Thursday, February 26, 2009
A well earned rest...
I'm out of town for a week or so for some much deserved family time. I haven't forgotten about you. I'm ignoring you. hehe
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Light at the end of the day
You know those days where the stars just seem aligned against you? This morning I was just in a funk. There was some ridiculous on-going micro-managing type drama from the Powers That Be. I wasn't feeling particularly motivated to do much of anything. The feeling continued on through the first half of my day.
Then, long about 1200, the Wife and the Kid brought me lunch. It's a simple tradition we started since the Kid was born. The Wife is a stay-at-home Mom, so it's up to me to win that bread. When the Kid was born, I took six weeks off....which kicked ass, by the way. Since then, the Wife has brought the Kid down to the PD weekly, almost without fail, to help me get through the week and give me an opportunity to spend time with them. On the average, I work forty hours of OT a month and that can be extraordinarily exhausting.
At any rate, their visit brought me a little bit of needed joy. The day continued on, and without their smiling faces, the funk returned (though not as hard). Today, I came home and the Kid was still sleeping. The Wife told me I could go wake Kid up. I went into the room and the Kid looked so peaceful, I couldn't bring myself to disturb. About 30 minutes later, I heard the Kid. I went into the room, picked the Kid up and asked, "Do you want to cuddle?" In that sleepy voice I heard, "Yes, Daddy." We cuddled for what felt like 20 minutes, but I'm sure was closer to five. My batteries recharged. The skies cleared. The funk dissipated.
Thanks, Kid. You're without a doubt the bee's knees. Mommy ain't too shabby, neither.
Then, long about 1200, the Wife and the Kid brought me lunch. It's a simple tradition we started since the Kid was born. The Wife is a stay-at-home Mom, so it's up to me to win that bread. When the Kid was born, I took six weeks off....which kicked ass, by the way. Since then, the Wife has brought the Kid down to the PD weekly, almost without fail, to help me get through the week and give me an opportunity to spend time with them. On the average, I work forty hours of OT a month and that can be extraordinarily exhausting.
At any rate, their visit brought me a little bit of needed joy. The day continued on, and without their smiling faces, the funk returned (though not as hard). Today, I came home and the Kid was still sleeping. The Wife told me I could go wake Kid up. I went into the room and the Kid looked so peaceful, I couldn't bring myself to disturb. About 30 minutes later, I heard the Kid. I went into the room, picked the Kid up and asked, "Do you want to cuddle?" In that sleepy voice I heard, "Yes, Daddy." We cuddled for what felt like 20 minutes, but I'm sure was closer to five. My batteries recharged. The skies cleared. The funk dissipated.
Thanks, Kid. You're without a doubt the bee's knees. Mommy ain't too shabby, neither.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Messin' with Dispatch
In previous posts, I have stated something along the lines of you never want to piss off Dispatch. If I haven't, I meant to, so I'll go ahead and correct the error. I have, however, said how important they are to what I and those of my ilk do every day.
That's not to say we don't like to have fun with them every now and again. Such was the case about an hour ago. First, a brief example of your typical traffic stop...
MC: (Identifying myself)
Dispatch: MC, go ahead
MC: 11-95 (traffic stop) on 6ABC123, Main St. and 1st Ave.
Dispatch: MC, 11-95 on 6ABC123, Main and 1st.
MC: Code 4 (all is well) and 29 (wants/warrant/CDL check).
Dispatch: MC, go ahead
MC: Smith, common spelling, first of John, also common. DOB 1/1/85, white male.
Dispatch: copy...MC, your subject, Smith is 26 (no wants/warrants) and valid.
MC: Copy, thank you...I'll be 10-8 (in service), Cite 10 (ticket issued for moving violation)
If the name isn't common, we'll spell it out phonetically. For example, Smith would be Sam, Mary, Ida, Tom, Henry. You get the point. Earlier today I stopped a car and the driver had a last name that was too good to pass up. Every now and then, I like to try to get Dispatchers to laugh. It's just plain fun. My rule for this blog is to keep things as anonymous as possible, so I'll have to use something similar to the actual name. We'll go with the last name of Suitable-Enough.
MC: (after already doing the 11-95) Code 4, 29 please.
Dispatch: MC, Code 4, go ahead with your 29.
MC: Last of Suitable-Enough, as in "Is his excuse for speeding suitable enough?" first of John, DOB 1/1/85, white male.
Dispatch: (barely containing laughter and after a noticeable pause) Copy, MC. He's 26 and valid.
MC: Copy, thank you. (wrote ticket)
MC: (identified myself)
Dispatch: MC, go ahead.
MC: Apparently, his excuse was not suitable enough. I'll be Cite 10.
Dispatch: Sometimes, they just aren't.
The beauty of it was that while I'm dealing with my stop, the dispatcher still has to continue dispatching other calls to other officers and she's trying not to laugh the entire time. I think I made her smile. See? Smiles follow me wheresoever I go!
That's not to say we don't like to have fun with them every now and again. Such was the case about an hour ago. First, a brief example of your typical traffic stop...
MC: (Identifying myself)
Dispatch: MC, go ahead
MC: 11-95 (traffic stop) on 6ABC123, Main St. and 1st Ave.
Dispatch: MC, 11-95 on 6ABC123, Main and 1st.
MC: Code 4 (all is well) and 29 (wants/warrant/CDL check).
Dispatch: MC, go ahead
MC: Smith, common spelling, first of John, also common. DOB 1/1/85, white male.
Dispatch: copy...MC, your subject, Smith is 26 (no wants/warrants) and valid.
MC: Copy, thank you...I'll be 10-8 (in service), Cite 10 (ticket issued for moving violation)
If the name isn't common, we'll spell it out phonetically. For example, Smith would be Sam, Mary, Ida, Tom, Henry. You get the point. Earlier today I stopped a car and the driver had a last name that was too good to pass up. Every now and then, I like to try to get Dispatchers to laugh. It's just plain fun. My rule for this blog is to keep things as anonymous as possible, so I'll have to use something similar to the actual name. We'll go with the last name of Suitable-Enough.
MC: (after already doing the 11-95) Code 4, 29 please.
Dispatch: MC, Code 4, go ahead with your 29.
MC: Last of Suitable-Enough, as in "Is his excuse for speeding suitable enough?" first of John, DOB 1/1/85, white male.
Dispatch: (barely containing laughter and after a noticeable pause) Copy, MC. He's 26 and valid.
MC: Copy, thank you. (wrote ticket)
MC: (identified myself)
Dispatch: MC, go ahead.
MC: Apparently, his excuse was not suitable enough. I'll be Cite 10.
Dispatch: Sometimes, they just aren't.
The beauty of it was that while I'm dealing with my stop, the dispatcher still has to continue dispatching other calls to other officers and she's trying not to laugh the entire time. I think I made her smile. See? Smiles follow me wheresoever I go!
Vanity, thy name is Lydia.
I worked a little OT last night on a DUI enforcement here in town. I love arresting drunk drivers. Having been assigned to day shift for the last 2 1/2 years, I don't really have the opportunity to do that much any more, unfortunately. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but it's rare at best.
My Sgt. worked with me last night and between the two of us we stopped about 20 cars in a few hours. Not one hook...one close one, but not enough to justify. I did however, cover the beat cars on a couple details and one in particular had me laughing out loud. I seriously considered telling the woman involved, "Here's my blog address...You are gonna entertain a whole bunch of folks when I post this shit". I didn't, but it was tempting.
The detail originally came out as an unwanted guest at one of our local watering holes. The PR (person reporting) was a security guard. PR said a WMA (white male adult) gave him a fake ID and is now refusing to leave. That's all I know when I roll up on scene to cover the beat car.
Turns out, it wasn't the WMA with the fake ID, but his wife, Lydia. Lydia on first glance appears to be the typical dyed blond, fake boobs, extensions type of woman and two other cops were already talking to her, so I didn't pay her much attention, since there was apparently still the WMA somewhere around.
