Well, once again the exercise-crazed among us are forcing themselves on those of us who would just as soon stay in bed. What I am referring to is the annual Turkey Trot. A 5K (or is it 10K?) jaunt around the area in my little town. They call it a "fun run" which, I can assure you, is no fun for anyone. Especially those of us who have to work the darned thing!
First of all, they hold it on Thanksgiving Day itself. Who could possibly give thanks after having to get up at 4 in the morning to be at the police station at 5, and then put into position by 6 so that when the thing starts at 8, we have already ticked off some citizens by having blocked their route? They also have the nerve to tell us it'll be over by 10. Ha! What they forget is the hardy souls (maybe foolhardy is a better word) who simply can't run that far so they end up walking three quarters of the way. Believe me, they do not finish by 10 o'clock. Some might even finish the next day!
But we, who are supposed to be writing parking tickets per our job description, have to stand out there in the cold and watch these dopes prance by, smiling and waving (I generally wave back but with only one finger). Last year it was so windy that the police barricades we set up (and WHY do they need us if there are barricades, you ask? We ask it too.) blew across the road. It's not easy to retrieve and reset those things, even with gloves on.
And another thing, I generally go to some friends house in the early afternoon for the Thanksgiving feast. How is one supposed to stay awake after getting up so early and then loading up on tryptophan? It's downright rude to the hosts to nod off in the middle of one of their stories.
But, I have no choice in the matter. I can't take a vacation day, personal time, nor call in sick, even though the thought of working this thing makes me nauseous.
TURKEYS!
Ten-seven.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
I'm A Believer
Hi folks.
I haven’t written in a while because, frankly, I just haven’t
been feeling it. Ya know? When a job you’ve been at for a while gets you into a
slow, steady rhythm it can become its own form of highway hypnosis. Especially
after the holidays. Then, something comes along and bingo, we’re back in
business.
Today I was citing a car that was about three quarters of
the way in the red (they still get the full ticket though). A guy who had parked
across the street in a two hour zone got out of his car and came over to talk
to me. This is usually to ask me if it’s okay for him to park there. Paranoia:
so much fun when it’s not mine.
Now mind you, he was on the “other side” of the sign and the
sign had no arrow on it pointing to where the sign applies, which indicates
that the rule on that sign applies to the entire block. He came over to me and this
is how it went (approximately):
Him: Is it okay to park over there?
Me: Yes, for two hours.
Him: But I’m on the other side of the sign.
Me: Is there an arrow on the sign pointing away from your
car?
Him: No.
Me: Then the rule applies to the whole block.
Him: But I FIRMLY believe that if I’m on the other side of
the sign, I’m okay there.
Me (This is the fictional part that played out in my mind):
Oh. You FIRMLY believe. Well, okay then. If you were wishy-washy about it, I’d
say no. But since you FIRMLY believe, well, of course. Do whatever you like. In
fact, why don’t you try that with every law on the books? ‘Officer, you can’t
arrest me for robbing that store. I FIRMLY believe I had a right to do it, because
there is no sign on the outside saying not to rob the place.’ Or, 'Mister, I
FIRMLY believe I should smash you in the head with this two by four because you
insulted my girlfriend.’ Your beliefs are caca, my friend, and totally
meaningless!
I wish I could say this type of stuff. It would make my job a
hell of a lot more fun. Instead, I told him AGAIN that because the sign had no arrow,
the rule applied to the entire block. So, he turned on his heel, got into his
car and moved it elsewhere.
I FIRMLY believe he is an idiot.
Ten-seven
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Animals
Hello citizens,
Occasionally a strange day will just sneak up on you. Last week I had such a day and only now, after a few hearty meals, some good nights of rest, and more than one cold shower, am I ready to write about it.
It all started when I was doing my morning sweeper route. The very last car on my route was from out of state. I won't say where so as to save that state, a state I've been to and admire, a lot of embarrassment. The vehicle in question was TEN YEARS out of registration. I didn't mean to shout back there, but in my ten years of doing this job, I've never seen a vehicle that delinquent. Now obviously, this person drove the car here to California recently with the full intention of registering it here and being a good citizen. Either that or they were just trying to get over on the system. Either way, after pushing my eyeballs back into my head, I had the vehicle towed away. The mind reels (well, mine does anyway - and frequently) at the cost in penalties, towing, fines, and other charges this person has racked up because they made the mistake of leaving their car where it shouldn't have been. After all, if it had been on the other side of the street, I would have driven by and not even noticed it. Mistakes can be costly as we can see.
