded to the universe. It was like the promise that three squares and a bunk has for the lost soul en route to prison. Three weeks later, on the eve of my first career job, writing computer reports in a language already antiquated in 1991, I got my notice that I'd been excused.