The Continuing Adventures of Asshole and Fatty

Mondays can be a real bitch. I came into work after being in the studio all day Sunday, I was out of the house from 9AM until 11PM. Upon checking my court calendar, which is pre-printed for me every week, it appeared that I didn’t have any matters to deal with. Monday is the only day that Mt. Olive Court is in session, and I usually have to wear a suit Mondays. So I started my day off with my usual routine of catching up on internet reading and doing bland paperwork. Then like the mighty magical unicorn, Fatty appeared out of nowhere. Hadn’t heard from him in months, and suddenly he is standing at the counter. As always, he was affable and easy to deal with. In fact his personality is the polar opposite of Asshole’s, and the only negative thing you can really say about him is that he’s fat, and sometimes he smells a little. He informed me that he got a notice addressed to his grandfather that he was due to appear in court today. We discussed the issue (a truck which was unregistered and not properly screened as per ordinance § 185-39B(6)[b]), and he agreed to cover the vehicle before court started at 3PM. Later on he called to tell me that Asshole was laughing at him from across the fence as he covered up the truck. You gotta be kidding me.
So now my free and clear afternoon turned into one small dismissal in court, for which I would have to put on the jacket and tie I keep in the office for occasions like this. No big deal, right?
At 3PM I walk over to the court side of the building, and it is a madhouse. There are people everywhere, and it just generally seems like things are going slower than usual. It is here that I find out that I also have two other matters scheduled for court today: A gas station that displayed a temporary sign for waaay too long, and a corporation that moved into a pre-existing building and then neglected to tell us about all the tenants when he was issued a permit telling him he couldn’t have any tenants under that permit. Fuck, man. Now I have to run back to my office, gather the appropriate files so I know what the fuck I’m talking about, and go back there to speak with each of them and work out some kind of deal.
The gas station owner had already spoken to a police officer who agreed to a minimum fine, but told him it was something like $250 dollars. I gave him a $100 fine, plus court costs. The corporation got the same, and we took care of Mr. Fatty. But to write it now doesn’t do the hours I spent in court justice.
Once I had spoken to everyone, we all went into the courtroom to await the judge to take the bench. Usually he is up there not too long after 3PM. By 4PM there was still no progress, and I found out that the judge is being substituted today. Goddamn. Every judge is different, and judges are publically elected officials who stay in one place for terms of 3-4 years at a time. So they have usually set up proceedings in a certain way, and for another judge to just pick up the gavel and go would be consummate with two people having the same fingerprints. It just doesn’t happen. So there was substantial delay just in the way this sub-judge (no offense) dealt with court matters, and it was excruciatingly painful to witness. Furthermore, the heat for the municipal building does not contain different zones, we all get the same air pumped into the offices, and with the warm spring afternoon we had it was also uncomfortably hot in my wool suit and longsleeves. I could feel the sweat dripping down my legs as I stood within one foot from at least five other people; one of them called Fatty. All the while wishing the normal Judge was around because when he sees that I’m ready he takes me right away, knowing that my matters are usually speedy, and that I don’t get paid for overtime if I’m stuck in the courtroom after business hours. In the end, I wound up sitting there until 5:45PM, a little over an hour after everyone else had gone home for the workday. I was hot, tired, stinky, and most of all, cranky. Luckily Anna had the baby sleep over her Nana’s house, so I didn’t have to worry about giving the baby a bath or any of the other things we do for her. But those kinds of Mondays can go fuck themselves.

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Author: jayholler

A technology lover living in California with my wife and two children.

1 thought on “The Continuing Adventures of Asshole and Fatty”

  1. buddy,

    it seems like you’re navigating the murky backwaters of our local judiciary system in good form! Just keep your head up & maybe purchase one of those battery-powered fans. 🙂

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