The beat cop, who happened to be our K9, handed me what appeared to be a CDL (CA driver's license). I am by no means an expert at identifying a fake ID. I have, however, seen my fair share of legit ones. K9 handed me the CDL. There were so many glaringly obvious issues with it, it was amusing. I didn't notice all the discrepancies till a bit later, but the first tip off was that the font size/type was completely different than the one issued by DMV. K9 ran out the CDL, but got no return, meaning this was definitely not legit. The CDL listed her first name as Lydia, so for ease of reading, I'll refer to her as Lydia. The PR has a black light and shined it over the CDL. No holograms. Another point against Lydia. I told K9, "This thing is as fake as the day is long."
Well, about that time, WMA reappears and I went to contact him. His story is fairly innocuous and not key to my tale. He was initially a bit belligerent with the staff at the watering hole, but, for the most part, not too much of a problem for us. But, for the sake of setting the scene, I will tell you Lydia is his wife. Remember that little nugget of joy...
Hubby is all kinds of distraught about all the drama unfolding, but I'm just the cover guy, so I don't know the full story, so I just make sure he isn't armed and he sits down on a bench if/until K9 needs a statement. By this time, Lydia and K9 have gone to the back parking lot of the watering hole so K9 can do his computer thing and try to find out just who the fuck Lydia is.
**Side note for the uninitiated. We've got some pretty sweet databases at our disposal in this job. We can search DMV, booking photos, county records, and a whole host of other sites to figure out who you are, what you've done in the past, how many times you've been arrested and for what, etc. Suffice it to say, you should save your breath if you're trying out a fake name.**
Eventually, K9 and Lydia have been gone for quite some time and my curiosity is getting the better of me. I left Hubby in capable hands and went back to see what the holdup was. As I walked up, K9 is talking to Lydia and she is all kinds of bent. She swears up and down DMV issued her that very CDL. **cough, cough** I call bullshit.
I'm just sort of standing there watching. I asked to see the CDL again. Now I'm noticing even more difference between a legit CDL and this one. Every CDL lists your height/weight and hair/eye color. The height/weight appeared to be similar to Lydia's. The hair/eye color? Not so much. DMV uses the code "BLN" for blond. This CDL listed her hair color as BLD. Know what that means? Fucking bald. Funny, yes. Not the funniest part, though. Her eye color? BLD. I'm no biologist or geneticist, but I'm pretty sure your eyes can't be bald.
I walked over and asked her, "Hey, did you know DMV has both your hair and eyes as bald? Isn't that weird?" Then I just sort of chuckled and took a step back. For some reason, Lydia didn't want K9 to search her wallet for additional ID. That always makes us suspicious. If you don't want us looking at XYZ we REALLY want to look at XYZ.
Technically, we could've arrested her for CVC 14610(a)(1)...I save you the verbatim section. Basically, you can't have a fake ID. If for no other reason, it gets us in the wallet to search incident to arrest. AKA, all legal, and no 4th Amendment violation. So, we're kicking around the ideas, pros/cons, etc. K9 is finally able to find Lydia in one of the databases. We've got her picture. It's her. And here comes the punchline...wait for it...
The fake CDL listed her year of birth as '65. This chick is obviously over 21, regardless of what her CDL says. I'm aware '65 puts her over, by the way, the point is why does someone who is obviously of age need a fake CDL? Hmmmm....curiouser and curiouser.
Let's go back to the little factoid above. Recall the nugget of joy? Allow me to add to it. Hubby has been hubby for a total of one month. Four weeks. He is under the impression his darling bride is 43. Unfortunately, he is mistaken. Lydia's actual year of birth? 1954. Yup, she's 54 years old. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. At this point he has no clue, however, and we just wouldn't burst his bubble would we?
Yes. We would. And, as it happens, did. Unfortunately, I wasn't present for the telling, but the beat cop that told him said his face just fell. So, with respect to the MasterCard commercials...
Cost of a fake ID: $200
Cost of a wedding license: $100
Telling the happy hubby his bride is 11 years older than she let on: Priceless
Lydia bought a fake ID to make herself YOUNGER. That is just precious. The vanity of some people absolutely cracks me up. She was no spring chicken and had quite a bit of 'work done', if you know what I mean. At the end of the day, we were able to verify her name (just about the only legitimate info on the CDL). The entire time, however, she just kept saying she didn't buy a fake ID. Vanity apparently has no bounds. I'm gonna guess whatever she paid for the license was far cheaper than Botox.
The last thing I said to her was, "Can I be honest with you? Whoever sold you this CDL straight ripped you off."
I don't think she appreciated my candor.
My Sgt. worked with me last night and between the two of us we stopped about 20 cars in a few hours. Not one hook...one close one, but not enough to justify. I did however, cover the beat cars on a couple details and one in particular had me laughing out loud. I seriously considered telling the woman involved, "Here's my blog address...You are gonna entertain a whole bunch of folks when I post this shit". I didn't, but it was tempting.
The detail originally came out as an unwanted guest at one of our local watering holes. The PR (person reporting) was a security guard. PR said a WMA (white male adult) gave him a fake ID and is now refusing to leave. That's all I know when I roll up on scene to cover the beat car.
Turns out, it wasn't the WMA with the fake ID, but his wife, Lydia. Lydia on first glance appears to be the typical dyed blond, fake boobs, extensions type of woman and two other cops were already talking to her, so I didn't pay her much attention, since there was apparently still the WMA somewhere around.
The beat cop, who happened to be our K9, handed me what appeared to be a CDL (CA driver's license). I am by no means an expert at identifying a fake ID. I have, however, seen my fair share of legit ones. K9 handed me the CDL. There were so many glaringly obvious issues with it, it was amusing. I didn't notice all the discrepancies till a bit later, but the first tip off was that the font size/type was completely different than the one issued by DMV. K9 ran out the CDL, but got no return, meaning this was definitely not legit. The CDL listed her first name as Lydia, so for ease of reading, I'll refer to her as Lydia. The PR has a black light and shined it over the CDL. No holograms. Another point against Lydia. I told K9, "This thing is as fake as the day is long."
Well, about that time, WMA reappears and I went to contact him. His story is fairly innocuous and not key to my tale. He was initially a bit belligerent with the staff at the watering hole, but, for the most part, not too much of a problem for us. But, for the sake of setting the scene, I will tell you Lydia is his wife. Remember that little nugget of joy...
Hubby is all kinds of distraught about all the drama unfolding, but I'm just the cover guy, so I don't know the full story, so I just make sure he isn't armed and he sits down on a bench if/until K9 needs a statement. By this time, Lydia and K9 have gone to the back parking lot of the watering hole so K9 can do his computer thing and try to find out just who the fuck Lydia is.
**Side note for the uninitiated. We've got some pretty sweet databases at our disposal in this job. We can search DMV, booking photos, county records, and a whole host of other sites to figure out who you are, what you've done in the past, how many times you've been arrested and for what, etc. Suffice it to say, you should save your breath if you're trying out a fake name.**
Eventually, K9 and Lydia have been gone for quite some time and my curiosity is getting the better of me. I left Hubby in capable hands and went back to see what the holdup was. As I walked up, K9 is talking to Lydia and she is all kinds of bent. She swears up and down DMV issued her that very CDL. **cough, cough** I call bullshit.
I'm just sort of standing there watching. I asked to see the CDL again. Now I'm noticing even more difference between a legit CDL and this one. Every CDL lists your height/weight and hair/eye color. The height/weight appeared to be similar to Lydia's. The hair/eye color? Not so much. DMV uses the code "BLN" for blond. This CDL listed her hair color as BLD. Know what that means? Fucking bald. Funny, yes. Not the funniest part, though. Her eye color? BLD. I'm no biologist or geneticist, but I'm pretty sure your eyes can't be bald.
I walked over and asked her, "Hey, did you know DMV has both your hair and eyes as bald? Isn't that weird?" Then I just sort of chuckled and took a step back. For some reason, Lydia didn't want K9 to search her wallet for additional ID. That always makes us suspicious. If you don't want us looking at XYZ we REALLY want to look at XYZ.