After that, the day got weirder. I heard a call go out to the police about a pig (yes, a real one - be careful now) that was running amok in the street. This type of call is most unusual as we don't get a lot of pigs doing this. Most of our pigs are quite well-behaved, thank you very much. Listening to the police chatter about it on the radio was amusing, but I'm just glad the pig was not illegally parked or I might have been called to the scene. I can only handle a pig if it is sliced into bacon and put on a cheeseburger.
Later in the day, another strange call came in. This time I happened to be in the office doing some paperwork (oh, the drudgery of it all), and a blind woman called to complain about loud squirrels that were at her window taunting her. .... I'm going to let you sit with that last sentence for a while. ........
Okay, we're back. I don't know what she expected the police to do about this. The last squirrel arrest on record was way back in '42 and that wasn't for taunting, it was for nut stealing. Make your own joke, if you must. I suppose there were many ways for this woman to handle what was for her, obviously, a difficult situation, all of them better than calling the cops.
You would think that I was through with animals for the day but it was not to be. I got a call from my wife in the afternoon. She was at a clothing boutique with her daughter (my step-daughter) and wanted me to come by right away. Thinking there was some kind of clothing choice emergency, I sped there as only a police vehicle can speed through town. When I went inside, they just wanted to show me that the proprietors of the place had kittens for adoption. A cruel trick. Kittens are hard to resist, but I was forceful (you should have seen me). I put my foot down. Thankfully not on one of the kittens. What a day, what a day.
Ten-seven
Occasionally a strange day will just sneak up on you. Last week I had such a day and only now, after a few hearty meals, some good nights of rest, and more than one cold shower, am I ready to write about it.
It all started when I was doing my morning sweeper route. The very last car on my route was from out of state. I won't say where so as to save that state, a state I've been to and admire, a lot of embarrassment. The vehicle in question was TEN YEARS out of registration. I didn't mean to shout back there, but in my ten years of doing this job, I've never seen a vehicle that delinquent. Now obviously, this person drove the car here to California recently with the full intention of registering it here and being a good citizen. Either that or they were just trying to get over on the system. Either way, after pushing my eyeballs back into my head, I had the vehicle towed away. The mind reels (well, mine does anyway - and frequently) at the cost in penalties, towing, fines, and other charges this person has racked up because they made the mistake of leaving their car where it shouldn't have been. After all, if it had been on the other side of the street, I would have driven by and not even noticed it. Mistakes can be costly as we can see.
After that, the day got weirder. I heard a call go out to the police about a pig (yes, a real one - be careful now) that was running amok in the street. This type of call is most unusual as we don't get a lot of pigs doing this. Most of our pigs are quite well-behaved, thank you very much. Listening to the police chatter about it on the radio was amusing, but I'm just glad the pig was not illegally parked or I might have been called to the scene. I can only handle a pig if it is sliced into bacon and put on a cheeseburger.
Later in the day, another strange call came in. This time I happened to be in the office doing some paperwork (oh, the drudgery of it all), and a blind woman called to complain about loud squirrels that were at her window taunting her. .... I'm going to let you sit with that last sentence for a while. ........
Okay, we're back. I don't know what she expected the police to do about this. The last squirrel arrest on record was way back in '42 and that wasn't for taunting, it was for nut stealing. Make your own joke, if you must. I suppose there were many ways for this woman to handle what was for her, obviously, a difficult situation, all of them better than calling the cops.
You would think that I was through with animals for the day but it was not to be. I got a call from my wife in the afternoon. She was at a clothing boutique with her daughter (my step-daughter) and wanted me to come by right away. Thinking there was some kind of clothing choice emergency, I sped there as only a police vehicle can speed through town. When I went inside, they just wanted to show me that the proprietors of the place had kittens for adoption. A cruel trick. Kittens are hard to resist, but I was forceful (you should have seen me). I put my foot down. Thankfully not on one of the kittens. What a day, what a day.
Ten-seven
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Have A Nice Day
Hello fellow citizens,
Today, as the title of this post implies, I actually had a nice day. I guess I just woke up on the right side of the bed, or maybe it was because the dog and cat slept in their kennel and not with my wife and me (if you have pets you just might understand how good a night's sleep you can get this way). Whatever the reason, and who am I to argue?, I had a good day. Pardon me if I relish this feeling a bit longer. It's just so rare.
