The Denizens of DMV

You may think that being a member of the Law Enforcement world, I'd be fairly in sync with DMV. You'd be sadly mistaken. More often than not, when I stop someone and they begin their diatribe of why their car is not currently registered with "I've been in touch with DMV...", I quickly stop them. I almost always give the benefit of the doubt to the driver when it comes to DMV. Now, don't read into that. I'm aware people claim they've done X, Y, or Z when in fact, they have not. Remember that I am not new. I know bullshit when I hear it. I can tell the difference between when DMV is giving someone the run around and when that someone is just a lazy prick that hasn't paid their registration.

I, myself, have been a victim of the ineptitude that is alive and well at the DMV. Just this week, as a matter of fact. I recently sold my car and purchased another (for cash and no payments, thank you very much). The title was filled out all proper like. The mileage portion had been written in the appropriate box; however, the last three digits had been written over themselves. That is to say, they weren't changed, but merely the same number written over as if to correct a near mistake (making sure the 6 looked like a 6 and not a 0). The clerk said, "This won't be acceptable." I was gobsmacked (shout out for my friends on the 'tother side of the pond).

The numbers were clear as day, just written over themselves boldly. I had just spent part of my morning away from my family and in the hell-hole that is the DMV and now this harpy is telling me what I have isn't good enough?!? Ok, it wasn't as bad as all that, but still...

Lucky for me, the Wife (God bless her Type A heart) had coincidentally also filled out a duplicate that was already signed by the seller as well (just in case some kind of SNAFU presented itself). I had to remind myself that it wasn't the soulless harpy's fault. She was merely doing her job. I had to remember the words of wisdom I try repeatedly to drill into you all. Be polite. Have a good attitude. The cop that stopped you did so for a reason. Just because you don't like it doesn't really matter at that particular time. So, I took a deep breath, smiled to myself and resumed my oft-maligned good natured ways.

I told you that story to tell you this one...

At the very beginning of my DMV experience, I was standing in the start line two people behind a complete Asshole. Yes, with a capital A. This is the conversation I overheard:

DMV: Ok, sir, I'll need $90 for the renewal fee for your license.
AH: WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me?
DMV: No, sir.
AH: I can't believe this. This is ridiculous. No wonder this state is so screwed up.
DMV (in an attempt to explain the fee): Sir, your license expired in August of 2009.

**I had to contain my commentary when I heard that. What I really wanted to say was, "Hey, Asshole! Your fucking license has been expired for the better part of a year! My license renewal fee is $31 and I'm two G.D. weeks early. So, shut the fuck up and pay the extra $60, you whiny bitch! We all know damn well you've been driving around for the last eight months with an expired license!" But, I didn't. Because I'm calm, cool, and collected like that. Word.**

AH: I'm not paying that right now.
DMV: We can take an ATM card.
AH: It's at home. (I call bullshit...who brings their wallet, but not their ATM card? I suppose it's possible, but I just choose to believe he was full of it.)
DMV: Ok, sir.
AH (storming out with girlfriend in tow...I swear he actually said this...looks at the girlfriend): And you wonder why I am the way I am.

No, Asshole, I don't. Seems pretty clear. Nope, no mystery there. I am usually not one to jump to DMV's defense, but clearly, this dude was a complete jerk. And the DMV clerk was patient as the day is long. I was quite impressed with her. I even tried to crack a joke about the guy with her, but she had returned to her soulless robotic self. Oh well...can't say I didn't try.

'Scuse the mess

I'm gonna be altering the appearance on the blog in the coming days/weeks. If there are elements you dig or hate, feel free to let me know.

Just a heads up...

Shit your folks should have taught you...

This post hearkens back to the tried and true pet peeve. I'm sure some of you have kids. I'm sure some of your kids do some irritating child-like things. They constantly ask the same question over and over. They pick a random word and repeat it. A gazillion times. They forever interrupt your every waking moment. And...one of my favorites...they talk to you while you're on the phone.

The Kid is 3 1/2. I love her. She's amazing. The Little One is 8 months old, so she can't do any of the above. Yet. We are trying like crazy to get her to mind her manners, be polite, don't interrupt, etc. Like my Mom says, "You're raising a little adult." Amen...if only more people had done the same. Wait, what am I saying?!? I'd be out of a job!

At any rate, it stands to reason that we all like it when we can carry on a conversation without any unwanted and, quite frankly, pointless interruptions. Believe me, it's worse when you're in uniform. The culprit isn't a child, either. Oh, no. Full grown adult. You know, the kind that should know better.

Case in point...

I'm sitting in my car talking to the Wife on my cell. I have not just jumped in the car in hot pursuit of anyone. I am neither huffing nor puffing. If I was more relaxed (other than the usual Threat Level Yellow Awareness, of course), I'd have been friggin' asleep. I see a late model Mercedes drive toward me slowly (I'm in a cul-de-sac). I know damn well dude's gonna ask something ridiculous. I was right. (Yes, it's quite the heavy cross to bear...how well you know me!)

