I have previously listed emsfun.blogspot.com as a very enjoyable read...
The Happy Medic (the illustrious author) has changed the address to yourhappymedic.blogspot.com.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Lame defenses...
I hear a lot of 'em, believe me. Some are lamer than others, but here are a couple that always confound me...
"I was going with the flow of traffic." Remember when you were a kid and you'd tell mom and/or dad, "Everyone else is doing it!" Whatever 'it' may be. Their inevitable response was something to the effect of, "If everyone else jumped off a bridge or (insert stupid act here), would you?"
Guess what kids...same theory applies here. If everyone else on the road is driving at 15 mph over the limit and I happen to stop you. You're just the unlucky assclown I picked. Life sucks, karma's a bitch, whatever adage you want to apply, it's all the same. Doesn't change the fact that you were breaking the law. So, telling me you were driving with the flow of traffic is a)Retarded...what are you 12? and, more importantly legal-wise, b) not a legal defense.
"I can't get another ticket!" One of my all time favorites. When I hear someone say that, I actually hear, "I'm a moron and I obviously haven't learned my lesson. Please, please, Officer, write me another ticket so maybe, just maybe, it'll get through my thick ass head I should probably pay attention to what the hell I'm doing. Oh, and by the way, I'm also the same person that repeatedly hits my thumb with a hammer and wonders why it fucking hurts." Whenever I hear this one, I always request a driving history check through dispatch just out of morbid curiousity to see exactly how many moving violations the driver has. More often than not, they have many and my smile is extra big when they're signing the cite.
"I was going with the flow of traffic." Remember when you were a kid and you'd tell mom and/or dad, "Everyone else is doing it!" Whatever 'it' may be. Their inevitable response was something to the effect of, "If everyone else jumped off a bridge or (insert stupid act here), would you?"
Guess what kids...same theory applies here. If everyone else on the road is driving at 15 mph over the limit and I happen to stop you. You're just the unlucky assclown I picked. Life sucks, karma's a bitch, whatever adage you want to apply, it's all the same. Doesn't change the fact that you were breaking the law. So, telling me you were driving with the flow of traffic is a)Retarded...what are you 12? and, more importantly legal-wise, b) not a legal defense.
"I can't get another ticket!" One of my all time favorites. When I hear someone say that, I actually hear, "I'm a moron and I obviously haven't learned my lesson. Please, please, Officer, write me another ticket so maybe, just maybe, it'll get through my thick ass head I should probably pay attention to what the hell I'm doing. Oh, and by the way, I'm also the same person that repeatedly hits my thumb with a hammer and wonders why it fucking hurts." Whenever I hear this one, I always request a driving history check through dispatch just out of morbid curiousity to see exactly how many moving violations the driver has. More often than not, they have many and my smile is extra big when they're signing the cite.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Not all of them are A-holes....
In this, the Christmas season, I am reminded of an incident from a couple weeks ago...
More often than not, I am greeted with either indifference or downright animosity whilst I am rolling on around on my little motor scooter. On this particular day, however, I was sitting on a stop sign in a car (inclement weather). Out of nowhere, a random neighbor came out of his house to say hello. He walked up to the window and, I must admit, I thought to myself, "Here we go".
I rolled down the window expecting the worst. The random guy said, "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" I politely declined, but let him know how much I appreciated the offer.
Thank you, random neighbor guy, for reinstilling my faith in humanity (at least some of them).
More often than not, I am greeted with either indifference or downright animosity whilst I am rolling on around on my little motor scooter. On this particular day, however, I was sitting on a stop sign in a car (inclement weather). Out of nowhere, a random neighbor came out of his house to say hello. He walked up to the window and, I must admit, I thought to myself, "Here we go".
I rolled down the window expecting the worst. The random guy said, "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" I politely declined, but let him know how much I appreciated the offer.
Thank you, random neighbor guy, for reinstilling my faith in humanity (at least some of them).
I can't believe you're doing this to me on Christmas Eve.
I thought about merely titling this post as I did and simply having the body read "Believe it". But, I'm much to verbose for that!
Here's the thing, everyone. I know what day it is. I know what day it isn't. It ain't Christmas. That's tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be of good cheer. I won't be at home with my family. I'll be here. At work. Merry Christmas. Today, though. Today, if I see you doing some stupid, dangerous shit, guess what....ticket time! Hoorah!