It started out as I was doing my morning sweeper route. I was going along and I got onto a main artery in a quiet neighborhood. I was citing a car when from across the street I heard a voice. I don't generally hear voices, you should know. A kind, elderly lady was standing at her front door waving to me. I finished the ticket and headed a little bit her way (I like to get out of there as soon as possible to avoid any unpleasant confrontations, as you can imagine, but I didn't want to be rude). She started telling me how much she appreciated me being there and how she knew how difficult my job was, etc. Then she asked me about my vehicle (we got new ones a year or so ago) and we chatted about that briefly. Then, she said goodbye and before she went in, she threw me a kiss. Now, we're not used to getting kisses thrown at us in this job. I've had invectives thrown at me, I've had the finger (you know which one, don't be coy) thrown at me. I even had an egg thrown at my vehicle (that wasn't nice), but never a kiss. Now, it's true that I'm a devastatingly handsome guy in my mid fifties (a "silver fox" I think we're called) but I really didn't expect this. Of course I couldn't act on it for several reasons: She was way too old, I'm married, and I just couldn't take that much time out of my morning sweeper route. I do have a work ethic, you know.
But wait, there's more!
Later on that morning, I rolled up on a vehicle in a red zone. A woman was dropping off what looked to be an aging hippie. I stopped behind them, shooed her out of the red and she quickly drove away. The guy beckoned to me so I opened my window (I generally hate doing as it lets the A/C out and who wants to talk to the citizens anyway?). He was in fact an aging hippie. He tried to tell me that she was just dropping him off because he was the handyman at the business we were in front of. I told him she shouldn't have dropped him off in the red though, that she could have let him off in their lot which was right there. He hesitated and I told him, "When I see red, I see Red!" He laughed. I assured him that I did not write his friend a ticket. He said, "Hey, I love you, brother," and then he shook my hand. I don't get too many, "I love you's" on this job either.
I helped a few people today, answered a few of their questions, let a few people go...
Yep, it was all in all a very nice day. It's rare and I'm still enjoying it as I write this. I should be in bed by now. Honey, let's put the pets in their kennel again tonight. Okay?
Ten-seven.
Today, as the title of this post implies, I actually had a nice day. I guess I just woke up on the right side of the bed, or maybe it was because the dog and cat slept in their kennel and not with my wife and me (if you have pets you just might understand how good a night's sleep you can get this way). Whatever the reason, and who am I to argue?, I had a good day. Pardon me if I relish this feeling a bit longer. It's just so rare.
It started out as I was doing my morning sweeper route. I was going along and I got onto a main artery in a quiet neighborhood. I was citing a car when from across the street I heard a voice. I don't generally hear voices, you should know. A kind, elderly lady was standing at her front door waving to me. I finished the ticket and headed a little bit her way (I like to get out of there as soon as possible to avoid any unpleasant confrontations, as you can imagine, but I didn't want to be rude). She started telling me how much she appreciated me being there and how she knew how difficult my job was, etc. Then she asked me about my vehicle (we got new ones a year or so ago) and we chatted about that briefly. Then, she said goodbye and before she went in, she threw me a kiss. Now, we're not used to getting kisses thrown at us in this job. I've had invectives thrown at me, I've had the finger (you know which one, don't be coy) thrown at me. I even had an egg thrown at my vehicle (that wasn't nice), but never a kiss. Now, it's true that I'm a devastatingly handsome guy in my mid fifties (a "silver fox" I think we're called) but I really didn't expect this. Of course I couldn't act on it for several reasons: She was way too old, I'm married, and I just couldn't take that much time out of my morning sweeper route. I do have a work ethic, you know.
But wait, there's more!
Later on that morning, I rolled up on a vehicle in a red zone. A woman was dropping off what looked to be an aging hippie. I stopped behind them, shooed her out of the red and she quickly drove away. The guy beckoned to me so I opened my window (I generally hate doing as it lets the A/C out and who wants to talk to the citizens anyway?). He was in fact an aging hippie. He tried to tell me that she was just dropping him off because he was the handyman at the business we were in front of. I told him she shouldn't have dropped him off in the red though, that she could have let him off in their lot which was right there. He hesitated and I told him, "When I see red, I see Red!" He laughed. I assured him that I did not write his friend a ticket. He said, "Hey, I love you, brother," and then he shook my hand. I don't get too many, "I love you's" on this job either.