The guy continues past me and circles around. I continue my conversation with the Wife with a brief interjection of something to the effect of, "Hang on, honey, we're about to be interrupted." He pulls up alongside. Again, slowly.

**break** Let's remember, I don't work in South Central. Dude is an old white guy driving a fuckin' Mercedes. I'm not overly concerned about him shooting me to make his bones with the local Crip set, okay? Back to it...

He pulls just along me and rolls down his passenger window. Only it was the wrong one. Eventually, he figured out those darn German controls and rolled down the right one.

MC (trying to be patient...failing miserably): *Sigh* Can I help you? (Still clutching obvious cell phone in my left hand, by the way).
INN (Ignorant Nosey Neighbor): I just pulled out of my house and saw you here.
MC: Uh-huh. (Resisting urge to point conspicuously at the phone)
INN: Well, I just left two young adults at my house. Is there anything I should know?

And here's where your 'ol buddy MC's head about exploded. So many responses to that question. The only legitimate won't-get-a-complaint one is, "No." So that's the one I went with. The others? So glad you asked:

1. Sir, I'm pretty sure there's all kinds of shit you should know that you don't. For example, you should know that's it's both rude and irritating to interrupt someone talking on the phone.
2. Two young adults, you say? You know they're doing it on your bed right now, right?
3. Nah, I'm just making sure the rapist we've been looking for all night doesn't show up on this one little court in a Town of over 40,000 people.
4. Only about a million things, sir. None of which I can be of assistance with.
5. No, but can I follow you to work and interrupt your phone call by asking you if there's anything I should know?
6. Indeed there is, sir, but it appears your folks failed to teach you. Alas, it wasn't my responsibility.

Here's a lesson to you all. If you want to talk to a cop, go right ahead. Rest assured, however, that if there were something of importance you needed to be aware of, we'd tell you! If one of us happens to be sitting in a car outside your house or down your street and we appear to be talking on the phone or typing a report, we are most likely doing just that very thing! We are not spies. We do not excel at being uber-sneaky (particularly in full fucking uniform driving a big 'ol American made black and freakin' white car!) in the middle of the blessed day.

I understand it's human nature, I do. I have the same urges when I see a cop on my street. But, I remind myself if they aren't knocking on my door or stopping me to ask me questions, I really don't give a shit what they're doing. Curiosity is a strong urge. I get it. You know what's a stronger urge? Self-preservation. Be happy we aren't coming to talk to you. 'Cause usually, it ain't the best of news, now, is it?

MC...the book?

I asked this question earlier today via Facebook and Twitter. I've no clue how many of you are enslaved to the machine of social media to the degree that HM, UKMedic999, and I are, so I shall repeat it here and patiently await your comments.

This is not an ego-centric question, I promise, but...

If I wrote a book, would you read it? Be honest. I'm legitimately curious...thanks for your time!

Should I lateral?

Thanks for the link, MF! It's an oldie, but a goodie...

My New Partner

As all of you should be aware by now, I am quite the dedicated Motor. Did you know however, I am also the department K9? Yeah...I didn't either. Read on.

I was in the midst of writing a cite today for speeding in a school zone when I heard someone yelling out. Not in a panic or anything, more like a "Hey! Look at me!" kind of yelling. I looked up and saw two ladies walking toward me on the opposite side of the street. Trotting in the middle of a fairly busy road was a dog, a Golden Retriever, more specifically. His tongue lolled to the side and a big 'ol smile on his face.

"He's not ours!" yelled the ladies.

"No problem!" I yelled back.

I never called him over to me. He just came over like we were old buddies. I grabbed his collar and id'd him (as us cop types are wont to do, don't you know) as "Floyd". A better name doesn't exist for this particular dog.

"Well, hey there, Floyd. I guess you're my new partner, huh?"

Floyd looked up at me and I swear I could've heard him say, "Yup...so you gonna rag this Food Giver or what?"

"Alright, Floyd, alright. Hang on." I finished writing the cite (one handed, mind you) and here's where it gets amusing. I had nothing to secure Floyd to, so he came back to the car with me. MC needs back up, too! I'm not sure the Food Giver, er, driver knew quite what to think as I explained the usual claptrap about traffic school and calling the court if he doesn't get a courtesy notice whilst hanging on to a dog's collar and interjecting the occasional "Good boy, Floyd!".

Turns out, 'ol Floyd snuck out of the house round about the time the last person left the house and he'd been out on the town for an hour or so and had made it quite the distance. Thankfully, it was fairly early and traffic hadn't picked up too bad and he never got hurt. Floyd's dad and/or mom was smart enough to include his name and their phone number on Floyd's collar. I was able to facilitate Floyd getting home without him going to doggie jail.

On a separate note...just in case Floyd's folks read this post...Floyd smelled like death on a cracker. Introduce him to some soap, will ya?

Thanks for a blog worthy morning, Floyd. Hope you enjoyed the scratch behind the ear....

I was born at night...

You know how it finishes. The point remains that, perhaps contrary to popular belief, I am not an idiot. So, when I pull you over for not wearing a seat belt and I tell you just that, do me a favor. Don't look down at the seat belt you are now wearing (that you not-so-subtly put on as we passed one another) and paint on your best incredulous “You-must-be-mistaken-kind-officer” face.

