I just got home from four days of jury duty.

And while that phrase might conjure thoughts of thumb-twiddling and clock-watching, my experience was quite the opposite.

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The first morning was, in fact, quiet. Just some time to catch up on work.

But soon after, the pace and intensity shot up. Fast.

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The selection process moved swiftly, excusing people whose attendance would create hardship.

Then we were asked direct questions about personal prejudice, unconscious bias, and even our grasp of basic legal concepts and hypotheticals.

By noon on Day 2, I’d been seated on a jury and was hearing opening statements in a domestic violence trial.

By Day 3, the trial was all I could think about, even on breaks and overnight.

And today, after delivering a much-deliberated guilty verdict (the judge cleared us to share publicly), I’m still processing, and probably will be for some time...

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• The cross-section of my Seattle neighbors
• The spectrum of personal expression during selection
• The choreography and order required for a fair trial
• The quiet weight of asking a set of strangers to decide whether to revoke someone’s liberties.

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But for now, I’ll just share one interesting paradox that followed me through the week.

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When you first arrive, you couldn’t be more of a commodity.

The government pulls your name at random from a list.

They call you downtown by the dozens knowing they need warm bodies to fill a jury box or two.

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But once you’re in the courtroom, you’re no longer a warm body.

You are your unique lens.

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Indicate a personal history with a similar type of case?

You and your lens are thanked and excused.

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Express bad or good experiences with law enforcement?

You and your lens are thanked and excused.

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Say something that makes you seem rigid or extreme?

You and your lens are thanked and excused.

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All these qualifiers so that the judge and attorneys believe they have a set of, in this case, six jurors, each with an impartial lens through which to evaluate the case.

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Impartial, yes.

But identical? Not so fast.

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As the trial progressed, each of us were presented the exact same evidence and testimony during the trial.

But the result? We each had a unique take on the same incident.

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And only then, did the real work begin…

To help each other work through interpretation of our role and instructions as a jury.

To share with each other things we saw in a way that others didn’t.

To challenge each other’s thinking that, if processed only independently, might not hold.

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And finally, to converge on a decisive, unanimous verdict.

One that in hindsight appears cohesive, perhaps even obvious.

But that only came about through diligent, respectful alignment of six curated, yet still exceptionally unique lenses.

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All this to say, your lens is your inherent, perpetual asset.

On a jury. In your work. In life.

It’s already hyper-differentiated based on your experience.

And it comes with you everywhere you go.

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So the next time you’re feeling lost in the crowd, just remember…

You see things differently than literally every other person you meet.

And that’s not a flaw. That’s your value.

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💡

-Wes