
When people think of court reporters, they often imagine eagle-eyed professionals sitting silently in the courtroom, capturing every word with robotic precision and hyper-focus. What they don’t imagine is that, while fingers are flying across the keys, the court reporter is mentally meal-prepping, wondering what their dog is doing at home, or trying to remember if they sent that text they meant to send earlier. But here’s the truth: we court reporters are human. Highly trained professionals, yes—but still, human.
There’s a kind of magic in what we do. We’re expected to produce a flawless record of everything said, often in chaotic, emotionally-charged, or technically dense environments. And we do—day in and day out. But while the outside world thinks we’re hanging on every word, the reality is much more complex. So, what are court reporters really thinking while we’re on the record?
The Myth of Constant Focus
Let’s set the record straight: we’re not always fully mentally present during every moment of testimony. That might shock attorneys, judges, and the occasional juror, but it’s the honest truth. Our hands are tracking every word, every cough, every stammer—and it’s all there. But our brains? Sometimes, they’re miles away.
There’s a reason for that. Stenographic reporting is, in many ways, muscle memory and reflex. It’s like a musician playing a song they’ve practiced for years; their hands know what to do. Similarly, our fingers know the rhythm and flow of speech, and often, they take over while our minds drift. In fact, it’s sometimes easier to perform well without being emotionally or mentally involved in the testimony. Being too focused can actually trip us up—especially when content is difficult, fast-paced, or emotionally charged.
Testimony vs. Tacos & The Wandering Mind
So where do our minds go? Everywhere.
One moment we’re in a deposition, the next we’re building a grocery list: “Eggs, spinach, oat milk…” Someone says something mildly amusing and suddenly we’re thinking about that one text we forgot to send or the friend we haven’t called back. Sometimes it’s as mundane as wondering whether our dog misses us or how our kid’s day is going. Other times we’re silently fuming over the pace of a fast talker, mentally begging them to slow down so we can catch up without sweating.
And still, the record is pristine. We capture it. We always do.
One of the best indicators that we’ve mentally checked out is the classic “Can you read that back?” moment. If you’ve never had your heart drop into your stomach when someone says that—while you realize you have no memory of what was just said—you’re not really a court reporter. But here’s the kicker: when we go back and read it, it’s there. Clean, accurate, perfect. It’s one of the bizarre superpowers of this job: we can type without thinking, and the record is still there.
So, Do You Have an Opinion?
Ah, the dreaded question from attorneys: “What do you think?” or “How do you think that went?”
We get it often. Sometimes it’s innocent curiosity. Other times, it’s strategic fishing. But here’s our line—and most of us stick to it: We don’t give opinions.
Ethically, we can’t. And practically? We’re just not paying enough attention to have a meaningful opinion. Not because we’re negligent, but because our job is not to analyze. It’s to capture. And trust me, there’s a huge difference.
Some of us have learned the hard way. One court reporter shared that they knew someone who got burned because an attorney asked a casual opinion, and that tiny comment turned into a credibility issue later. Since then, many of us have adopted a firm stance: “I wasn’t listening,” or “I don’t pay attention to what’s said, only how fast it’s said.”
Sometimes we break the tension with humor: “I was thinking about dinner,” or “Honestly, I was planning my weekend.” It throws attorneys off at first, but it’s true—and it’s safer that way. Even when we do have opinions (and let’s be real, we do), it’s better to keep them to ourselves. Because opinions can entangle us in ways we don’t want to be entangled.
When We Are Fully Present
Of course, there are times when we’re 100% dialed in. Fast talkers. Difficult accents. Expert testimony on subjects like medicine or engineering that make our heads spin. Those moments demand our attention—no drifting allowed. We’re fully engaged, hanging on every syllable, praying we don’t drop a word.
Interpreted depositions are another beast altogether. Many reporters say their minds wander more during those because of the repetition—it’s easy to mentally check out during the interpreted back-and-forth. Some even admit to checking emails or texts in the background (yes, really), though that’s obviously a personal line every reporter navigates differently.
And then there’s humor. Say something funny in the room and suddenly, we’re there with you. Our ears perk up. We’ll remember that joke for days.
The Irony of Inattention
It still amazes many of us how well we do our jobs even when our minds are elsewhere. It’s a surreal feeling to realize you haven’t processed what was said in the last 30 minutes, but you know it’s all right there in the transcript. There’s a deep trust we develop in our training, our skillset, and our shorthand brain-finger connection.
Some of us even know reporters who play solitaire during civil trials. Shocking? Maybe. But the record? Flawless. That’s the reality of a job where muscle memory meets multitasking.
Final Thoughts
What are court reporters really thinking when we’re on the record? Sometimes we’re deeply focused. Sometimes we’re building a grocery list or wondering if our dog is lonely. But always, we’re doing our jobs—and doing them well.
When attorneys ask us for opinions, the best response is usually, “I wasn’t listening,” or “You talked fast, but you made my job easy.” It’s the safest, truest thing we can say. Because at the end of the day, we’re not participants—we’re observers. And sometimes not even that. We’re the silent keepers of the record, working behind the scenes with fingers flying and minds wandering, capturing everything and judging nothing.
And honestly? It’s kind of amazing what we can do.