A New Thing

Lest I repeat myself overmuch, this is another rant about politeness and the courts. You may not wish to read further, having read it all before.


I, in my waiting, have been short of patience and filled with desire to fret. I took yesterday off so I would not chew the head off any small babies, yet heard nothing.

I came into work today…Let’s not call it angry, but I wasn’t exactly in my happy place.

The morning session started as such things do; with twelve people in the courtroom. Over time, the crowd is added to by late people. People who could not get their act together to arrive on time.

Perhaps as a symptom of my ADD, I detest being late. I spent my entire youth trying to cover for my lack of focus by showing up early in order to minimize the chance I might miss whatever appointment I have. I know this colors my opinion of folks who can’t be on time. I figure if you show up late, you should be sweaty and out of breath, having made every motherfucking effort possible to arrive on time. If you can’t do that, then at least try and attract as little attention as you can to your lateness as possible, ie sit down and shut the fuck up.

This morning, a frequent flier with the courts showed up late. She’s out of breath and reassembling her clothing from the search downstairs, so I am inclined to forgive a bit.

The out of breath frequent flier approaches me.

“Have a seat ma’am.”

“I am late.”

“I am quite aware of that, have a seat.”

“But, I’m late.”

I flounder for words, stunned by her tendency to exhibitionism. I mean, I would have been better prepared had she opened her shirt and showed me some skin. She might as well have said, “I am stupid. Look at my stupid. It’s my stupid. My stupid is special, see?”

The judge notices, tells her to sit. She does. Court resumes. A few people approach me, get told to sit.

Heedless of the stupidity of his question, an older man in khaki pants and blue button-down shirt approaches me and asks, “Can I ask a question?”

“Sir, if you are here for ten-thirty, you are early,” I begin to tell him.

He interrupts with something.

“Sir, court is in session, you can either have a seat and be silent-

He interrupts again.

“Sir, you need to stop and listen to what I am saying.”

He rolled his eyes. I am looking the man in the face, and he ROLLS HIS FUCKING EYES!

My Inner Gorilla went from napping to unconsciousness, having slammed itself against the bars so hard and fast that it was lights out.

For an adult male to roll his eyes at another adult male is childish. But for one who wants something from another to do it was…inconceivable. Literally. I had never, in my most fevered dreams of what might be acceptable in polite society, conceived of a sane adult male that might come to believe that rolling their eyes would actually do them a service. I know teens who act in a more adult fashion, even when dealing with the petty requirements of their parents.

Recovering my verbal faculties after a moment of stunned incredulousness. I told him to either leave or sit down.

He left.

A young man comes up on Eye-Roller’s heels.

My Gorilla, shaking off his sudden lack o consciousness, snarled, “What makes you think you are any different from that man, sir? Please have a seat.”

“I was late.”

OHCHRISTYOUPEOPLEAREALLSOFUCKINGSTUPID! My Gorilla whimpers, collapses on his ass, mired in the fecundity of the stupid that places such people in the world to poke me with their stupid.

“Have a seat.”

He turns his back, muttering imprecautions all the way to his place.

Eye-Roller returns. Stares.

FUCK YOU, I tell him with my eyes.

He leaves.

1030 rolls in and he returns, waits to appear before the clerk, and requests a continuance.

Looks like Eye-Roller will be back.

Hope he chokes on it.