Case in point, I'm heading back to the PD to talk my partner into a cup of coffee (a time honored tradition) when I see two cars traveling the opposite direction. Traffic is light, but it's raining and the roads are, consequently, wet. The cars are driving around 25 to 30 MPH (that's between 36 and 44 feet per second). The second car is, at best, 15 to 20 feet behind the car in front. Dangerous in July when the sun is beating down. Even more so in December. In the rain. It takes the average, aware driver 1.5 seconds to perceive and react to outside stimulus...say, the driver in front slamming on the brakes. In 1.5 seconds at 25 to 30 MPH, the vehicle will travel between 54 and 66 feet. That's just for the second car's driver to see and react to what happens in front of him, not to mention stopping time, etc. Now, if my math holds up and the laws of physics are accurate (and, just for shits and giggles, let's assume they are) If the second car is 15 to 20 feet behind the front car, there's no way he can successfully avoid a collision should the driver in front do something stupid.
So, being the vigilant officer, I stop the second car. Now, he doesn't have an overtly bad attitude, but I can see it just under the skin. He knows he's getting a ticket. I politely explain the violation and the inherent danger within. His reponse? Refer to the title of this post. My response, "I wasn't aware traffic collisions weren't allowed on Christmas Eve."
The Grinch? He's my bitch.
Here's the thing, everyone. I know what day it is. I know what day it isn't. It ain't Christmas. That's tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be of good cheer. I won't be at home with my family. I'll be here. At work. Merry Christmas. Today, though. Today, if I see you doing some stupid, dangerous shit, guess what....ticket time! Hoorah!
Case in point, I'm heading back to the PD to talk my partner into a cup of coffee (a time honored tradition) when I see two cars traveling the opposite direction. Traffic is light, but it's raining and the roads are, consequently, wet. The cars are driving around 25 to 30 MPH (that's between 36 and 44 feet per second). The second car is, at best, 15 to 20 feet behind the car in front. Dangerous in July when the sun is beating down. Even more so in December. In the rain. It takes the average, aware driver 1.5 seconds to perceive and react to outside stimulus...say, the driver in front slamming on the brakes. In 1.5 seconds at 25 to 30 MPH, the vehicle will travel between 54 and 66 feet. That's just for the second car's driver to see and react to what happens in front of him, not to mention stopping time, etc. Now, if my math holds up and the laws of physics are accurate (and, just for shits and giggles, let's assume they are) If the second car is 15 to 20 feet behind the front car, there's no way he can successfully avoid a collision should the driver in front do something stupid.
So, being the vigilant officer, I stop the second car. Now, he doesn't have an overtly bad attitude, but I can see it just under the skin. He knows he's getting a ticket. I politely explain the violation and the inherent danger within. His reponse? Refer to the title of this post. My response, "I wasn't aware traffic collisions weren't allowed on Christmas Eve."
The Grinch? He's my bitch.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
New Toy!!!
I have been told the new Motors are due in about five weeks...add untold days/weeks to be outfitted and approved, red tape, red tape, red tape...and we'll have 'em soon!
Can't wait!!! The picture at the upper right corner is similar to what we'll have (different color scheme, though...mostly black (like my soul...haha)).
Can't wait!!! The picture at the upper right corner is similar to what we'll have (different color scheme, though...mostly black (like my soul...haha)).
Who doesn't know the yield to the right requirement?
As it turns out, more folks than you'd think. Today alone, I've had one person immediately pull into the left turn lane, make the turn, make another left, then a right and then stop. Her reason? "I wanted to make sure I wasn't blocking traffic."
My response? "No problem, but for future reference, you are required to yield to the right when the lites and sirens come on." What I wanted to say? "I don't give a good goddamn (note the use of the lower case 'g') what you thought you were doing. When you sign for your license, you are agreeing to abide by the CVC and all it entails. You know what's included in that tome, you moron? YIELD TO THE RIGHT!!! It's not up to you. Any deviation from that sends up red flags to us law enforcement types. Yes, I realize you are most likely harmless and a soccer mom, but check it out...my fucking x-ray vision and mind-reading abilities have been acting up lately, so you'll excuse me if I get perturbed when you don't do what you are legally required to."
After that, I saw my second idiot of the day yammering away on his cell phone. I get behind him, hit the lites, and close distance. He stands on his brakes. If I wasn't paying attention, I'm in his backseat. Not good, and ultimately I would have been at least partially responsible for the collision. Luckily, I didn't have my head in a dark and smelly locale, so I swerved to the right and yelled at him instead. All he had to do was drive literally another 50' or so where there was plenty of room to stop. Did he? Nope. Just stopped in the middle of the fuckin' street. Seriously? Oh, and his excuse for the phone? "My wife called, we're going to be late for a flight."
Guess who was even later...