I helped a few people today, answered a few of their questions, let a few people go...
Yep, it was all in all a very nice day. It's rare and I'm still enjoying it as I write this. I should be in bed by now. Honey, let's put the pets in their kennel again tonight. Okay?
Ten-seven.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
A Taste of My Own Medicine
Well, it has finally happened. Today I got a parking ticket! Here’s what happened:
My wife and I went to have lunch in the beautiful and always crowded beach town that I will call Santa Moronica. We parked at a dreaded parking meter. I used my credit card to pay (my how far we’ve come. No more fishing for coins out of my over-laden pockets). The meter would only take one pass of the card and gave us fifty-three minutes to walk to a restaurant, use the rest rooms, order, eat, pay and leave a tip. Fortunately we didn’t have time for that last item.
We couldn’t understand the behavior of the meter. Neither did the lovely couple parked in front of us. We looked at the two signs posted on the stubby pole (nowhere near the North Pole for your information), and we all felt confused. The bottom one said that we had two hour parking there from 10AM to 2PM Daily. But the meter only gave us less than an hour. Maybe the uppermost sign would explain everything. We examined it. Nope. It said that the area would be a No Stopping/Tow Away zone daily (!) except for the restriction posted below. To quote the kids today, WTF?
Both we and the other couple spotted a motorcycle cop riding by. They flagged him down (he wouldn’t stop for me, the jerk) and we asked him why the meter would not take any more of our hard-earned money. He grunted: “It stops at two.” He meant 2PM, the Neanderthal. But he didn’t explain to us what would happen AFTER 2PM, the jaded doofus.
So, off we went to eat. I don’t know where the other couple went as we didn’t promise to keep in touch. We returned to the car with five minutes to spare. Whew! However, my wife wanted to go into the camping supply store across the street. We only needed one thing and it wouldn’t take long, which turned out to be true.
As we came out of the store, we saw a police car, overhead lights on, stopped behind my car. I ran over. The parking control officer didn’t care that I worked at the same job, although in a much nicer and more considerate city with much less confusing signage, and would not entertain taking the ticket back. In fact, she wasn’t entertaining at all.
Now I ask you, why would any city place such a bizarre restriction on parking in a shopping district on a Sunday!!! It makes no sense. But you must know that Santa Moronica is not a friendly town. Parking there is a nightmare, as everyone will tell you whether they have been ticketed or not. I have determined not to ever spend any money there again. But, sadly I must say that like every resolution around this time of year, I’m sure I will have to break this one at some point too.
But now I sure know how the rest of you feel when I ticket you. Sorry.
My wife and I went to have lunch in the beautiful and always crowded beach town that I will call Santa Moronica. We parked at a dreaded parking meter. I used my credit card to pay (my how far we’ve come. No more fishing for coins out of my over-laden pockets). The meter would only take one pass of the card and gave us fifty-three minutes to walk to a restaurant, use the rest rooms, order, eat, pay and leave a tip. Fortunately we didn’t have time for that last item.
We couldn’t understand the behavior of the meter. Neither did the lovely couple parked in front of us. We looked at the two signs posted on the stubby pole (nowhere near the North Pole for your information), and we all felt confused. The bottom one said that we had two hour parking there from 10AM to 2PM Daily. But the meter only gave us less than an hour. Maybe the uppermost sign would explain everything. We examined it. Nope. It said that the area would be a No Stopping/Tow Away zone daily (!) except for the restriction posted below. To quote the kids today, WTF?
Both we and the other couple spotted a motorcycle cop riding by. They flagged him down (he wouldn’t stop for me, the jerk) and we asked him why the meter would not take any more of our hard-earned money. He grunted: “It stops at two.” He meant 2PM, the Neanderthal. But he didn’t explain to us what would happen AFTER 2PM, the jaded doofus.
So, off we went to eat. I don’t know where the other couple went as we didn’t promise to keep in touch. We returned to the car with five minutes to spare. Whew! However, my wife wanted to go into the camping supply store across the street. We only needed one thing and it wouldn’t take long, which turned out to be true.
As we came out of the store, we saw a police car, overhead lights on, stopped behind my car. I ran over. The parking control officer didn’t care that I worked at the same job, although in a much nicer and more considerate city with much less confusing signage, and would not entertain taking the ticket back. In fact, she wasn’t entertaining at all.