Technically, we could've arrested her for CVC 14610(a)(1)...I save you the verbatim section. Basically, you can't have a fake ID. If for no other reason, it gets us in the wallet to search incident to arrest. AKA, all legal, and no 4th Amendment violation. So, we're kicking around the ideas, pros/cons, etc. K9 is finally able to find Lydia in one of the databases. We've got her picture. It's her. And here comes the punchline...wait for it...
The fake CDL listed her year of birth as '65. This chick is obviously over 21, regardless of what her CDL says. I'm aware '65 puts her over, by the way, the point is why does someone who is obviously of age need a fake CDL? Hmmmm....curiouser and curiouser.
Let's go back to the little factoid above. Recall the nugget of joy? Allow me to add to it. Hubby has been hubby for a total of one month. Four weeks. He is under the impression his darling bride is 43. Unfortunately, he is mistaken. Lydia's actual year of birth? 1954. Yup, she's 54 years old. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. At this point he has no clue, however, and we just wouldn't burst his bubble would we?
Yes. We would. And, as it happens, did. Unfortunately, I wasn't present for the telling, but the beat cop that told him said his face just fell. So, with respect to the MasterCard commercials...
Cost of a fake ID: $200
Cost of a wedding license: $100
Telling the happy hubby his bride is 11 years older than she let on: Priceless
Lydia bought a fake ID to make herself YOUNGER. That is just precious. The vanity of some people absolutely cracks me up. She was no spring chicken and had quite a bit of 'work done', if you know what I mean. At the end of the day, we were able to verify her name (just about the only legitimate info on the CDL). The entire time, however, she just kept saying she didn't buy a fake ID. Vanity apparently has no bounds. I'm gonna guess whatever she paid for the license was far cheaper than Botox.
The last thing I said to her was, "Can I be honest with you? Whoever sold you this CDL straight ripped you off."
I don't think she appreciated my candor.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
You didn't really fall for that...oh god, you did.
I didn't handle this detail, but we all heard about it and I just had to pass along this little gem. This one falls under "Job Security". Please to enjoy...
One fine sunny day in the fine Town of, well Town, a gentleman (let's call him Rube, shall we?) was at the local big box store when he was approached by a HMA (Hispanic Male Adult). The basic story is HMA asks Rube, in broken English, if he could help direct him to an attorney's office. Rube told HMA he didn't really understand him. Enter HWG (Helpful White Guy). HWG tells Rube he can translate. HMA speaks to HWG for a minute or so.
HWG tells Rube that HMA has a winning lottery ticket, but because he is not a legal citizen, he is unable to claim the $11 million prize. HWG suggested he and Rube buy the ticket from HMA and split the prize money. HMA seems amenable to this plan.
Rube says HWG took the ticket from HMA and called a phone number on the back of the lottery ticket. HWG told Rube he verified authenticity of the ticket and it was in fact worth $11 million dollars. HWG asked HMA how much he wanted for the ticket. HMA said $40,000. Seems like a deal, doesn't it?
HWG walked over to his car, came back a few minutes later with several large stacks of money. You know, like we all have in our cars. HWG told Rube he had a total of $30,000 on him and if Rube provided the balance of $10,000, they'd be good to go.
With me so far? You see where this is going? Folks, Rube(s) exist. But the stupidity isn't done yet...
Rube agrees to the deal and the three of them get in Rube's car and drive to the local branch of Rube's bank where he withdraws a total of $3,550. Rube then drove them to another bank where he withdrew $5,000 against his credit card. Rube told HWG that was all he could get...he was going to be short $1,450. HWG, being the nice guy he is, told Rube it was no problem, he'd cover the short-coming and they'd just subtract it from the winnings. 'Cause, if you've got 30 G's in your fucking car, ponying up another $1,450 ain't no thing, you know?
Think the plan is over? Are you cringing yet? Rube's idiocy apparently knows no bounds...
Rube and HWG gave HMA the money. As agreed, HMA gave Rube the ticket. HWG suggests he and Rube drive to the local gas-n-sip to claim their prize. I mean, what gas-n-sip doesn't keep a cool 11 mil in the back for just such an occasion? Prior to arriving there, however, HMA asked Rube to stop at the local drug store so HMA could purchase some prescription meds. They arrived and HMA gave Rube a piece of paper with the name of a prostate medication (how that came up I've no idea) written on it and asked him if he could get the meds for him. HMA claimed they wouldn't sell to him what with his questionable immigration status and all.
Rube said he would. (I'm pretty sure Rube sounds just like Goofy, by the way..."Hyuck, sure I can do it for you, hyuck hyuck). Rube went inside to get the meds. Oddly enough, the pharmacist said he couldn't purchase the meds without a valid scrip from a doctor. Huh. Rube goes back out to deliver the bad news to HMA and his prostate, but lo and behold HMA and HWG are gone.
Later that night, Rube hops on his trusty computer to the Lottery website. Know what? Fake fucking ticket! No!
Thank you, Rube. You make me feel like Mr. f'n Wizard...
One fine sunny day in the fine Town of, well Town, a gentleman (let's call him Rube, shall we?) was at the local big box store when he was approached by a HMA (Hispanic Male Adult). The basic story is HMA asks Rube, in broken English, if he could help direct him to an attorney's office. Rube told HMA he didn't really understand him. Enter HWG (Helpful White Guy). HWG tells Rube he can translate. HMA speaks to HWG for a minute or so.
HWG tells Rube that HMA has a winning lottery ticket, but because he is not a legal citizen, he is unable to claim the $11 million prize. HWG suggested he and Rube buy the ticket from HMA and split the prize money. HMA seems amenable to this plan.
Rube says HWG took the ticket from HMA and called a phone number on the back of the lottery ticket. HWG told Rube he verified authenticity of the ticket and it was in fact worth $11 million dollars. HWG asked HMA how much he wanted for the ticket. HMA said $40,000. Seems like a deal, doesn't it?
HWG walked over to his car, came back a few minutes later with several large stacks of money. You know, like we all have in our cars. HWG told Rube he had a total of $30,000 on him and if Rube provided the balance of $10,000, they'd be good to go.
With me so far? You see where this is going? Folks, Rube(s) exist. But the stupidity isn't done yet...
Rube agrees to the deal and the three of them get in Rube's car and drive to the local branch of Rube's bank where he withdraws a total of $3,550. Rube then drove them to another bank where he withdrew $5,000 against his credit card. Rube told HWG that was all he could get...he was going to be short $1,450. HWG, being the nice guy he is, told Rube it was no problem, he'd cover the short-coming and they'd just subtract it from the winnings. 'Cause, if you've got 30 G's in your fucking car, ponying up another $1,450 ain't no thing, you know?
Think the plan is over? Are you cringing yet? Rube's idiocy apparently knows no bounds...
Rube and HWG gave HMA the money. As agreed, HMA gave Rube the ticket. HWG suggests he and Rube drive to the local gas-n-sip to claim their prize. I mean, what gas-n-sip doesn't keep a cool 11 mil in the back for just such an occasion? Prior to arriving there, however, HMA asked Rube to stop at the local drug store so HMA could purchase some prescription meds. They arrived and HMA gave Rube a piece of paper with the name of a prostate medication (how that came up I've no idea) written on it and asked him if he could get the meds for him. HMA claimed they wouldn't sell to him what with his questionable immigration status and all.
Rube said he would. (I'm pretty sure Rube sounds just like Goofy, by the way..."Hyuck, sure I can do it for you, hyuck hyuck). Rube went inside to get the meds. Oddly enough, the pharmacist said he couldn't purchase the meds without a valid scrip from a doctor. Huh. Rube goes back out to deliver the bad news to HMA and his prostate, but lo and behold HMA and HWG are gone.
Later that night, Rube hops on his trusty computer to the Lottery website. Know what? Fake fucking ticket! No!
Thank you, Rube. You make me feel like Mr. f'n Wizard...
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I'm such a sucker...
After much deliberation, I decided to take the bait offered by JPT once more. Thus, the title of the post. I assure you it will be the last time, my patient readers. I know I've said this isn't typically a forum for conversation and I actually mean it, but every now and then you gotta break the rules. So....