My response? "No problem, but for future reference, you are required to yield to the right when the lites and sirens come on." What I wanted to say? "I don't give a good goddamn (note the use of the lower case 'g') what you thought you were doing. When you sign for your license, you are agreeing to abide by the CVC and all it entails. You know what's included in that tome, you moron? YIELD TO THE RIGHT!!! It's not up to you. Any deviation from that sends up red flags to us law enforcement types. Yes, I realize you are most likely harmless and a soccer mom, but check it out...my fucking x-ray vision and mind-reading abilities have been acting up lately, so you'll excuse me if I get perturbed when you don't do what you are legally required to."
After that, I saw my second idiot of the day yammering away on his cell phone. I get behind him, hit the lites, and close distance. He stands on his brakes. If I wasn't paying attention, I'm in his backseat. Not good, and ultimately I would have been at least partially responsible for the collision. Luckily, I didn't have my head in a dark and smelly locale, so I swerved to the right and yelled at him instead. All he had to do was drive literally another 50' or so where there was plenty of room to stop. Did he? Nope. Just stopped in the middle of the fuckin' street. Seriously? Oh, and his excuse for the phone? "My wife called, we're going to be late for a flight."
Guess who was even later...
Addendum
Apparently, I had one thing in my head, but another came out on the "You think you're funny" post. No one has been misusing 911...but I appreciate the immediate suggestions on what to do to them!
What I meant to say was merely giving an example of a random event (misdialed accidentally or even when I walk in to the local coffee house). In those kinds of innocuous occassions, some chucklehead will shout across the room to a co-worker, family member, random person and utter the overdone joke, "They're here for you..."
My humble apologies for the misrepresentation...carry on.
What I meant to say was merely giving an example of a random event (misdialed accidentally or even when I walk in to the local coffee house). In those kinds of innocuous occassions, some chucklehead will shout across the room to a co-worker, family member, random person and utter the overdone joke, "They're here for you..."
My humble apologies for the misrepresentation...carry on.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
I bet you think you're funny and original
Alas, you are not. Allow me to explain...
I can't count the number of times I've responded to a business or home for some random 911 call or other nonsense where nothing actually happened or the phone was misdialed. More frequently than I'd like to have happen, there is inevitably some clever SOB who looks at some co-worker, family member, derelict, whatever and the SOB says, "Oh (insert name here), they're here for you." Hyuk, yuk, yuk.
Hey. Dumbass. I'm not there for (insert name here). And, what's more, your 'joke' is fucking lame and old and I've heard it a zillion times before.
So, here is my solution I plan on implementing the very next time it happens. Actually, there's a couple solutions:
1. I'm going to have the serious 'cop look' on my face, look at (insert name here) and dead pan-ly (real word?) say "He/She is right. Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Then I'm going to take my cuffs out. They will all chuckle. Then I will use the 'cop voice' and say, "HEY! Do I look like I'm kidding. I said turn around." Just enough to make them all wonder if I'm serious. Then, I just might turn to the original jokester and let him/her know just how funny their stupid joke is.
2. (And much more likely solution) I'm going to tell the jokester, "Actually, I'm not here for (insert name here)...I'm here for you. You've got a warrant. Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Then, I will pretty much continue the above scenario.
I've got to have some kind of solution to end the ridiculousness that is that stupid joke.
I can't count the number of times I've responded to a business or home for some random 911 call or other nonsense where nothing actually happened or the phone was misdialed. More frequently than I'd like to have happen, there is inevitably some clever SOB who looks at some co-worker, family member, derelict, whatever and the SOB says, "Oh (insert name here), they're here for you." Hyuk, yuk, yuk.
Hey. Dumbass. I'm not there for (insert name here). And, what's more, your 'joke' is fucking lame and old and I've heard it a zillion times before.
So, here is my solution I plan on implementing the very next time it happens. Actually, there's a couple solutions:
1. I'm going to have the serious 'cop look' on my face, look at (insert name here) and dead pan-ly (real word?) say "He/She is right. Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Then I'm going to take my cuffs out. They will all chuckle. Then I will use the 'cop voice' and say, "HEY! Do I look like I'm kidding. I said turn around." Just enough to make them all wonder if I'm serious. Then, I just might turn to the original jokester and let him/her know just how funny their stupid joke is.
2. (And much more likely solution) I'm going to tell the jokester, "Actually, I'm not here for (insert name here)...I'm here for you. You've got a warrant. Turn around and put your hands behind your back." Then, I will pretty much continue the above scenario.
I've got to have some kind of solution to end the ridiculousness that is that stupid joke.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sympathy..do you know where to find it?
I got a phone call this morning from a fellow Motor who imparted a very amusing little tale. Please to enjoy our first guest lecturer...
Two motors responded to a private parking lot collision. Apparently, the driver least at fault was a righteous bitch that was making the at fault driver cry her eyes out. This was a very slow speed, minimal damage (if any, more on that in a sec) type collision. We typically don't even take private property collisions since the CVC isn't enforced on private property.