Now I ask you, why would any city place such a bizarre restriction on parking in a shopping district on a Sunday!!! It makes no sense. But you must know that Santa Moronica is not a friendly town. Parking there is a nightmare, as everyone will tell you whether they have been ticketed or not. I have determined not to ever spend any money there again. But, sadly I must say that like every resolution around this time of year, I’m sure I will have to break this one at some point too.
But now I sure know how the rest of you feel when I ticket you. Sorry.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Two of a kind
Hello Citizens,
I'm a poker player. I enjoy it. But there is only one thing, one sure thing, that I would bet on. That is, that someone who I catch doing something wrong will blame someone else or feel their misbehavior is somehow justified. Two days, two impounds, two cases in point.
Case 1: Yesterday I caught a pickup truck in the 8 o'clock sweeper zone. The vehicle came up as towable in my cite writer. That means it had five or more unpaid tickets (not necessarily parking tickets). The windows were down so I knew the person was around somewhere and would probably come out as we (I called a colleague over on my radio to assist) were trying to get the vehicle impounded. Sure enough, out he came and immediately started in on us. He knew he owed about fifteen hundred dollars in tickets (really!?!), and so he did. He complained about this and that and then he said something really dumb. He thought that since he'd never be able to get his car out of the impound yard (probably not) and the city was going to sell it, that they should take the fifteen hundred they'd get for it (probably not) and put that money towards his tickets! My colleague and I shook our heads in complete disbelief. There are many things wrong with this ass-ertion. First, the city doesn't auction off the cars, the impound yard does so, they would get the money not the city. Second, I don't think that they or the city would then be interested in paying off the tickets of this bozo who racked them up in the first place. Amazing. We laughed about this one over lunch later on.
Case 2: Today I called for another impound, this time the owners only owed $640 or so in late ticket fees. (Why, oh why don't they just pay them as they get them?) Again the windows were down (it's been hot here), so again I called a colleague over (a different one this time) and we waited for the tow truck to arrive. Anyway, the young lady came out of the house seemingly resigned to the fact that we were going to take the car. She called her husband who, she said, was to blame for all this (Of course! I'm married too. I understand.) and he gave her some bad advice which fortunately she didn't follow (Drive away! Drive away! She couldn't. She had two youngsters in the house). So, she looked at me and said, "Well, it must be God's Will." God's Will? Did He not pay your tickets? Really? Really?!? Then if it's God's Will, hey, I must be a Messenger of God which, if I'm understanding all this kind of stuff correctly, makes me an Angel. Ha! I've been called a lot of things on this job but never an Angel. I wonder if I can get one of those Angel stickers to put in my city vehicle window. Here I come, straight from God! So pay your goddamn tickets! Okay?
Some of them still won't. You can bet on that.
And I bid you all a heavenly ten-seven.
I'm a poker player. I enjoy it. But there is only one thing, one sure thing, that I would bet on. That is, that someone who I catch doing something wrong will blame someone else or feel their misbehavior is somehow justified. Two days, two impounds, two cases in point.
Case 1: Yesterday I caught a pickup truck in the 8 o'clock sweeper zone. The vehicle came up as towable in my cite writer. That means it had five or more unpaid tickets (not necessarily parking tickets). The windows were down so I knew the person was around somewhere and would probably come out as we (I called a colleague over on my radio to assist) were trying to get the vehicle impounded. Sure enough, out he came and immediately started in on us. He knew he owed about fifteen hundred dollars in tickets (really!?!), and so he did. He complained about this and that and then he said something really dumb. He thought that since he'd never be able to get his car out of the impound yard (probably not) and the city was going to sell it, that they should take the fifteen hundred they'd get for it (probably not) and put that money towards his tickets! My colleague and I shook our heads in complete disbelief. There are many things wrong with this ass-ertion. First, the city doesn't auction off the cars, the impound yard does so, they would get the money not the city. Second, I don't think that they or the city would then be interested in paying off the tickets of this bozo who racked them up in the first place. Amazing. We laughed about this one over lunch later on.