There are so many ways to respond, the mind reels. JPT has left two additional comments. I'm not going to post them. I'm sure she will have her suspicions/assessments as to why, but here's the thing. It means nothing to me. The problem with a blog is a large percentage of the time you, the reader, can't hear the tone of the written word. Unless you know me personally, as some of you do, you don't hear the inflections and the sarcasm. Believe me, it's there. I have been told on more than once occasion, "I can totally hear you saying XYZ."
I am sarcastic. I am a smartass. I also do indeed have an attitude. I make no apologies for any of it. At no time in my "Sgt" post did I say I was pissed at the lady. I was certainly making fun of her and she is indeed a doofus. I can see, after re-reading the post, how the tone can certainly be misconstrued, but it is what it is. And by the by, calling that Sgt. a 'tree-hugger' is totally a joke. I have nothing but respect for the man and learned more from him during my time in Patrol than any other supervisor.
Am I arrogant? Am I a whiner? Sometimes to both. But check it out, I'm also human. I know I have foibles and shortcomings. The nice thing about that is so long as I'm aware of them, I can adjust my approach to a given situation and work to my strengths. It must be nice for JPT to be a perfect person. What's it like in that Ivory Tower? Can you see for miles and miles? And not being affected by the things you must see every day being a ER nurse? Well, wow. You must be a rock. Congratulations to you. I was, however, sorry to hear you didn't fully pursue your obvious gift for passive/aggressive pop-psychology though, Dr. Phil(lys). Could have missed a real calling there. And I know you're dying to do your Simon impression so allow me..."This is a load of self-indulgent crap." I think we all feel better.
Now, I know I'm totally building JPT's own personal drama bank, but the thing is, I don't get to respond to people like this in my professional life. I have to be held to a "higher standard" and there's a reason for it. I get it. I get it, but I don't always like it. Thus, the blog. I get to say whatever I want here. And apparently, I am not the only one enjoying it. This was the first negative response I've gotten since I started. Bound to happen. For someone supposedly 'just passing through', she seems awfully wrapped up in me (and lest you think I'm being arrogant here, I don't mean 'me' me, but rather the blog and my attitude). Sending three responses directed at me (and here I do mean me 'me') in which I am repeatedly psychoanalyzed sounds to me like JPT has issues of her own. Having taken only basic psych many moons ago, I won't attempt an analysis.
The bottom line is it doesn't matter what I say in response to someone like JPT. I won't change her opinion. Part of the reason I indulged this silliness to begin with was to illustrate that there are indeed folks like this out there and I deal with their varying degrees of attitude, passive/aggressive behavior, and downright dislike of me based on much less than anything I've posted at any point in my blog.
I apologize to the rest of you for having to partake in this ridiculous exercise. I know a number of you don't think I should have bothered to respond to it and I appreciate your concerns and opinions. But again, it only goes to further illustrate the variety of folks that are my clientele. The great thing about this is I get the last word. So without further ado....back to the fun...
Here it is...
The. Last. Word.
There are so many ways to respond, the mind reels. JPT has left two additional comments. I'm not going to post them. I'm sure she will have her suspicions/assessments as to why, but here's the thing. It means nothing to me. The problem with a blog is a large percentage of the time you, the reader, can't hear the tone of the written word. Unless you know me personally, as some of you do, you don't hear the inflections and the sarcasm. Believe me, it's there. I have been told on more than once occasion, "I can totally hear you saying XYZ."
I am sarcastic. I am a smartass. I also do indeed have an attitude. I make no apologies for any of it. At no time in my "Sgt" post did I say I was pissed at the lady. I was certainly making fun of her and she is indeed a doofus. I can see, after re-reading the post, how the tone can certainly be misconstrued, but it is what it is. And by the by, calling that Sgt. a 'tree-hugger' is totally a joke. I have nothing but respect for the man and learned more from him during my time in Patrol than any other supervisor.
Am I arrogant? Am I a whiner? Sometimes to both. But check it out, I'm also human. I know I have foibles and shortcomings. The nice thing about that is so long as I'm aware of them, I can adjust my approach to a given situation and work to my strengths. It must be nice for JPT to be a perfect person. What's it like in that Ivory Tower? Can you see for miles and miles? And not being affected by the things you must see every day being a ER nurse? Well, wow. You must be a rock. Congratulations to you. I was, however, sorry to hear you didn't fully pursue your obvious gift for passive/aggressive pop-psychology though, Dr. Phil(lys). Could have missed a real calling there. And I know you're dying to do your Simon impression so allow me..."This is a load of self-indulgent crap." I think we all feel better.
Now, I know I'm totally building JPT's own personal drama bank, but the thing is, I don't get to respond to people like this in my professional life. I have to be held to a "higher standard" and there's a reason for it. I get it. I get it, but I don't always like it. Thus, the blog. I get to say whatever I want here. And apparently, I am not the only one enjoying it. This was the first negative response I've gotten since I started. Bound to happen. For someone supposedly 'just passing through', she seems awfully wrapped up in me (and lest you think I'm being arrogant here, I don't mean 'me' me, but rather the blog and my attitude). Sending three responses directed at me (and here I do mean me 'me') in which I am repeatedly psychoanalyzed sounds to me like JPT has issues of her own. Having taken only basic psych many moons ago, I won't attempt an analysis.
The bottom line is it doesn't matter what I say in response to someone like JPT. I won't change her opinion. Part of the reason I indulged this silliness to begin with was to illustrate that there are indeed folks like this out there and I deal with their varying degrees of attitude, passive/aggressive behavior, and downright dislike of me based on much less than anything I've posted at any point in my blog.
I apologize to the rest of you for having to partake in this ridiculous exercise. I know a number of you don't think I should have bothered to respond to it and I appreciate your concerns and opinions. But again, it only goes to further illustrate the variety of folks that are my clientele. The great thing about this is I get the last word. So without further ado....back to the fun...
Here it is...
The. Last. Word.
Friday, February 13, 2009
A retort
From a (apparently brief) reader, Just Passing Through (JPT):
"Is it ever difficult riding your motorcycle with that chip on your shoulder?
You need to sign up for some anger management classes my friend.
You might think you're letting off some steam with this blog, but I think it's much more telling about your own personal problems."
Oh goodness. Where to start...
JPT, let me start with a couple of assumptions. I have to assume you have limited knowledge and/or experience in the Law Enforcement field. Also, I'm going to assume you have not read all of my previous posts (based on your tag of JPT). Having no knowledge, or possibly experience, in your line of work, I would not feel comfortable making assumptions about you personally or your ability to do said job.
I am nothing if not professional during my contacts with the public. I take my job very seriously. However, without an outlet and regardless of what your opinion of that outlet is, this job can and will quickly suck you dry. So many of my fellow Officers and Fire Service Personnel have suffered personal tragedies (divorce, suicide, etc.) because they can't or won't communicate their frustrations, defeats, successes, and joys related to their job. It is a shame that so many good men and women have their souls wither, turn black, and die because they take this job home with them, but won't share this job. I'm not sure if that makes sense to you or not. As I said, I take this job seriously, but not too seriously.
Police and Fire tend to have "gallows humor". We have to in order to survive. Is it in poor taste? Is it inappropriate? Yeah, probably. Know what, though? It evens us out and lets us continue with our jobs serving people like yourself. People who don't like us. People who think we are all ego-maniacal, arrogant, cynical fucks who were bullies in high school. I could go on, but I won't. I don't think I'm going to change your opinion of either me or my profession as a whole. But until you hear a grandmother scream as her dead grandchild is pulled from a pool or point a gun at a despondent teenager holding a .45 over his dead father's body or go to more funerals in a year than weddings or births, you'll forgive me if I tell you I don't really care what you think about me.
That was my serious answer. My smart ass answer to your 'Is it ever difficult riding your motorcycle with that chip on your shoulder' question is "Hell no, it makes those right turns wicked tight!"
This blog is typically not a forum for me to have an ongoing discussion. This is not a conversation, but rather a way for me to yes, blow off steam, educate, entertain, and mostly amuse myself. I thought I'd make an exception in this case, though.
"Is it ever difficult riding your motorcycle with that chip on your shoulder?
You need to sign up for some anger management classes my friend.