At any rate, the Motors were having a bit of trouble finding damage on the 'victim' vehicle. The irate, bitchy driver proceeds to kick her passenger side door. Supposedly to assist the Motors in locating the damage. Oh, you've damaged it more than it was? Oh, you're a crazy bitch? Sweet.
Long story short, the poor at-fault driver is very upset and the Motors were trying to help her calm down. The irate driver said, "Why is she getting all the sympathy? Don't you know what sympathy means?"
My brother Motor (and he'll forgive me if I screw up the quote...and if so, please comment and I'll fix the post) said something similar to, "Sympathy? Oh yes, it's in Webster's dictionary right between 'Shit' and 'Syphilis'."
Brilliant. I only wish I had the stones to say something like that. Sometimes saying things like that are totally worth whatever disciplinary action comes your way. My Dad always said, "Some people don't know they're stupid and we are simply providing a public service letting them know they are, in fact, stupid."
Gospels of truth on so many fronts.
Two motors responded to a private parking lot collision. Apparently, the driver least at fault was a righteous bitch that was making the at fault driver cry her eyes out. This was a very slow speed, minimal damage (if any, more on that in a sec) type collision. We typically don't even take private property collisions since the CVC isn't enforced on private property.
At any rate, the Motors were having a bit of trouble finding damage on the 'victim' vehicle. The irate, bitchy driver proceeds to kick her passenger side door. Supposedly to assist the Motors in locating the damage. Oh, you've damaged it more than it was? Oh, you're a crazy bitch? Sweet.
Long story short, the poor at-fault driver is very upset and the Motors were trying to help her calm down. The irate driver said, "Why is she getting all the sympathy? Don't you know what sympathy means?"
My brother Motor (and he'll forgive me if I screw up the quote...and if so, please comment and I'll fix the post) said something similar to, "Sympathy? Oh yes, it's in Webster's dictionary right between 'Shit' and 'Syphilis'."
Brilliant. I only wish I had the stones to say something like that. Sometimes saying things like that are totally worth whatever disciplinary action comes your way. My Dad always said, "Some people don't know they're stupid and we are simply providing a public service letting them know they are, in fact, stupid."
Gospels of truth on so many fronts.
Happy Medic won't be pleased with the following rant...
It's been one of those weeks in the Town and I literally have a list of different topics to cover. This one, however, was towards the end of the day on my Friday, so it's freshest in my mind. And with that, and a preemptive request for forgiveness from Happy Medic, my self-proclaimed "Brother from another Mother", I give you the following rant....
I've previously established my familial history in the Fire Service. I've a long standing love and respect for those brave souls who run into burning buildings (nutjobs) and save lives (Heroes). Today, however, I take serious issue with the policies of our Town's Fire Dept.
I happened to be covering a beat today since someone was on vacation. No problem, it's been hovering around 35 damn degrees all week, so I'm not gonna bitch about a heater and my iPod. Round about 1400 hours, I get dispatched to a call on our main thoroughfare. It's a medpd call (Medical enroute, police requested to respond) for an elderly man sitting in his car in front of a business. The man isn't moving. It doesn't look like he's breathing. No problem, I'm 49 (enroute), along with two or three other cops.
I'm about a mile or so away when Dispatch advises Fire is enroute, but they're going to stage for PD response. What is staging, you ask? Typically, staging is when Fire will wait until PD arrives and makes sure there's no impending violence (Reader's Digest definition). For example, ADW (assault with a deadly weapon) or a DV (domestic violence), anything involving firearms, weapons, etc. I get that. They don't have guns or pepper spray or asps. (Although typically they're all much fucking bigger than most cops...they get paid to work out on duty (which I think is awesome, by the way)).
Here's the thing though...we're talking about an old man, possibly dead, in his goddamn car. Seriously? You're gonna stage? Give me a fucking brake, you pussies. I don't care what your fucking policy says. This is a straight up medical call. The only reason PD goes to shit like this is in case the coroner needs to be notified (the coroner is a division of the local Sheriff's Office).
So, what I'm hearing between the words of my dispatcher advising me they will be staging is that they are either too scared to show up and do their fucking job or...shit, can't think of the 'or' in this situation.
My response to my dispatcher, over the air mind you, was "Confirming Fire is going to be staging for a possible 10-55 (dead body)?" To wit, dispatch responded, "I can call them back and have them go in." Go in? It's on the fucking street in broad goddamn daylight. Where the fuck are they 'going in' to? I told dispatch, "Yeah, why don't we do that since this is an obvious medical call."
This isn't the first time this has happened either. I've been dispatched before to "man down" calls where they staged. These are obvious medical calls where people who are possibly seriously injured need medical attention. Kids, I have basic (and I mean fucking b-a-s-i-c) first aid skills. I don't have the cool whizbang tools Fire does. How about you come in and do your job!