Case 2: Today I called for another impound, this time the owners only owed $640 or so in late ticket fees. (Why, oh why don't they just pay them as they get them?) Again the windows were down (it's been hot here), so again I called a colleague over (a different one this time) and we waited for the tow truck to arrive. Anyway, the young lady came out of the house seemingly resigned to the fact that we were going to take the car. She called her husband who, she said, was to blame for all this (Of course! I'm married too. I understand.) and he gave her some bad advice which fortunately she didn't follow (Drive away! Drive away! She couldn't. She had two youngsters in the house). So, she looked at me and said, "Well, it must be God's Will." God's Will? Did He not pay your tickets? Really? Really?!? Then if it's God's Will, hey, I must be a Messenger of God which, if I'm understanding all this kind of stuff correctly, makes me an Angel. Ha! I've been called a lot of things on this job but never an Angel. I wonder if I can get one of those Angel stickers to put in my city vehicle window. Here I come, straight from God! So pay your goddamn tickets! Okay?
Some of them still won't. You can bet on that.
And I bid you all a heavenly ten-seven.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
People people people
Okay, well just one guy really. But he is indicative of the people people people of the title of this post.
Here's what happened. I am doing my 10 o'clock sweeper route (sweeper truck goes by, cleans the street, we come along and cite those who haven't moved their vehicles. Very simple). It's a quarter past 10 and I get out of my city vehicle to cite a pickup truck that the sweeper just went around. You could still see the big wet arc it made on the street around the pickup. I'm writing the ticket on my electronic cite writer when a young guy, maybe around 20 years old, comes out of this house wearing just a bathrobe. The following is an approximation of what was said:
HIM: Are you going to write me a ticket?
ME: Yep.
HIM: Oh come on. I'm ten minutes late. My alarm didn't go off. Really?
ME: You're fifteen minutes late and the sweeper went around you.
HIM: I'm going to call the newspapers. I'm sure they'd love this story. Guy gives guy a ticket who didn't make it out of bed on time. (Did he actually think I'd be intimidated by this?)
ME: You're going to call the newspaper to tell them how irresponsible you were? I don't think they'll go for it. Look sir, you're past the time on the sign and the sweeper went around you.
HIM: Look at me! (At this point he opens his bathrobe. I quickly turn away but not before noticing that he is indeed wearing shorts. Thank heaven) I just woke up!
ME: Sorry sir. (I start walking back toward my vehicle)
HIM: Well, have fun killing puppies today.
Now, when he said this I had to laugh. Out loud. It's a good thing I wasn't facing him or I would have laughed right in his face.
ME: It's not like that, sir. Why, I haven't killed a puppy in years. (I didn't really say that last part but I sure wanted to)
Now I'm back in my vehicle and I watch as he takes the keys out of his robe pocket (I guess he sleeps with them in there) and move the pickup across the street. I'm off to my next violator, laughing the whole way. I mean, to equate what I do with puppy-killing is pretty out there. It's just another example of a person who can't take responsibility for their own actions or the lack thereof. People people people.
Here's what happened. I am doing my 10 o'clock sweeper route (sweeper truck goes by, cleans the street, we come along and cite those who haven't moved their vehicles. Very simple). It's a quarter past 10 and I get out of my city vehicle to cite a pickup truck that the sweeper just went around. You could still see the big wet arc it made on the street around the pickup. I'm writing the ticket on my electronic cite writer when a young guy, maybe around 20 years old, comes out of this house wearing just a bathrobe. The following is an approximation of what was said:
HIM: Are you going to write me a ticket?
ME: Yep.
HIM: Oh come on. I'm ten minutes late. My alarm didn't go off. Really?
ME: You're fifteen minutes late and the sweeper went around you.
HIM: I'm going to call the newspapers. I'm sure they'd love this story. Guy gives guy a ticket who didn't make it out of bed on time. (Did he actually think I'd be intimidated by this?)
ME: You're going to call the newspaper to tell them how irresponsible you were? I don't think they'll go for it. Look sir, you're past the time on the sign and the sweeper went around you.
HIM: Look at me! (At this point he opens his bathrobe. I quickly turn away but not before noticing that he is indeed wearing shorts. Thank heaven) I just woke up!
ME: Sorry sir. (I start walking back toward my vehicle)
HIM: Well, have fun killing puppies today.
Now, when he said this I had to laugh. Out loud. It's a good thing I wasn't facing him or I would have laughed right in his face.
