The Enemy of Everyone, To Be Considered Sarcastic and Dangerous

by pjmcbride

English: My hazel eyes

English: My hazel eyes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

How about that ornate title? I quite like it. Of course, I’m determined to be a flat-out failure where writing is concerned, but my motto here is, “It’s not your job, don’t deal with it.”

And you gotta love a job where you answer the phone, and the first thing she says is, “Are you gonna help me, or do I hafta file charges on you?” It occurred to me that filing charges on myself would make for an interesting run card: “Be on the lookout for a white female, brown hair and hazel eyes, cobra tattoo on left forearm, wearing glasses, blue top, black pants. Alert: has been known to make hostile remarks toward police officers.” Suppressing the immediate urge to hang up on her (now there’s a different kind of 911 hangup), I inquired about the nature of her problem. She was being held against her will at the hospital. Turns out that this was because she had warrants in an adjoining county. Now, I believe that being held against your will is the very essence of being arrested. I’ve never been arrested myself, but I believe that’s how it works. (“I could demonstrate it for you,” says Nick, with seeming nonchalance.) (For the record, the closest I’ve come to having a Run-In with the Law was the current Sgt. but then Officer W.W. yelling, “I should write you a ticket!” as I sauntered in front of his squad car in the middle of the block once. I guess that counts as a verbal warning. {You know, it’s starting to sound like I jaywalk all the time, particularly in front of the police.} Said W.W. also, when Dispatch was downtown, stopped by the Radio window and asked me to make a phone call for him, when I was already on the phone to someone else. I silently handed him the phone book, and he yelled, “You’re supposed to be a support service!” and stormed off down the hall. And he should know, because he started out as a dispatcher. One of the radio speakers downtown had a dent in it where he’d lost his temper once and punched it. Or so I was told–that was before my time. {I actually got along pretty well with W.W., in spite of these occasional spats.} Is there a pattern of emotional immaturity among officers who used to be dispatchers?)

Speaking of which, note to self: When working city dispatch, be sure to keep Nick out of the rain, or his finish will corrode.

–Just remember: If you need help, call 911, “…and please yell at me while I’m trying to solve your problems.”–the Tragically-Hip One

Happy belated birthday wishes to L.L. (I actually wished her a happy birthday in a timely manner, but it’s belated here.) I’m guessing it was the coolest birthday (temperature-wise) you’ve ever experienced.