I'm all about the good natured ribbing Fire and PD give one another. At the end of the day, we're all on the same side. More often than not, I'm one of the first to defend Fire because of my background. But sometimes they make it really damn hard.
Ok...on to the stupid citizen that reported this little incident. I arrived on scene and there was indeed a definitely elderly man in the driver's seat of his car. His head is leaned back and his mouth is open. Bitch looked dead as Ceasar. I went over to the driver's side window and knocked on the window. The result was me scaring the shit out of the nice sleeping old dude. Fucker ain't dead? Nope.
I canceled all the incoming units. (Fire went back to the house to finish their XBOX tourney or some such thing). I apologized to the nice old man who said he was tired and decided to get off the road (like an actual smart guy). As I'm walking back to my car, I see the dipshit PR (person reporting). He walked out of his business (75' or so away) and said...I swear to God..."I'm glad he's alright. I didn't want to knock on his window." Holy shit, you fucking coward. This poor old bastard is possibly sucking what, in your mind, could be his last breath and you didn't want to knock on his window? Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is wrong with you? Merry Christmas, ya douche.
I've previously established my familial history in the Fire Service. I've a long standing love and respect for those brave souls who run into burning buildings (nutjobs) and save lives (Heroes). Today, however, I take serious issue with the policies of our Town's Fire Dept.
I happened to be covering a beat today since someone was on vacation. No problem, it's been hovering around 35 damn degrees all week, so I'm not gonna bitch about a heater and my iPod. Round about 1400 hours, I get dispatched to a call on our main thoroughfare. It's a medpd call (Medical enroute, police requested to respond) for an elderly man sitting in his car in front of a business. The man isn't moving. It doesn't look like he's breathing. No problem, I'm 49 (enroute), along with two or three other cops.
I'm about a mile or so away when Dispatch advises Fire is enroute, but they're going to stage for PD response. What is staging, you ask? Typically, staging is when Fire will wait until PD arrives and makes sure there's no impending violence (Reader's Digest definition). For example, ADW (assault with a deadly weapon) or a DV (domestic violence), anything involving firearms, weapons, etc. I get that. They don't have guns or pepper spray or asps. (Although typically they're all much fucking bigger than most cops...they get paid to work out on duty (which I think is awesome, by the way)).
Here's the thing though...we're talking about an old man, possibly dead, in his goddamn car. Seriously? You're gonna stage? Give me a fucking brake, you pussies. I don't care what your fucking policy says. This is a straight up medical call. The only reason PD goes to shit like this is in case the coroner needs to be notified (the coroner is a division of the local Sheriff's Office).
So, what I'm hearing between the words of my dispatcher advising me they will be staging is that they are either too scared to show up and do their fucking job or...shit, can't think of the 'or' in this situation.
My response to my dispatcher, over the air mind you, was "Confirming Fire is going to be staging for a possible 10-55 (dead body)?" To wit, dispatch responded, "I can call them back and have them go in." Go in? It's on the fucking street in broad goddamn daylight. Where the fuck are they 'going in' to? I told dispatch, "Yeah, why don't we do that since this is an obvious medical call."
This isn't the first time this has happened either. I've been dispatched before to "man down" calls where they staged. These are obvious medical calls where people who are possibly seriously injured need medical attention. Kids, I have basic (and I mean fucking b-a-s-i-c) first aid skills. I don't have the cool whizbang tools Fire does. How about you come in and do your job!
I'm all about the good natured ribbing Fire and PD give one another. At the end of the day, we're all on the same side. More often than not, I'm one of the first to defend Fire because of my background. But sometimes they make it really damn hard.
Ok...on to the stupid citizen that reported this little incident. I arrived on scene and there was indeed a definitely elderly man in the driver's seat of his car. His head is leaned back and his mouth is open. Bitch looked dead as Ceasar. I went over to the driver's side window and knocked on the window. The result was me scaring the shit out of the nice sleeping old dude. Fucker ain't dead? Nope.
I canceled all the incoming units. (Fire went back to the house to finish their XBOX tourney or some such thing). I apologized to the nice old man who said he was tired and decided to get off the road (like an actual smart guy). As I'm walking back to my car, I see the dipshit PR (person reporting). He walked out of his business (75' or so away) and said...I swear to God..."I'm glad he's alright. I didn't want to knock on his window." Holy shit, you fucking coward. This poor old bastard is possibly sucking what, in your mind, could be his last breath and you didn't want to knock on his window? Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is wrong with you? Merry Christmas, ya douche.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
A frightening realization...
What the fuck do you mean more than like five people read this bullshit...
