Famous Last Words/Mildly Amusing Crises in Progress

by pjmcbride


Basement (Photo credit: howzey)

2! 2! 2 posts in one! What I meant to post last night, plus what I came up with for today. So no, you’re not really getting anything extra; it’s just my inefficient delivery system.


What should have got wrote yesterday, and wasn’t, because, well, because I wanted to listen to Bruce Springsteen played just a little too loud instead. I gotta develop better work habits.

It was 5 minutes before the end of the shift, and I received a call from a woman who thought there might be an intruder in her basement. The person relieving me had already arrived, and was standing beside me waiting for me to finish this call. The caller told me about how her basement has a separate door to the outside, and it sounded like someone was trying the doors to their storage units–it sounded like a pretty creepy basement to me. While I was thus engaged in visualizing their creepy basement, and the potential intruder therein, and also noting that it was now 3 minutes before the end of the shift, an officer called me on the radio–“2E34, need you to run a driver’s status.” (3rd shift always starts off  eager and needy.) “Stand by,” I told him on the air, took my foot off the pedal, and muttered, “And I’m about to go home, so screw it.” FORGETTING THAT, you guessed it, I WAS STILL ON THE PHONE. “Pardon me?” said the caller–not hostile, just genuinely perplexed, no doubt thinking, I couldn’t have just heard what I thought I heard. And I let her go on thinking that, too–I blithely continued asking questions as if nothing untoward had happened. Maybe I should have apologized, but I don’t know that “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to the officer calling me on the radio,” would have sounded much better, even if I’d explained, “He couldn’t hear me–it’s just between the two of us.” So rattled was I, that after finishing the call, I hurriedly signed out of the two million computer programs you need to sign out of before you can leave, and left, having never run that driver’s status, so sorry, Lori. So yes, I am tattling on myself, and I’m just glad there are no supervisors reading this–oh, there are? Oh, screw it.

But, as proof that this door swings both ways, the night before, I was city dispatch, and gave out updated location information on a run, and Officer Sarcastic responded with, “That would have been good information to have.” (You know, as in “…five minutes ago.”) I’m sure no one realized how devastating my ensuing silence was. Nick would have realized it–it would make his blood run cold to think of speaking to me that way on the air–but he is currently on leave, to bond with his new cub (and I advise being very cautious when approaching their den–avoid loud noises or sudden movements).


Sooo–I was off work today (and good thing, too, don’t you think?) and standing at the bus stop, and heard two women screaming curses at each other. “F*ck you! You’re a f*ckin’ bitch!” “Yeah? Well, f*ck you!” and several other such sentiments, mostly composed of variations on the word f*ck. Then a young woman hove into view, stomping along in the manner of the righteously indignant, with a baby in her arms wearing only a diaper, and a little girl holding her hand, dressed in a T-shirt and a diaper. The girl looked a little too old for diapers, but who am I to judge. Once they were out of sight, a slightly older woman came along, carrying a garbage bag of personal belongings, and asked me, “Did you see where that girl with two kids went?” “That way, ” I said, and then worried that I’d told the f*cking bitch where to go to start the f*cking fight back up again. Then a squad car pulled up to a house down the street, so I called 911 (“Calling Emergency Number,” my cell phone said, in case I hadn’t noticed) and told them where the whole cavalcade had gone, in case the officer was looking for trouble. So yes, in my own small way, I was Part of the Problem.

Then my bus arrived, and I had another adventure (2 in one day–I’m not cut out for this). It was a short bus (no snickering, please), and every seat was full. So I ended up situating myself behind the seats, where the wheelchairs tie up, so now I can say I spent a bus ride on my knees. When I got to my stop, I was able to jump up from my knees easily, which I’m sure has some deeper symbolic meaning that doesn’t bear further inspection. And on the way, saw another police car Doing Business with some driver, so Nick, the Wild West has gone out of control in your absence.