Can we agree to that, please? You know you weren't wearing it. I know you weren't wearing it. Instead of being a lying douche, how's about you 'fess up and be honest. How hard is that? Believe me, one of our (I'm gonna go ahead speak for every other LEO on the planet here) biggest pet peeves is being lied to. Save yourself some embarrassment and whatever last shred of imagined dignity you have and just tell me the damn truth. Remember something else as well, we typically don't ask questions that we don't already know the answers to...at least with regard to traffic related issues.

A lot of time, I'll ask someone a question and my decision to cite will be based solely on the driver's honesty. If you lack the capacity to be honest simply for the sake of being a decent human being, be honest out of your more familiar self-preservation tendencies. Might just get you out of a well deserved ticket.

The Burglar that wasn't and the Evidence Destroyer

If that doesn't sound like a B-movie, I don't know what would.

At any rate, this week, crazy at it was, offered a few entertaining details. One of which involved a residential burglary. The incident struck me as odd from the get-go. The residence was an apartment, but something about it just sounded strange. After 11 years on the job, one develops a sense for details that just seem, for lack of a better term, "off".

Typically, if there's been a burglary in an apartment, it'd be obvious. I'm talking kicked in door, ransacked property, and general sense that someone who shouldn't have been there had been. This had none of them.

I should have known something was up when I met the PR's son at the bottom of the stairs. I followed him up to his mother's apartment. The door was closed. He walked up and took the bottom hem of his T-shirt in hand and used it to grasp the door knob and open the door. Now, I'm not a fan of CSI (for reasons I'm pretty sure I've beaten the dead horse with), but I'm fairly certain even the writers of that crappy show would realize the son, referred to from here on out as ED (Evidence Destroyer...I've no clue if he suffers from any other version of ED), just effectively erased any potential fingerprint evidence on the doorknob.

I walked inside to contact the PR/Vic. She tells me quite the convoluted, discombobulated story about how she came home last night, threw her purse on the couch and went to bed. She can't remember if she locked the front door to her apartment, but she knows she locked the door to her bedroom (weird). She took the garbage out in the morning and left her door ajar, but she was only gone for a minute or so. She hadn't seen her purse since the night before.

She swore to me she checked her car, scoured her apartment, and knows for a fact she left it on the couch. I asked her if she checked under the couch. She said she had. I asked her if she checked around the couch. She said she had. Okey doke...I took her information, checked with some neighbors, and went back to the PD to write the report.

I was about a minute away from completing the report and hitting "submit" when dispatch told me I had a phone call for a supplemental report. It was ED's mom. I called her.

MC: Hi, ma'am. MC from Town PD.

ED's Mom: I'm so embarrassed.

MC: Where'd you find it?

ED's Mom: Behind the couch.

MC: Okay, ma'am. I'm glad you weren't the victim of a burglary. Thanks for calling to let me know you found your property.

*Sigh* Why I didn't listen to my instincts about this one, I don't know. I had a feeling it wasn't legit, but ED was playing Junior G-man and interrogating his mom. Eventually, I told him to knock it off and that I would be just fine asking questions without his assistance. I didn't give him any shit about destroying, but I probably should have. Oh well...lesson learned.

Happy Blogiversary!

Today marks the 2^nd Anniversary of this little project of mine. What started as a catharsis has turned into something quite a little bit more. Go ahead and take a minute to pat yourselves on the back because you all are a large part of MC’s success. Now don’t go getting a big head…I’d still be doing it to retain some semblance of sanity, but it’s damn nice knowing someone else besides me, the Wife, and the ‘Rents give a shit about what I have to say here. So, with sincerity I hope can properly be measured in such an emotionless realm as the blogosphere…Thanks, kids.

I truly appreciate all the emails (which are on the rise…I get to them when I can, I swear!), tweets, comments, and general good karma I’ve gotten from the lot of you. There’s a couple of you I can do without, but I mostly ignore you or let the faithful tear you up (easier that way, you know).

As I close my 75 hour week and I can barely stand to keep the eyes open, I want to reaffirm my commitment to continuing writing. There’s more in the future and in different forms, but the core of what makes MC, well MC, will remain as long as my fingers work and your eyes have the desire to read profanity-laced drivel. I promise to continue my efforts to entertain and educate…not necessarily all at the same time, but you knew that already.

Two years ago, before I had any blogging experience and was pretty convinced it was something only Tweeners cared about; before I knew of that upstart medic, HM, and met virtual brothers/sisters in blue and all those that support them; before I knew of the power that blogs like ours can have, I never in a million years would have that we all would grow and change in such vast ways and come to the place we stand in today.

For the last two years, the blog has been a positive influence in my life. It has functioned to keep me productive in different ways and has made me feel like others have come to count on me, in whatever minuscule way, for a chuckle. And I'm only too happy to provide.

So, thanks again for the support, all. Couldn't do it with quite as big a smile on my face without you.

Cheers,

MC