Ok, so I'm aware that the Wife and a handful of family/friends/associates (No, I will not tell you in which category you are) read this blog. Apparently, though, there are a number of other people that read this 21st century diary of sorts...and I had no clue. I've gotta try like hell not to adjust my, shall we say, colorful way of expressing myself since I've come to know there are more than a handful of you reading. What's that? Oh, I already used 'fuck'? Whew...my reputation remains intact and my fragile psyche won't suffer any permanent damage.
I had two surprising comments on the 'ol blog the past couple of days. The first from a Bay Area blogger with a website of his own and a fellow public servant from an anonymous department. Their sites are entertaining and informative as well and I'd be remiss if I didn't throw them the same shout out (Damn if I ain't street, yo) they did for me.
So, my burgeoning friends, please to enjoy mayorofconcord.com and emsfun.blogspot.com. Before you ask, the former isn't actually the mayor, but I must admit to being thrown when I saw the Mayor had commented on my blog. The latter, penned by the Happy Medic, stumbled on my blog on a recommendation from a friend of his. His wit and point of view dovetail nicely with my own and I plan on spending some time starting at the beginning of his blog and catching up on his entries. The title of Happy Medic's blog is "You called 911..for this?". Truer words never spoken. But, as we in the field say, job security.
Thank you, gentlemen, for the unexpected support. I, along with what seems to be a growing audience, will keep on eye on your adventures.
Ok, so I'm aware that the Wife and a handful of family/friends/associates (No, I will not tell you in which category you are) read this blog. Apparently, though, there are a number of other people that read this 21st century diary of sorts...and I had no clue. I've gotta try like hell not to adjust my, shall we say, colorful way of expressing myself since I've come to know there are more than a handful of you reading. What's that? Oh, I already used 'fuck'? Whew...my reputation remains intact and my fragile psyche won't suffer any permanent damage.
I had two surprising comments on the 'ol blog the past couple of days. The first from a Bay Area blogger with a website of his own and a fellow public servant from an anonymous department. Their sites are entertaining and informative as well and I'd be remiss if I didn't throw them the same shout out (Damn if I ain't street, yo) they did for me.
So, my burgeoning friends, please to enjoy mayorofconcord.com and emsfun.blogspot.com. Before you ask, the former isn't actually the mayor, but I must admit to being thrown when I saw the Mayor had commented on my blog. The latter, penned by the Happy Medic, stumbled on my blog on a recommendation from a friend of his. His wit and point of view dovetail nicely with my own and I plan on spending some time starting at the beginning of his blog and catching up on his entries. The title of Happy Medic's blog is "You called 911..for this?". Truer words never spoken. But, as we in the field say, job security.
Thank you, gentlemen, for the unexpected support. I, along with what seems to be a growing audience, will keep on eye on your adventures.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Don't tell me to hurry, B@#$%
I know I've posted before about ways to handle being pulled over and ways not to handle being pulled over. This is what not to do.
I stopped a typical Town mom on her cell phone. A no-no for six months or so now. I asked her if she knew why I stopped her. She said, I swear to you, "Cause I was eating a hot dog?" Here's a question...when the fuck did that become illegal? Whatever.
I told her she was on the phone. Like 15' from my damn car. Clear as day. Her response? "Oh, someone just called and I just picked up." Um, no. I told her I saw her yapping away and she hadn't just picked up. So, I go back to my car and scratch out the rag. I go back to have her sign and she says, prior to signing (and looking like she wanted to argue about it), "How much is this going to cost me?" I politely (I swear!) explain the court determines the fee and I don't have a number to give her. I quickly followed that up with a tutorial on what happens if she refuses to sign, cuz I see that thought formulating in her stupid head. For you uninitiated out there, a refusal equals a trip to jail (a refusal indicates a demand by the driver to be taken before a magistrate immediately...which equals an arrest).
Believe it or not, she didn't seem happy with my perfectly legal argument. Don't give a shit. She asked me again about how much it would cost. I told her, again, I didn't know, but it would most likely be less than $100. She finally signed the cite. Then she started to tell me she was in a hurry and she had to pick up her kids.
I would assume most of you know me. Some of you fairly well. But, for the sake of those who don't, let me just say I don't like to be interrupted. It's rude and leads me to believe you aren't really listening, but waiting to talk. Guess what? When you get pulled over, you are being detained. Which means your time table means exactly dick (sorry Mom, but it fits...I used the lower case). Another thing to consider. When you ask me if I have kids, that has exactly two things to do with whatever we are talking about. 1)Jack. 2)Shit. Whether or not I have spawn doesn't influence my decision making about whether you are on the fucking phone or not one iota.
At any rate, I very politely said I do indeed have children (she doesn't need to know how many). She said something to the effect of, "Well then you know why I'm late. HURRY, HURRY, HURRY".
