Jury duty gets such a bad rap.

Which, truth be told, I do not understand.

Most people are more than willing to pass judgement on someone in social situations, or say, at the corner of South Airport and Garfield at 5:15 p.m. on a Friday.

Why not do it for gas money, a free lunch and a front row seat to the justice system?

Yet I’ve seen, with my own eyes, friends and family members slump in disappointment and shake their fist at the gods after finding a jury questionnaire in their mailbox.

And I’ve heard, with my own ears, the excuse strategizing.

From, “Guess it’s time to schedule that bunion surgery,” to, “Hello, FEMA? When’s your next disaster training?” people I know and tolerate will do just about anything to get out of jury duty.

All I can say is, pick me.

As someone who has covered trials for the Record-Eagle, read pillar-sized stacks of trial transcripts for book research, along with court records that include notes from juries to judges, I’m here to tell you, by shirking your duty you’re really missing out.

The star of the courtroom is not the out-of-town defense attorney in the $1,000 suit and heels straight out of Vogue.

Nor is it the prosecutor, even though she, or he, knows all the county’s secrets.

It’s definitely not the newspaper reporter, who filed paperwork seeking permission to use her phone to take photos and record testimony a day late, so she’s going old school — i.e. notebook, pen.

And, no matter how much they might act like it, the star of the courtroom isn’t even the judge.

In Hollywood, actors aren’t called stars, they’re called “the talent.”

As in, Jerry Orbach, who played NYPD Detective Lennie Briscoe, was “the talent” on Law & Order for 11 seasons.

Jurors are the talent.

Prosecutors need them, defense attorneys charm them and judges take care of them.

Just this week, for example, I listened as 13th Circuit Court Judge Thomas Power, told an out-of-town attorney, he’d better come up with the right answer, or there’d be sanctions.

A few minutes later, the same judge told the jury he thought the trial should break for lunch a few minutes before noon, so their food, which was set to arrive momentarily, wouldn’t get cold.

True confessions: I’ve never served on a jury.

I did make it to voir dire once — that’s when attorneys, the prosecutor and sometimes the judge, ask questions of potential jurors, to see if they can hack being impartial.

This was back in the 1990s and alas, I was excused by the defense.

The defendant was arrested on child abuse charges and there I was, waddling up to the jury box in a maternity get up. I was, I’ll admit, quite literally, cloaked in bias.

I do have hope. Grand Traverse County sent me a questionnaire two years ago which I filled out and sent back the same day.

My sources tell me, the county keeps those for three years so you never know.

Fingers crossed. And not behind my back, either.