You might think you're letting off some steam with this blog, but I think it's much more telling about your own personal problems."
Oh goodness. Where to start...
JPT, let me start with a couple of assumptions. I have to assume you have limited knowledge and/or experience in the Law Enforcement field. Also, I'm going to assume you have not read all of my previous posts (based on your tag of JPT). Having no knowledge, or possibly experience, in your line of work, I would not feel comfortable making assumptions about you personally or your ability to do said job.
I am nothing if not professional during my contacts with the public. I take my job very seriously. However, without an outlet and regardless of what your opinion of that outlet is, this job can and will quickly suck you dry. So many of my fellow Officers and Fire Service Personnel have suffered personal tragedies (divorce, suicide, etc.) because they can't or won't communicate their frustrations, defeats, successes, and joys related to their job. It is a shame that so many good men and women have their souls wither, turn black, and die because they take this job home with them, but won't share this job. I'm not sure if that makes sense to you or not. As I said, I take this job seriously, but not too seriously.
Police and Fire tend to have "gallows humor". We have to in order to survive. Is it in poor taste? Is it inappropriate? Yeah, probably. Know what, though? It evens us out and lets us continue with our jobs serving people like yourself. People who don't like us. People who think we are all ego-maniacal, arrogant, cynical fucks who were bullies in high school. I could go on, but I won't. I don't think I'm going to change your opinion of either me or my profession as a whole. But until you hear a grandmother scream as her dead grandchild is pulled from a pool or point a gun at a despondent teenager holding a .45 over his dead father's body or go to more funerals in a year than weddings or births, you'll forgive me if I tell you I don't really care what you think about me.
That was my serious answer. My smart ass answer to your 'Is it ever difficult riding your motorcycle with that chip on your shoulder' question is "Hell no, it makes those right turns wicked tight!"
This blog is typically not a forum for me to have an ongoing discussion. This is not a conversation, but rather a way for me to yes, blow off steam, educate, entertain, and mostly amuse myself. I thought I'd make an exception in this case, though.
Johhny Taxpayer
The following is a quote from a reader in response to the Quota post...
"I'm all in favor of the police enforcing traffic laws and citing dangerous driving. When you have to wait three hours for the police just to show after you've had a burglary, however, you have to wonder if all the priorities are in the right place. This isn't the fault of an individual officer but higher up the chain of command. Sometimes it seems too many resources are devoted to writing citations and not enough to serious crime. We've had about a dozen burglaries in our neighborhood in the last 6 months. None of them have been solved. There has been pretty much zero police follow-up. Just getting a phone call returned takes a week. The only time we see a regular police presence is when they're out on the nearby highway writing citations. We've asked for increased drive-by's in our neighborhood but have been told "we're understaffed". Again this is not the fault of the individual officers, they're only following orders. This seems to be a fault at the level above them."
You have valid concerns and I would like to take the time to address them.
This will most likely be a lengthy post, so I apologize in advance. I will assume you are not in Law Enforcement (otherwise you'd know the answers to the above) and I'm sure you're not the only one with the above listed concerns.
First let me briefly explain the different divisions with Patrol. I am in the traffic unit. My main function is just that, traffic. I can and will cover my beat partners, but my main duties are enforcing traffic laws and investigating collisions. I don't respond to beat details (unless they're traffic related). By the same token, beat cops don't handle collisions and typically issue significantly less citations than I do.
A small statistic for you to consider. When I became a Motor, I wrote a significant amount of tickets. Both non-injury collisions and injury collisions for that year were reduced. (I'd give you specific stats, but the Man is in a meeting) I want to say non-injury accidents were reduced by half, if memory serves. Add to that, in 2008, we had no fatal collisions (vigorously knocking wood). It is my belief that there is a direct correlation between the number of traffic stops/citations issued and the reduction in collisions. I believe we are saving lives.
With respect for your comment regarding wait time...unfortunately, you don't offer enough specifics for me to directly respond to, so I will make some assumptions based on my experience. There is a difference between a 'hot' crime and a 'cold' crime. A 'hot' crime is an in-progress crime. That gets a different response than a 'cold' crime. Burglary is a property crime. If the burglary is cold, it will fall down the priority list for my priority details; however, if the house, for example, has not been searched, the police will respond appropriately.
Of course, I don't know where you live, but you did refer to a dozen burglaries in the last 6 months. Honestly, you should be happy, believe it or not. Two of the Town's biggest crimes are auto burglaries and residential burglaries. There are simple ways to reduce them, both in Town and wherever you live. I'll be posting something along the lines of "How to avoid being a victim" in the near future, so I won't belabor the point here. We can hit a dozen burgs in a matter of weeks, not months.
A lot of them don't get solved. It's sad, but it's true. It has little or nothing to do with the police (at least in Town...I work with some excellent investigators that work tirelessly and have an excellent closure rate). This isn't CSI (worst show on TV, by the way). Clues (fibers, fingerprints, etc.) are few and far between and for a cold property crime (ie. residential burglary) the crime lab won't even touch a lot of evidence due to cost. We send in fingerprints when we find them (which is seldom). As a matter of fact, in my five years in Town I know of exactly two cases that fingerprints came back with any positive match (One of them was from the officer doing the fingerprinting).
You mentioned a week waiting for a call back. Again, without knowing where you live, I can only offer the Town experience. We have two investigators and one Detective Sgt. That's it. One investigator, on a good day, will be handling 40+ cases. If your case is a cold burg with no witnesses, no leads, and no suspects (the lion share of burgs), you are going to be low on the totem pole. It's not that they/we don't care, it's that there are likely more pressing cases (violent crimes, known suspects, etc) than yours on the same desk.
We are, indeed, under-staffed. It is a state-wide epidemic. Unless you have a 24/7 video of your street (which some folks actually do in Town) and you review said tape, you will most likely not see us drive down your street. Will we be there ten, twenty, a thousand minutes after you call for extra patrol? Maybe, maybe not. I feel confident in saying, however, we will be there.
Well, I think that about covers it. I hope that was helpful to you and the rest of you that were wondering the same thing. Listen, at the end of the day, we're similar. I don't live in Town, which means when I call my local PD (seldom as it may be), I have to wait just like you...I just know what to expect more than you do since I'm on the other side.
We (cops) are just like you (citizens) we're human, we get impatient. Sometimes we forget that although this could be our 20th auto burg this month (I'm not exaggerating) it's most likely your first. I always try to remember that, but sometimes it's difficult when you're the 20th person to leave your laptop on the front seat overnight and then are surprised when it ain't there the next morning.
"I'm all in favor of the police enforcing traffic laws and citing dangerous driving. When you have to wait three hours for the police just to show after you've had a burglary, however, you have to wonder if all the priorities are in the right place. This isn't the fault of an individual officer but higher up the chain of command. Sometimes it seems too many resources are devoted to writing citations and not enough to serious crime. We've had about a dozen burglaries in our neighborhood in the last 6 months. None of them have been solved. There has been pretty much zero police follow-up. Just getting a phone call returned takes a week. The only time we see a regular police presence is when they're out on the nearby highway writing citations. We've asked for increased drive-by's in our neighborhood but have been told "we're understaffed". Again this is not the fault of the individual officers, they're only following orders. This seems to be a fault at the level above them."
You have valid concerns and I would like to take the time to address them.
This will most likely be a lengthy post, so I apologize in advance. I will assume you are not in Law Enforcement (otherwise you'd know the answers to the above) and I'm sure you're not the only one with the above listed concerns.
First let me briefly explain the different divisions with Patrol. I am in the traffic unit. My main function is just that, traffic. I can and will cover my beat partners, but my main duties are enforcing traffic laws and investigating collisions. I don't respond to beat details (unless they're traffic related). By the same token, beat cops don't handle collisions and typically issue significantly less citations than I do.
A small statistic for you to consider. When I became a Motor, I wrote a significant amount of tickets. Both non-injury collisions and injury collisions for that year were reduced. (I'd give you specific stats, but the Man is in a meeting) I want to say non-injury accidents were reduced by half, if memory serves. Add to that, in 2008, we had no fatal collisions (vigorously knocking wood). It is my belief that there is a direct correlation between the number of traffic stops/citations issued and the reduction in collisions. I believe we are saving lives.