We've established I don't like to be interrupted. Something else to consider here. Don't tell the man with the badge and the gun who has you legally detained WHAT TO DO. I, shall we say succinctly, told her I would not be rushed and subsequently leisurely returned to my car (covering a beat today) and cleared my call. All told, not more than 10-15 seconds, but to her, I'm sure it felt muuuuccchhhh longer.
I love my job. I think the next time I stop someone for a cell phone and they're polite and admit what they did, I'll give them a break in her honor. (It's not like there isn't a plethora of those violations out there, right?).
And I'm spent....
I stopped a typical Town mom on her cell phone. A no-no for six months or so now. I asked her if she knew why I stopped her. She said, I swear to you, "Cause I was eating a hot dog?" Here's a question...when the fuck did that become illegal? Whatever.
I told her she was on the phone. Like 15' from my damn car. Clear as day. Her response? "Oh, someone just called and I just picked up." Um, no. I told her I saw her yapping away and she hadn't just picked up. So, I go back to my car and scratch out the rag. I go back to have her sign and she says, prior to signing (and looking like she wanted to argue about it), "How much is this going to cost me?" I politely (I swear!) explain the court determines the fee and I don't have a number to give her. I quickly followed that up with a tutorial on what happens if she refuses to sign, cuz I see that thought formulating in her stupid head. For you uninitiated out there, a refusal equals a trip to jail (a refusal indicates a demand by the driver to be taken before a magistrate immediately...which equals an arrest).
Believe it or not, she didn't seem happy with my perfectly legal argument. Don't give a shit. She asked me again about how much it would cost. I told her, again, I didn't know, but it would most likely be less than $100. She finally signed the cite. Then she started to tell me she was in a hurry and she had to pick up her kids.
I would assume most of you know me. Some of you fairly well. But, for the sake of those who don't, let me just say I don't like to be interrupted. It's rude and leads me to believe you aren't really listening, but waiting to talk. Guess what? When you get pulled over, you are being detained. Which means your time table means exactly dick (sorry Mom, but it fits...I used the lower case). Another thing to consider. When you ask me if I have kids, that has exactly two things to do with whatever we are talking about. 1)Jack. 2)Shit. Whether or not I have spawn doesn't influence my decision making about whether you are on the fucking phone or not one iota.
At any rate, I very politely said I do indeed have children (she doesn't need to know how many). She said something to the effect of, "Well then you know why I'm late. HURRY, HURRY, HURRY".
We've established I don't like to be interrupted. Something else to consider here. Don't tell the man with the badge and the gun who has you legally detained WHAT TO DO. I, shall we say succinctly, told her I would not be rushed and subsequently leisurely returned to my car (covering a beat today) and cleared my call. All told, not more than 10-15 seconds, but to her, I'm sure it felt muuuuccchhhh longer.
I love my job. I think the next time I stop someone for a cell phone and they're polite and admit what they did, I'll give them a break in her honor. (It's not like there isn't a plethora of those violations out there, right?).
And I'm spent....
Ever seen eyes go from normal size to saucer size?
Let me set the scene...
I stopped an 18 year old last week for speed. Shocking. I walk up to the passenger side of the car and contact the kid (shudder...half my age...I digress). The usual chit-chat (read: bullshit) where I ask, "Do you know why I stopped you?" Blah, blah, blah. And here's where it gets interesting...
While the kid is getting his license out of his wallet, I glance in the rear seat of the Suburban he was driving. I see what appears to be the stock of an automatic rifle. Well, then. Very calm like, out comes my duty weapon. Kid doesn't notice anything as he is still fishing his license out of his wallet. I point my duty weapon and the kid (finger indexed, people. Safety first) and ask him, "What's up with the rifle?"
Remember watching cartoons as a kid and that male wolf saw that hot female wolf and his eyes shot out of his head? Picture that. And I can't be sure, but I think I got a whiff of poop. I may have scared the shit out of this kid. He stammered, "I-I-I-It's an airsoft gun."
Okay, no problem. I got the kid out of the car and had him walk around to me. Yadda, yadda, imagine every episode of COPS you've ever seen. I cuffed him without incident and confirmed it was indeed an airsoft gun. He claimed it was his little brother's and I tend to believe him. No big deal, but it's not every day a kid from the Town has a Sig .40 pointed at him, so I'm pretty sure the airsoft gun is now at the bottom of some trash heap.
