Category: Work

Humor, Law Enforcement, Work

The Trouble With Labelling. And Behaving Badly.

“Let me be clear – no one is above the law. Not a politician, not a priest, not a criminal, not a police officer. We are all accountable for our actions.”
– Antonio Villaraigosa

Dear World at Large,

I get it.  I really do.  No one likes the police (mostly, I think, because they’ve been caught) but there is an unsubtle distinction between Fascism/Police States…and you being held accountable for your behavior.

For example!  If you choose to come into a police department screaming, yelling, swearing, threatening, and gesticulating rudely…please make sure you’re in the right place for your complaint and not a completely different city and police jurisdiction.  You will look rather silly if you’re not.

Alternatively, if upon realizing your mistake you choose to continue your rant (at the wrong police station) by upping the volume and threats, and a uniformed man with a badge, a gun, and the ability to arrest you asks you to leave the property, do so.  Do not spout off that your father is an attorney (whoop de freaking doo for you, join the club), do not shout that he [the officer] doesn’t have the authority to arrest you, do not take a swing at the clerks and secretaries, and do not flip him [said officer] the bird and call him a “socialist, fascist, Taliban, moron!”.  You’ll be cited.  Not because we are fascist, but because you’re trying to hit people and trespassing.

Yours with love,
C.

Humor, Work

The Precise Science of Naps

“Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.”
~Redd Foxx

I’ve been fighting something for about a week now.  I can’t tell what disease it is exactly because it simply will not come to the foreground.  It’s lurking in the lymph nodes of my mouth and manifesting itself as nothing so much as exhaustion and a mild sore throat that just won’t go away.  But yesterday I felt so beat and icky that I went home early and tried to get some rest.

Getting rest for me is no easy feat because I can rarely sleep during the day, I usually have to be on death’s door to get some shut eye.   But, after much trial and experiment, I’ve discovered the magical combination that puts me to sleep.  And it’s more than a little bit ridiculous.

First of all I have to be on the couch under our large window.  Secondly I have to be, cat-like, in a sunbeam (which is odd because normally I can only sleep in pitch darkness).  Thirdly I have to be listening to Planet Earth, or Blue Planet…or basically anything narrated by David Attenborough – something about his voice just soothes me into slumber.  Finally, I have to be reclining on a very specific pillow at an even more specific angle.  But by these powers combined, I am Captain Zonk-out!

Unfortunately…yesterday I couldn’t quite get the clouds and the pillow quite right and spent about an hour and a half fruitlessly trying to fall asleep before throwing off the blanket and looking for something to do instead.  So I popped a couple of aspirin and reorganized our closet looking for things to throw away or donate.  Then I sorted through the (very few) books we’re not keeping and bagged them for library donation.

Every weekend I seem to be useless, but let me tell you, sick and drugged up I can get everything on my To Do list done!

Angst, Work

Adversity and Other Drugs

“Something cool,
I’d like to order something cool…”
– Julie London

Bad things come in threes, minions.  As if problems and delays in moving to only the only city I have ever loved wasn’t crippling enough (and can you tell that I’m trying hard to maintain this facade of adult-like maturity when I really want to throw a monster temper tantrum?), a very rude patron decided to complain that I was the one being rude to him!  In spite of a wide smile and attempts to help him as quickly and efficiently as possible.  And then our air conditioning went out and we woke up to a 90 degree flat yesterday morning, an event which was unfortunately repeated this morning as our landlords haven’t been able to fix it yet.

False accusations + heat + crushing disappointments = severe snark.  Although I fully admit Sav is having a much worse time.

Perk me up, kittens.  What’s going on in your corners of the world?

 

Humor, Law Enforcement, Secretary, Work

Out. Law.

“First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.”
– William Shakespeare

Exhibit A, proof that I'm a nice person, damn it!

Both my father and father-in-law are lawyers, lots of my friends parents are lawyers, I grew up amidst a plethora of lawyers, dumplings.  Charming one and all!  I never understood the all-consuming hatred some people have for lawyers… until I worked for a police department.  Now in the cosmic scheme of things most lawyers come just above tabloid journalists and other assorted media vultures, followed by cockroaches.  Which, as everyone knows, are the most horrifying, revolting, filthy concoction of vileness God ever turned out wandering-

But I digress.  Lawyers.  I am fully aware that most are decent and lovely people (this means you, Dad) but somehow I never seem to come in contact with those types professionally.  For instance!  The one who called me today and explained how he was representing the victim of some property damage.

He wanted to know the process of personal conflict mediation on campus and I explained and offered to direct him to the proper department, but no, that didn’t answer his question.  Perhaps I could take him through the process of punishment for such behavior on campus?  I explained that if the incident was a criminal matter then charges and citations would be taken up (as they always have been) by the district court, but internal university matters had a separate office for working through such things, perhaps Master Lawyer would like their information?  But that didn’t help either.  Finally I asked what exactly it was that I could help him with.
“Well, the two parties came to an agreement about repairing the damage, but that the other party has now refused to make any payments.”
“I see, but I’m not sure how I can help, sir.”
“What we were thinking…that is, we thought that maybe…perhaps that you would be able to punish this person…”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, sir.  As I said, that really would be a matter for the courts-”
“No, what I mean is, perhaps the university could put a hold on his student account to keep him from going to classes or anything.  You know, to help us exert pressure on him?”