With respect for your comment regarding wait time...unfortunately, you don't offer enough specifics for me to directly respond to, so I will make some assumptions based on my experience. There is a difference between a 'hot' crime and a 'cold' crime. A 'hot' crime is an in-progress crime. That gets a different response than a 'cold' crime. Burglary is a property crime. If the burglary is cold, it will fall down the priority list for my priority details; however, if the house, for example, has not been searched, the police will respond appropriately.
Of course, I don't know where you live, but you did refer to a dozen burglaries in the last 6 months. Honestly, you should be happy, believe it or not. Two of the Town's biggest crimes are auto burglaries and residential burglaries. There are simple ways to reduce them, both in Town and wherever you live. I'll be posting something along the lines of "How to avoid being a victim" in the near future, so I won't belabor the point here. We can hit a dozen burgs in a matter of weeks, not months.
A lot of them don't get solved. It's sad, but it's true. It has little or nothing to do with the police (at least in Town...I work with some excellent investigators that work tirelessly and have an excellent closure rate). This isn't CSI (worst show on TV, by the way). Clues (fibers, fingerprints, etc.) are few and far between and for a cold property crime (ie. residential burglary) the crime lab won't even touch a lot of evidence due to cost. We send in fingerprints when we find them (which is seldom). As a matter of fact, in my five years in Town I know of exactly two cases that fingerprints came back with any positive match (One of them was from the officer doing the fingerprinting).
You mentioned a week waiting for a call back. Again, without knowing where you live, I can only offer the Town experience. We have two investigators and one Detective Sgt. That's it. One investigator, on a good day, will be handling 40+ cases. If your case is a cold burg with no witnesses, no leads, and no suspects (the lion share of burgs), you are going to be low on the totem pole. It's not that they/we don't care, it's that there are likely more pressing cases (violent crimes, known suspects, etc) than yours on the same desk.
We are, indeed, under-staffed. It is a state-wide epidemic. Unless you have a 24/7 video of your street (which some folks actually do in Town) and you review said tape, you will most likely not see us drive down your street. Will we be there ten, twenty, a thousand minutes after you call for extra patrol? Maybe, maybe not. I feel confident in saying, however, we will be there.
Well, I think that about covers it. I hope that was helpful to you and the rest of you that were wondering the same thing. Listen, at the end of the day, we're similar. I don't live in Town, which means when I call my local PD (seldom as it may be), I have to wait just like you...I just know what to expect more than you do since I'm on the other side.
We (cops) are just like you (citizens) we're human, we get impatient. Sometimes we forget that although this could be our 20th auto burg this month (I'm not exaggerating) it's most likely your first. I always try to remember that, but sometimes it's difficult when you're the 20th person to leave your laptop on the front seat overnight and then are surprised when it ain't there the next morning.
Why I'll never be a Sgt.
I was working a little OT last nite, as I am wont to do. The following detail came out for the Sgt...
"PR adv'g there have been recent 459's (burglaries) in her area and is upset that Town PD has not advd her of these crimes and wants to speak w/a Sgt."
I listened while the Sgt. called this lady and very calmly and professionally explained to her the ins and outs of police work and how to protect herself from victimization, etc.
I, on the other hand, am not that patient a man. First off, let's remember the unrelenting sense of entitlement we here in Town deal with on a daily basis. The arrogance of this woman is, based on the above, unreal. Gee, lady, I'm ever so sorry your personal police representative shirked his obvious responsibility of notifying you every time the police respond to any given crime (real or imagined) within a four mile radius of your home. I shall have him flogged forthwith.
Let me explain something to you. On swing shift there are three cops and one Sgt. for somewhere between 40,000 and 50,000 citizens. The sheer enormity of that ratio is ridiculous. If you think we have either the time, ability, or the inclination to advise everyone of them every time a house gets broken into, you live in the land of rainbows and fairies where money is replaced with hugs and all your dreamiest dreams become a reality. Wake up, bitches, this is the really real world and that simply ain't possible. Sorry to burst your bubble.
Here's an idea...why don't you jump on the computer, buy a newspaper, watch your local news, or, oh I don't know, TALK TO YOUR NEIGHBORS?!? Now, I didn't speak directly to this lady, so I don't know what her demeanor was. It's hard to shake this particular tree-hugger of a Sgt., so I can't guess what she was saying (and he refused to put it on speaker so we could listen in...pussy). Suffice it to say, met with the smallest little bit of attitude, my responses would have been far more, shall we say, curt?
And that's why I'll never promote...stupid mouth...
On a side note, this lady mentioned crimereports.com. There was another officer in the room and neither of us had ever heard of the site. Of course, we both jumped on-line and looked it up. Impressive. I pulled up the Town and saw that a residential burglary from the previous afternoon was already listed. So, there you go. You want to know what's going on in your 'hood? Hop on-line and look it up. Come to think of it, if this chick already knew about it, what the fuck was she bitching about. Idiot.
"PR adv'g there have been recent 459's (burglaries) in her area and is upset that Town PD has not advd her of these crimes and wants to speak w/a Sgt."
I listened while the Sgt. called this lady and very calmly and professionally explained to her the ins and outs of police work and how to protect herself from victimization, etc.
I, on the other hand, am not that patient a man. First off, let's remember the unrelenting sense of entitlement we here in Town deal with on a daily basis. The arrogance of this woman is, based on the above, unreal. Gee, lady, I'm ever so sorry your personal police representative shirked his obvious responsibility of notifying you every time the police respond to any given crime (real or imagined) within a four mile radius of your home. I shall have him flogged forthwith.
Let me explain something to you. On swing shift there are three cops and one Sgt. for somewhere between 40,000 and 50,000 citizens. The sheer enormity of that ratio is ridiculous. If you think we have either the time, ability, or the inclination to advise everyone of them every time a house gets broken into, you live in the land of rainbows and fairies where money is replaced with hugs and all your dreamiest dreams become a reality. Wake up, bitches, this is the really real world and that simply ain't possible. Sorry to burst your bubble.
Here's an idea...why don't you jump on the computer, buy a newspaper, watch your local news, or, oh I don't know, TALK TO YOUR NEIGHBORS?!? Now, I didn't speak directly to this lady, so I don't know what her demeanor was. It's hard to shake this particular tree-hugger of a Sgt., so I can't guess what she was saying (and he refused to put it on speaker so we could listen in...pussy). Suffice it to say, met with the smallest little bit of attitude, my responses would have been far more, shall we say, curt?
And that's why I'll never promote...stupid mouth...
On a side note, this lady mentioned crimereports.com. There was another officer in the room and neither of us had ever heard of the site. Of course, we both jumped on-line and looked it up. Impressive. I pulled up the Town and saw that a residential burglary from the previous afternoon was already listed. So, there you go. You want to know what's going on in your 'hood? Hop on-line and look it up. Come to think of it, if this chick already knew about it, what the fuck was she bitching about. Idiot.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Quotas vs. Performance Objective
At the end of last month, I had the pleasure (sarcasm just doesn't translate in the written word very well) of stopping a gentleman for something or other. The violation is by no means the crux of the matter, but suffice it to say, he did something he wasn't supposed to.
At any rate, not only did he know the Chief (called him by first name...which I found hilarious), or so he claimed, he also accused me of trying to fill a quota. So, I present to you, my little ravings on said quota...
Those of us in Law Enforcement have all gotten the email with like 100 different snappy comebacks when someone says something about a quota. For example, "I get to write as many of these as I want" or "One more and the wife and I get a toaster". Now, I know some of you aren't on the job, so it's education time. Ready? Quotas are illegal. Got that? Now I don't have case law memorized about it (thank you, DA, but it isn't the point...I know you started sifting through your lawyering books), but I know enough to understand that quotas = bad.