Here's the lesson...don't be stupid and keep that shit in plain sight. Or, even better, how's about not in your car at all. Interesting side note, the orange tip had black electrician's tape wrapped around it to make it appear more real. Effective. Also a misdemeanor. I didn't arrest him for it, cuz I believed it was his brother's. I told him about the tape, though. Let me put it this way...had he pointed that at me, I would have killed him. That's some scary shit to say, but better him than me. It would have been sad and all, don't get me wrong, but that goes along with this job. We have to make life and death decisions in a heartbeat. Literally. So, if you have kids, don't let them alter their fake guns to make them look more real. They're like that for a reason.
Okay, lecture over. The punchline is that the poor kid could barely sign his citation (of course I cited him...come on) he was shaking so bad. Never thought I would utter the words, "Look at it this way. It's only a speeding ticket and you didn't get shot." Honestly, he was extremely cooperative (you'd be surprised how many aren't) and didn't seem to adversely affected by the whole thing. Never had anyone so happy to sign a ticket and wish me a good day.
I stopped an 18 year old last week for speed. Shocking. I walk up to the passenger side of the car and contact the kid (shudder...half my age...I digress). The usual chit-chat (read: bullshit) where I ask, "Do you know why I stopped you?" Blah, blah, blah. And here's where it gets interesting...
While the kid is getting his license out of his wallet, I glance in the rear seat of the Suburban he was driving. I see what appears to be the stock of an automatic rifle. Well, then. Very calm like, out comes my duty weapon. Kid doesn't notice anything as he is still fishing his license out of his wallet. I point my duty weapon and the kid (finger indexed, people. Safety first) and ask him, "What's up with the rifle?"
Remember watching cartoons as a kid and that male wolf saw that hot female wolf and his eyes shot out of his head? Picture that. And I can't be sure, but I think I got a whiff of poop. I may have scared the shit out of this kid. He stammered, "I-I-I-It's an airsoft gun."
Okay, no problem. I got the kid out of the car and had him walk around to me. Yadda, yadda, imagine every episode of COPS you've ever seen. I cuffed him without incident and confirmed it was indeed an airsoft gun. He claimed it was his little brother's and I tend to believe him. No big deal, but it's not every day a kid from the Town has a Sig .40 pointed at him, so I'm pretty sure the airsoft gun is now at the bottom of some trash heap.
Here's the lesson...don't be stupid and keep that shit in plain sight. Or, even better, how's about not in your car at all. Interesting side note, the orange tip had black electrician's tape wrapped around it to make it appear more real. Effective. Also a misdemeanor. I didn't arrest him for it, cuz I believed it was his brother's. I told him about the tape, though. Let me put it this way...had he pointed that at me, I would have killed him. That's some scary shit to say, but better him than me. It would have been sad and all, don't get me wrong, but that goes along with this job. We have to make life and death decisions in a heartbeat. Literally. So, if you have kids, don't let them alter their fake guns to make them look more real. They're like that for a reason.
Okay, lecture over. The punchline is that the poor kid could barely sign his citation (of course I cited him...come on) he was shaking so bad. Never thought I would utter the words, "Look at it this way. It's only a speeding ticket and you didn't get shot." Honestly, he was extremely cooperative (you'd be surprised how many aren't) and didn't seem to adversely affected by the whole thing. Never had anyone so happy to sign a ticket and wish me a good day.
I see you...
Listen. We all have our quirks, foibles, oddities. I understand it. Hell, I embrace it. But, here's the thing. When your particular quirk is mining for nose gold, do me a favor. Wait until you get home, will ya? I don't need to see you two fucking knuckles deep while you're driving.
Why bring this up, you ask? Oh, it's icky? Hey, don't blame me. I am but an observer of the general public's driving habits. This involves looking at a lot of cars and, consequently, a lot of drivers. Of late, I have noticed an inordinate amount of you (not you, specifically, defensive boy/girl) going to town on that all-too elusive nose goblin. I bring it up to kindly ask you to be a little more subtle or, better yet, carry some Kleenex.
We're all guilty of it. Let's be honest. It's just that some of us are more adept at it than others. I know this isn't particularly related to my usual stories of traffix hijinx, but some things just can't be ignored any longer.
So, please. For me. Knock that shit off. I don't need to see it every blessed day.
Thank you,
MotorCop
Why bring this up, you ask? Oh, it's icky? Hey, don't blame me. I am but an observer of the general public's driving habits. This involves looking at a lot of cars and, consequently, a lot of drivers. Of late, I have noticed an inordinate amount of you (not you, specifically, defensive boy/girl) going to town on that all-too elusive nose goblin. I bring it up to kindly ask you to be a little more subtle or, better yet, carry some Kleenex.
We're all guilty of it. Let's be honest. It's just that some of us are more adept at it than others. I know this isn't particularly related to my usual stories of traffix hijinx, but some things just can't be ignored any longer.
So, please. For me. Knock that shit off. I don't need to see it every blessed day.
Thank you,
MotorCop
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)