Pictured: said raised eyebrow

Which is precisely when C. the Chipper and Helpful Office Assistant turn into Humorless, Schoolmarm-ish Small Dog of the Raised Eyebrow.
“Just so I understand, you are asking for my help in involving the university in a personal dispute between private individuals, where the police department has absolutely no need and the university no right to interfere?”
“Er-”
“Or, more plainly, you’re asking my help in getting the university to bully this other party for your client?”
“Ah.  Yes?”
“I can’t – won’t – help you with that, sir.  And nor can any other university employee I’m afraid.”  Quick transition back to Chipper and Helpful C..  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“Have a nice day, sir.”

Faugh!  What correspondence school did you get your “law” “degree” from, pray?

Friends, Humor, Life, London, University, Work

Brief Dispatches

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my life story.”
– Elvis Presley

Some of my friends seem to have gone completely round the twist lately, and not one has been able to satisfactorily explain their strange, sad, pathological, or just flat out bizarre behavior.  I’m baffled, kittens.

Dear police officers who have had all year to complete 40 hours worth of training: no sympathy.  I’ve sent you quarterly updates of your training records and multiple emails this month alone reminding you that I’m turning everything in at the end of the week, your sob stories about how you never knew you were 39 hours short will not fly here.

Sweet merciful chocolate, J. starts grad school three months from tomorrow!

Sweet merciful chocolate on a stick, we still have so much to do…

I have stayed up late every night for a week now, in a unprecedented attempt to prove that I am not a dull, matronly, boring old married woman at 25.  The net result is that I’m near psychotic from sleep deprivation and have never used so much  concealer in my life.  I r adult now, k thnx bai.

We are smack in the middle of the busiest work week of the year preceding the busiest work day of the year, the 4th of July (which includes but is not limited to VIP performers, parades, marathons and 5ks, street festivals, massive firework displays, and the gradual wearing down of any and all patriotic feelings on the part of our department staff as we deal with screaming children, patrons livid with the parking situation, traffic accidents, any amount of petty crime, and 48 hour work days).

My birthday just keeps on going!  Celebrating it with various friends and family took up about a week and I milked every day of it (Can’t do the laundry, it’s my birthday!  Can’t save that baby from the pack of roaming wolves terrorizing that burning building that was started by the earthquake, it’s my birthday!).  Last night I got the probable last of my belated birthday present…just in time for my anniversary on Friday!

Seriously…I’m so tired right now…  Ladies from the parish are coming by this evening, I should probably clean the flat and not take a nap.  But…

Visa applications can be submitted starting tomorrow, but they probably won’t be completed seeing as I have to be at work until 9pm prepping for the dratted 4th of July.  Freaking colonists and their freaking independence…

Oh dear, do I have anything for dinner?

We’re really moving in just about 2 months.  Please hand me that paperbag and ignore any sounds of angst that may escape my muffled mouth.

We’re really moving in 2 months.  London!

Humor, Law Enforcement, Life, University, Work

If I Could Get a Word In Edgewise –

More fun with phone calls!

Small Dog tries...

“University Police, this is C., how can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to a customer service representative, please.”
“Ma’am-”
“Customer service.”
“Ma’am -”
“Cus-to-mer ser-vice!”
“Ma’am, I’m not a recording.  How can I help you?”
“Oh, hello.  I lost my purse today.  I was coming to campus with my seven grandchildren – Mary, John, Paul, James, Agnes, Peter, and Martha – and we went to the museum, then stopped for lunch and went to the art museum before going to get ice cream.”
“I see.  Well, ma’am, the first -”
“They all wanted strawberry, except for Agnes who hates strawberry and had to have chocolate and Peter because he’s lactose intolerant.  So when I got them all home I got everything out of my car, it’s a 2008 suburban, tan, and I just got it new tires last week, I also had to get the oil changed!”
“Alright, so what you’ll need to do -”
“And frankly I was less than impressed by how difficult it was to get around campus with seven children, I really think you should make more accommodations for large families.  But my purse is a large satchel, canvass, and it has my planner, my medications, and my wallet and I really need it back!  Could you send an officer to go look for it?”
“I can try but I strongly recommend you come in and make a police report with us, and that you also -”
“Oh, surely no one would steal my bag and my bank isn’t very helpful.  I’ve known the manager for years and you think he would be more respectful to an older woman, especially a neighbor like me.  I really think that it’s a shame how people treat ladies my age!  The person who served us our ice cream, except for Peter of course, was also not very helpful.  You’re not being very helpful either.”
“I am trying my best, ma’am.  If you could give me a little more -”
“You’re not listening to me at all.  Please transfer me to someone who could be more useful.”