Performance objectives, on the other hand, are perfectly legal. A gentle euphemism, you say? Semantics? I disagree. And here's why. Let's say you're a barista (coffee purveyor for those of you less in the know). You're job is selling/pouring coffee. If you don't perform up to a certain standard, you are held accountable. Similar thing in my job. Probably similar thing in your job, too. It's no different for a regular beat cop. If you get zero arrests in a month, the rest of us start to question your willingness to work and your basic abilities to be a cop. There's no strict requirement (read: Quota) for arrests or citations. At some point, however, if you're not pulling your weight, it starts to show. Know who notices a lack of performance the most? Your beat partners. Your partners are much more likely to let you know your shit stinks far before Admin. None of us likes a lazy beat partner.
All of this is not to say we are making bad arrests or writing chicken shit tickets. Believe me, there are plenty of bad people/morons who are quite deserving of being arrested or receiving tickets. We've no need to make up charges on anyone.
So, bottom line time. Am I required to write X number of tickets? No. Am I encouraged to write X number of tickets? More likely than not. Do I destroy that number of tickets in any given month? Yup. I've actually said something similar on a traffic stop...
Driver: Are you filling your quota?
MC: Sir/Maam, believe me when I say that if I had a quota, I'd blow by it every month. Have a nice day...
At any rate, not only did he know the Chief (called him by first name...which I found hilarious), or so he claimed, he also accused me of trying to fill a quota. So, I present to you, my little ravings on said quota...
Those of us in Law Enforcement have all gotten the email with like 100 different snappy comebacks when someone says something about a quota. For example, "I get to write as many of these as I want" or "One more and the wife and I get a toaster". Now, I know some of you aren't on the job, so it's education time. Ready? Quotas are illegal. Got that? Now I don't have case law memorized about it (thank you, DA, but it isn't the point...I know you started sifting through your lawyering books), but I know enough to understand that quotas = bad.
Performance objectives, on the other hand, are perfectly legal. A gentle euphemism, you say? Semantics? I disagree. And here's why. Let's say you're a barista (coffee purveyor for those of you less in the know). You're job is selling/pouring coffee. If you don't perform up to a certain standard, you are held accountable. Similar thing in my job. Probably similar thing in your job, too. It's no different for a regular beat cop. If you get zero arrests in a month, the rest of us start to question your willingness to work and your basic abilities to be a cop. There's no strict requirement (read: Quota) for arrests or citations. At some point, however, if you're not pulling your weight, it starts to show. Know who notices a lack of performance the most? Your beat partners. Your partners are much more likely to let you know your shit stinks far before Admin. None of us likes a lazy beat partner.
All of this is not to say we are making bad arrests or writing chicken shit tickets. Believe me, there are plenty of bad people/morons who are quite deserving of being arrested or receiving tickets. We've no need to make up charges on anyone.
So, bottom line time. Am I required to write X number of tickets? No. Am I encouraged to write X number of tickets? More likely than not. Do I destroy that number of tickets in any given month? Yup. I've actually said something similar on a traffic stop...
Driver: Are you filling your quota?
MC: Sir/Maam, believe me when I say that if I had a quota, I'd blow by it every month. Have a nice day...
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Lest you think we're too serious...
Shit like this happens nearly every day at the PD...I'm not kidding.
I laugh at work every day. Sometimes at the public, sometimes at myself. Frequently at co-workers. If the public knew how much fun we have on a daily basis, they'd freak right the fuck out.
Oh yeah...and this one. I've actually done this one during an interview...
You all pay my salary. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you...and I'll do that. Right. About. Meow!
I laugh at work every day. Sometimes at the public, sometimes at myself. Frequently at co-workers. If the public knew how much fun we have on a daily basis, they'd freak right the fuck out.
Oh yeah...and this one. I've actually done this one during an interview...
You all pay my salary. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you...and I'll do that. Right. About. Meow!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
We've gone International...
Thanks to Happy Medic, a compatriot in the Emergency Services Field has found his way to my blog. Medicblog999 is a paramedic in the UK. He contacted me recently regarding a recent post.
The following was copied from Medicblog999's blog...
The new blog carnival for all pre-hospital care providers and A&E/ER staff is now active and is accepting post submissions for its first edition to be hosted here on the 27th February.
Closing date for posts to be submitted is the 23rd February and the topic for this first edition is:
“Your most memorable post!”
When you look back over all of the posts you have wrote, which one stands out from all of the others. Which one got the most comments, sparked the greatest debate, or moved the most amount of your readers?
And this from his comment...
I have started a blog carnival titled "The Handover" with the first issue going out on the 27th of this month. This is a carnival intended for EMS/ER posts etc. The theme for this issue is "Most Memorable Post" and with your permission, I would like to add this post to the other ones that have been submitted.
If you want some more information on the carnival, come and see the post at www.medicblog999.wordpress.com.
So, I'm spreading the word to all you other police/fire bloggers out there. Feel free to visit Medicblog999 and submit a post of your own.
Being somewhat of an outsider from the Emergency Medical field, I was honoured (cheers) to be included.
So, thank you, Medicblog999, for including me! I'll be sure to hoist a pint and wish you nothing but the best...
The following was copied from Medicblog999's blog...
The new blog carnival for all pre-hospital care providers and A&E/ER staff is now active and is accepting post submissions for its first edition to be hosted here on the 27th February.
Closing date for posts to be submitted is the 23rd February and the topic for this first edition is:
“Your most memorable post!”
When you look back over all of the posts you have wrote, which one stands out from all of the others. Which one got the most comments, sparked the greatest debate, or moved the most amount of your readers?
And this from his comment...
I have started a blog carnival titled "The Handover" with the first issue going out on the 27th of this month. This is a carnival intended for EMS/ER posts etc. The theme for this issue is "Most Memorable Post" and with your permission, I would like to add this post to the other ones that have been submitted.
If you want some more information on the carnival, come and see the post at www.medicblog999.wordpress.com.
So, I'm spreading the word to all you other police/fire bloggers out there. Feel free to visit Medicblog999 and submit a post of your own.
Being somewhat of an outsider from the Emergency Medical field, I was honoured (cheers) to be included.
So, thank you, Medicblog999, for including me! I'll be sure to hoist a pint and wish you nothing but the best...
Quote of the Day
"Now I'm fucked. Thanks a lot."
I thought about leaving that as the sole narrative of this post just to amuse myself, but then I figured you'd want to know more so here it is...whiner.
I stopped an '06 Highlander for going 60 MPH in a 45 MPH. I walked up to the car and the exchange started off vaguely pleasant. I asked the driver if she knew why I stopped her and she said, "I was speeding. I'm late for school." She seemed legitimately upset (not upset mad, but upset sorry), but, hey, I have a job to do.
I walked back to the bike to write her real quick. Lord knows she's in a hurry. I walked back up, handed her my cite book and asked her if she's had any tickets in the last year and a half. She said, "Yes!" I asked if her if she happened to go to traffic school for it. She said, "Yes! Now I'm fucked. Thanks a lot!"
I said, "I don't know if I'd use that particular verbiage (trying not to laugh since we all know damn well I would)."
She responded, "Well I would and I'm using it." Obviously, her attitude took a turn. My response? "I didn't realize I was in your car pushing down on the gas pedal. My mistake. You know, you could always take responsibility for your actions. Just something to consider. You have a nice day, now."
Astounds me I get paid for this.
I thought about leaving that as the sole narrative of this post just to amuse myself, but then I figured you'd want to know more so here it is...whiner.
I stopped an '06 Highlander for going 60 MPH in a 45 MPH. I walked up to the car and the exchange started off vaguely pleasant. I asked the driver if she knew why I stopped her and she said, "I was speeding. I'm late for school." She seemed legitimately upset (not upset mad, but upset sorry), but, hey, I have a job to do.
I walked back to the bike to write her real quick. Lord knows she's in a hurry. I walked back up, handed her my cite book and asked her if she's had any tickets in the last year and a half. She said, "Yes!" I asked if her if she happened to go to traffic school for it. She said, "Yes! Now I'm fucked. Thanks a lot!"
I said, "I don't know if I'd use that particular verbiage (trying not to laugh since we all know damn well I would)."
She responded, "Well I would and I'm using it." Obviously, her attitude took a turn. My response? "I didn't realize I was in your car pushing down on the gas pedal. My mistake. You know, you could always take responsibility for your actions. Just something to consider. You have a nice day, now."
