Working 9 to 5
“Tumble out of bed and I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
And yawn and stretch and try to come to life
Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin’
Out on the street, the traffic starts jumpin’
With folks like me on the job from 9 to 5”
Do I really have to give attribution here? There is a ubiquitousness to this lyric that gives it the same pride of place in my brain as “to be or not to be”, the first few bars of Beethoven’s 5th, and my own name.
Dolly Parton did actually write this song—Googled it. Not that I suspected she wasn’t capable of such lyrics, but in an era when many hit songs are the product of 17 writers and include samples of/references to other songs, I just wanted to confirm. The words shine quite a light on popular sentiments of 20th century work life. A work life that we don’t really have post-Covid.
And I never had until this week.
(ASIDE: I’ve been avoiding this blog a bit because I have been feeling a bit repetitive, but then I had an insight. First, if one is writing a daily blog, there is going to be some overlap. It is hard to live a totally brand new experience every single day. And if I did live a totally brand new experience every single day I would likely be too exhausted and overwhelmed to write about it. Second, the narrative of my life has fallen somewhat out of order making it hard for me to write a sequential daily blog. And third, since the entire purpose of this blog and the Mercedonius series is really me writing for me & inviting the reader to come along vs me actually writing for a reader, I am allowed a bit of rewriting. I don’t revise each blog inside of itself—I revise the experience in the next blog. In other words, to correct and build off of what I have already written, I need to write what I wrote again.)
As I left my house this morning for my first full day of jury duty, I couldn’t help but feel like a real person.
I have never had a real 9 to 5 job. All my life I’ve worked in academics which has a, shall we say, more flexible schedule. Okay, I did have a office-ish job for a couple of years right out of undergrad, but I was too young and too naïve/idealistic to see it as anything but a phase, so the prospect of working a regular job for a week seemed like a novelty…or perhaps even a little like magic?
Almost a vacation.
It’s the last week of the semester. Finals week. I set my classes up to finish themselves with a combination of online assignments and evening Zoom office hours. Students had their marching orders, and I had mine. It would be an unprecedented end to the semester, but, if you will recall, we’ve done unprecedented before.
This morning, I did exactly what Dolly told me to do. I got up, had a stretch, took a shower, and got some coffee. At 7:30, I walked out the door and headed out, on foot, to the train. I stopped at the Starbucks and filled up my go cup with more coffee. About 30 minutes later, I found myself downtown filing off the Blue line “L” train with all the other working slubs, heading through security, and arriving at the courtroom with plenty of time to sit and write before court was in session.
While all the other jurors bemoaned their fate, I thrilled at my adventure.
Why?
Yes, jury duty is novel for me. But it’s novel for everyone on the jury, right? What makes this experience mundane for them and magic for me?
Regularity. Having a 9 to 5 job each day alieveates decision fatigue. I know exactly where I need to be and when I need to be there every day. I don’t have to figure out what I am doing each day or double-check where I am supposed to be. The outline of my work day is already drawn for me.
Visibility. There are days at school when I believe that if I did not show up the only person who would know is me. Sure, my students would probably notice that I was not in the classroom, but I’m not sure how much they would care. When I am on campus, I rarely see any of my fellow professors—they are likely in their classrooms at the same time I am, but who knows? And the administration is barely allowed to even ask about me.
Significance. My behavior and attention impacts the lives and livelihoods of multiple people in the courtroom. If I disregard the rules, I will be held accountable. If I don’t pay attention or fail to keep an open mind, I will let down the other jurors, the judge, the people involved in bringing and defending the case, and the whole tradition of the jury system.
Boundaries. Probably the most important aspect of jury duty is keeping the experience of the courtroom in the courtroom. Any notes I take cannot come home with me, I am not allowed to research the case at home, or I’m prohibited from discussing the case with anyone—even other jurors until deliberation. My jury experience is completely contained.
When jury duty is over, what will regularity, visibility, significance, and boundaries tell me about a 9 to 5, 24/7, 168, 52, and 365 ways to make a living?