With pleasure!

Humor, Office, Secretary, University, Work

Redding, ‘Rightin, ‘Rethmetic

“My spelling is Wobbly. It’s good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places.”
– A. A. Milne

Pumpkins, you know I try to blend the everyday with humor, toss in a pinch of cynicism, and baste it lovingly with hyperbole before serving it up to you, piping hot…but there are some things that cannot be sugar coated.  I hate to break it to you if you didn’t already suspect it, or alternatively confirm your worst fears if you did: the kids are not alright.

"May I have the word again, please?" "Your word is 'cat.'"

At least, their spelling isn’t.    I’m again convinced that autocorrect is killing our brains. Here’s a few of our most recent puzzles (from witness statements, appeals, emails, and letters) and our best guesses as to what they are supposed to mean:

hared = hard
vary = very
ad = and
mastak = mistake
whey = why
exspesholy/espetially = especially
roung = wrong
lugudge = luggage
situadion = situation
oll = all
agaon = again

Humor, Office, Secretary, Work

Dear Me, You’re An Unpleasant Person, Aren’t You?

“Whoever one is, and wherever one is, one is always in the wrong if one is rude. ”
~ Maurice Baring

Dear World at Large,

Me again!  You know, if you could just learn one or two of these little lessons I’m trying to get across, we wouldn’t have to speak so often.  You could go along your merry way and I could kick back and return to chuckling benignly at your expense.  But alas, you seem determined to thrust yourself rudely at me, and here we are.

This one will be pretty short:

We salute you, brave barista.

It is an almost laughable fallacy of yours that customer service will get better as you get nastier.  Snarling (literally) at us, calling us foul names, rolling your eyes and making “under your breath” commentary about the person trying to help you (heavy on the word “incompetence”) might be a nice, passive aggressive way for you to make your feelings known, but it will not speed us up.  It will not imbue us with bureaucratic powers we do not currently posses and it will not endear you to us.  Screaming at us will actually make us less inclined to work with you, as we will be primarily concerned with getting you out of our hair.

And, here’s a tip, if you are determined to be a b***** or a b******, being surprised when someone responds to you in kind doesn’t become you.  Because someday, some brave soul not confined to office-job-obligated politeness will let you have it.  And you will find it a harrowing experience.

Just a heads up,
C.

Humor, Law Enforcement, Work

The Missing Woman Who Wasn’t

“Mystery is at the heart of creativity.  That, and surprise.”
– Julia Cameron

How’s that for a title, piglets?  Doesn’t that just thrill your soul?  Aren’t you just mad afire to solve this Agatha Christie sounding mystery?  Are you already twirling your Poirot-ish mustache and cracking your knuckles, ready to pounce and out the murderer, find the money, unmask the fiend, and kick up your heels after with a glass of port and the knowledge of a mystery tidily wrapped up?

Well, I’m sorry to disappoint because this, my enterprising sleuths, is about the silliest, least exciting, and yet most perplexing case I’ve yet to be a part of.

It all started when a young traveler coming in from China to our campus went missing.  I was called into a meeting where very many men in smart suits were sitting dourly at a table with our police officers.  They represented various university and otherwise organizations and they had misplaced a young woman.  Or rather, after flying into the country she had misplaced herself.

We're on it!

My duty in all of this was the fulfillment of dreams spawned from watching illogical cop dramas – I got to fill out the white board!  I traced timelines, physical descriptions, suspicions, all of it.  There was talk of embassies, visas, the FBI, human trafficking, slavery, kidnapping, scandal!  They shipped investigators all over, avoided the media, and formulated theories like champs.

And it turns out, that after flying all the way here, going through the visa process, paying for her trip, she got here, got cold feet, and turned right around and went back to China.  With narry an scorned heiress, missing fortune, or diabolical butler to be seen.

Humor, Work

And in the Meantime, Life Goes On

“A child is a curly dimpled lunatic.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

As excited as I am about our move (and as daunted by the still colossal amount of work we have to do), life goes on here at the police department.

During summer campus is divided up between sports campus, youth groups, lecturers, exhibitions, and (of course) the Mob of Idiots.  Officers debate which of these events are the most stressful to work, but I find I get the best stories out of the kids running around.

Kids. If I ever run out of ideas, maybe I'll spawn a few.

However, nothing will beat the day many summers ago when I was interning at NATO.  It was the one day a year the embassy was open to school groups and a small horde of five year olds were invading to be led around, fed cookies, and meet the ambassador.  Halfway through their visit, alarms went off.  Someone had threatened the compound with a bomb.

We had several procedures in place for this sort of thing.  We dismantled our computers and locked various things away in explosion proof safes and lockers as per normal.  The soldiers were supposed to come through and verify that everything was secure before exiting.  I say “supposed to” because in reality they were suddenly charged with herding scores of excited children towards the nearest exit (“Is this a fire drill?  A bomb threat?  Cool!”).  I’ve never seen so many brawny, overly muscled men look so haggard.