Astounds me I get paid for this.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Who knew I had a twin...
I was perusing other blogs this fine evening when I stumbled upon a blog one of my new followers, Firelady, follows herself.
Freaked. Me. Out.
Either I'm in some kind of warped Stephen King novel (living dual lives, policing other jurisdictions whilst I think I'm sleeping) or I've got a twin (and if that's so, my folks have some serious fucking explaining to do).
At any rate, check out Ofr. Krupke (add'l points if you can name the inspiration for the name...Mom, you can't play.)
The blog title in and of itself is reason enough to read...please to enjoy!
Freaked. Me. Out.
Either I'm in some kind of warped Stephen King novel (living dual lives, policing other jurisdictions whilst I think I'm sleeping) or I've got a twin (and if that's so, my folks have some serious fucking explaining to do).
At any rate, check out Ofr. Krupke (add'l points if you can name the inspiration for the name...Mom, you can't play.)
The blog title in and of itself is reason enough to read...please to enjoy!
Why even I tend to like Firemen more than Cops...
It's well established my Dad was a Firefighter for many, many moons. So, obviously, I have a proclivity to be pro-Fire. There is a time-honored tradition of a rivalry between Fire and Polices services. Good-natured, to be sure, but there nonetheless.
Having read some of Happy Medic's recent posts regarding calls from the past, I am reminded of a detail from almost three years ago. It is not a pleasant incident, so read on with due caution.
It was a late summer/early fall day. I was fairly new on the motor. We in the Town happen to be on the same radio channel as other agencies, thus, we tend to keep tabs on what is going on around us. There came a call of a missing baby/toddler, between one and two years of age, in a neighboring jurisdiction. Teenagers run away. Kids get lost or lose track of time. Little ones, however, don't just drop out of sight.
I was in the PD at the time the call came out. Basically, the PR (person reporting) said she hadn't seen the infant for a few minutes and couldn't find her. I'm a little fuzzy on the details since it was so long ago, so bear with me. I want to say there was a rear door open that led down to a pool. A pool with no gate. A pool with no cover on it. A pool that hadn't been cleaned in an unknown amount of time. All the while this is playing out on the radio, units (both PD and Fire) are en route.
At some point, a member of Law Enforcement arrived. He was the first. Then, a couple more cops arrived. I am now yelling at the radio, "Check the fucking pool!!" I am astounded to hear a Sergeant, who is now on scene, reporting that they are searching the house and backyard, but the pool is so dirty, it's impossible to see past the surface.
I have never been so pissed off at work. I was astounded at this Sergeant. I was so bent, in fact, that I got on the bike and responded to the scene. I had every intention of jumping in that fucking pool. By the time I got on scene, I was pulling up right behind Fire. The Sergeant came strolling (I shit you not...fucking strolling) up the driveway toward me.
I looked at him and said, "Has anybody jumped in the pool yet?" His response? "You don't want to get in the pool, buddy, it's disgusting."
Allow me to break away from my narrative for a second and say something I have always wanted to say to that Sergeant.
**I can't believe you have the fucking gall to call yourself a Protector when not when of your "Officers" got wet. This is why the public hates us and loves Fire. Because they really are the Heroes. You're going to let that kid die because you were afraid of some nasty green water? Are you fucking kidding me?**
And back to it...
As it turns out, I went into the backyard, still intending to jump into that pool. But, I didn't. Know why? Fire was already in the pool. Fully dressed (without the turnout coat, but still). Know what the dipshit cop was doing? Using a fucking skimmer. Unbelievable.
Not one cop got wet in this incident. Not one. Shameful.
I was still there when Fire pulled the now dead child from the water. I heard gramma scream (she was responsible for watching the child). Hearing that scream will stay with me until the day I die. I am tearing up as I write this.
Would a cop getting wet have saved the kid? I sincerely doubt it. The kid had been missing for 10-15 minutes before anyone got there. Really not the point, though. The point is we're supposed to be Heroes, too. The cops there that day weren't. And that Sergeant? Well, I'm not really the type of person to wish someone ill...but if I was, rest assured his worthless ass would be at the top of that list.
And the kicker to all this....the guys from Fire were from my Dad's old house. I called them after they returned from the hospital and apologized for the worthless representation of the "cops" on scene and thanked them for their efforts in trying to save that kid's life.
I felt like a traitor...
And that's why, on that day at least, I like Firemen more than Cops...
Having read some of Happy Medic's recent posts regarding calls from the past, I am reminded of a detail from almost three years ago. It is not a pleasant incident, so read on with due caution.
It was a late summer/early fall day. I was fairly new on the motor. We in the Town happen to be on the same radio channel as other agencies, thus, we tend to keep tabs on what is going on around us. There came a call of a missing baby/toddler, between one and two years of age, in a neighboring jurisdiction. Teenagers run away. Kids get lost or lose track of time. Little ones, however, don't just drop out of sight.
I was in the PD at the time the call came out. Basically, the PR (person reporting) said she hadn't seen the infant for a few minutes and couldn't find her. I'm a little fuzzy on the details since it was so long ago, so bear with me. I want to say there was a rear door open that led down to a pool. A pool with no gate. A pool with no cover on it. A pool that hadn't been cleaned in an unknown amount of time. All the while this is playing out on the radio, units (both PD and Fire) are en route.
At some point, a member of Law Enforcement arrived. He was the first. Then, a couple more cops arrived. I am now yelling at the radio, "Check the fucking pool!!" I am astounded to hear a Sergeant, who is now on scene, reporting that they are searching the house and backyard, but the pool is so dirty, it's impossible to see past the surface.
I have never been so pissed off at work. I was astounded at this Sergeant. I was so bent, in fact, that I got on the bike and responded to the scene. I had every intention of jumping in that fucking pool. By the time I got on scene, I was pulling up right behind Fire. The Sergeant came strolling (I shit you not...fucking strolling) up the driveway toward me.
I looked at him and said, "Has anybody jumped in the pool yet?" His response? "You don't want to get in the pool, buddy, it's disgusting."
Allow me to break away from my narrative for a second and say something I have always wanted to say to that Sergeant.
**I can't believe you have the fucking gall to call yourself a Protector when not when of your "Officers" got wet. This is why the public hates us and loves Fire. Because they really are the Heroes. You're going to let that kid die because you were afraid of some nasty green water? Are you fucking kidding me?**
And back to it...
As it turns out, I went into the backyard, still intending to jump into that pool. But, I didn't. Know why? Fire was already in the pool. Fully dressed (without the turnout coat, but still). Know what the dipshit cop was doing? Using a fucking skimmer. Unbelievable.
Not one cop got wet in this incident. Not one. Shameful.
I was still there when Fire pulled the now dead child from the water. I heard gramma scream (she was responsible for watching the child). Hearing that scream will stay with me until the day I die. I am tearing up as I write this.
Would a cop getting wet have saved the kid? I sincerely doubt it. The kid had been missing for 10-15 minutes before anyone got there. Really not the point, though. The point is we're supposed to be Heroes, too. The cops there that day weren't. And that Sergeant? Well, I'm not really the type of person to wish someone ill...but if I was, rest assured his worthless ass would be at the top of that list.
And the kicker to all this....the guys from Fire were from my Dad's old house. I called them after they returned from the hospital and apologized for the worthless representation of the "cops" on scene and thanked them for their efforts in trying to save that kid's life.
I felt like a traitor...
And that's why, on that day at least, I like Firemen more than Cops...
Thanks...
To all who responded to the last post. I didn't post a newer post to make sure the last one stayed at the top for awhile. So, good Lord, get off my back!! You know who you are. ;-P
Yes, I have been reduced to ridiculous 'smiley' faces....*sigh*.
Additionally, one of the comments from that post requested a different layout (old eyes and color schemes....one day we shall all be there). So, the Wife found a patriotic type background. Hope you all enjoy.
Yes, I have been reduced to ridiculous 'smiley' faces....*sigh*.
Additionally, one of the comments from that post requested a different layout (old eyes and color schemes....one day we shall all be there). So, the Wife found a patriotic type background. Hope you all enjoy.
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