ME: It's not like that, sir. Why, I haven't killed a puppy in years. (I didn't really say that last part but I sure wanted to)
Now I'm back in my vehicle and I watch as he takes the keys out of his robe pocket (I guess he sleeps with them in there) and move the pickup across the street. I'm off to my next violator, laughing the whole way. I mean, to equate what I do with puppy-killing is pretty out there. It's just another example of a person who can't take responsibility for their own actions or the lack thereof. People people people.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Tricks and Tips
Many times a person will resort to chicanery to try to fool us. After all who wants to get a ticket if they can avoid it by whatever means necessary? Some of the ways people attempt to fake us out will be discussed here. But rest assured we’re on to all of these methods.
1) Rolling the tires. Marking a tire let's us know whether you have moved your vehicle before the allotted time on the sign expires (10 minutes, 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, 3 hours, 4 hours! This is getting ridiculous!). If you wipe the mark off, that’s a big no-no for which, if you are caught, you’ll have to go to court. If you roll your car forward or backward to conceal the mark, we will see it. We will crawl on all fours if we have to to find that damned mark. Then again, sometimes we mark the tires in a different way. And no, I’m not telling you what that way is. Nyah
2) Leaving an old ticket envelope on the windshield. Some people think that if they leave the envelope on their windshield from the ticket they got last week that we are so lazy we won’t get out of our vehicles to check. Well, some of my colleagues might not – they ARE incredibly lazy – but I will! If the ticket looks faded, dirty, wrinkled, wet or any other way that makes it appear not so fresh (you know the feeling, don’t you?), we will look to see if you are trying to scam us. Recently, I opened an envelope only to find not a ticket in there but an old, blackened banana peel. How bizarre, I thought. Perhaps the person was trying to cultivate a large, black cloud of fruit flies that would attack me the minute I disturbed their resting place. Who knows? It didn’t work by the way. I gave them a new ticket. How I chuckled.
3) Notes. People will leave us notes of varying types: “Car won’t start,” “Battery Dead,” “Can’t move it – tow truck coming today.” Or simply “Please don’t ticket” P-shaw. We know you are either too lazy to get up and move it or you were too lazy (or drunk) last night to try and find a better spot that wasn’t in the sweeper zone. Maybe you’re off visiting Grandma in another state (and frankly, I don’t care what state your grandmother is in). When several vehicles mysteriously have dead batteries on the same street on sweeper day, we get awfully suspicious. It’s worse than being back in elementary school. “Little Johnny can’t move his car today. He’s sick. Signed Little Johnny’s Mother.”
If only I had a portable car crusher….
Ten-Seven
1) Rolling the tires. Marking a tire let's us know whether you have moved your vehicle before the allotted time on the sign expires (10 minutes, 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, 3 hours, 4 hours! This is getting ridiculous!). If you wipe the mark off, that’s a big no-no for which, if you are caught, you’ll have to go to court. If you roll your car forward or backward to conceal the mark, we will see it. We will crawl on all fours if we have to to find that damned mark. Then again, sometimes we mark the tires in a different way. And no, I’m not telling you what that way is. Nyah
2) Leaving an old ticket envelope on the windshield. Some people think that if they leave the envelope on their windshield from the ticket they got last week that we are so lazy we won’t get out of our vehicles to check. Well, some of my colleagues might not – they ARE incredibly lazy – but I will! If the ticket looks faded, dirty, wrinkled, wet or any other way that makes it appear not so fresh (you know the feeling, don’t you?), we will look to see if you are trying to scam us. Recently, I opened an envelope only to find not a ticket in there but an old, blackened banana peel. How bizarre, I thought. Perhaps the person was trying to cultivate a large, black cloud of fruit flies that would attack me the minute I disturbed their resting place. Who knows? It didn’t work by the way. I gave them a new ticket. How I chuckled.
3) Notes. People will leave us notes of varying types: “Car won’t start,” “Battery Dead,” “Can’t move it – tow truck coming today.” Or simply “Please don’t ticket” P-shaw. We know you are either too lazy to get up and move it or you were too lazy (or drunk) last night to try and find a better spot that wasn’t in the sweeper zone. Maybe you’re off visiting Grandma in another state (and frankly, I don’t care what state your grandmother is in). When several vehicles mysteriously have dead batteries on the same street on sweeper day, we get awfully suspicious. It’s worse than being back in elementary school. “Little Johnny can’t move his car today. He’s sick. Signed Little Johnny’s Mother.”
If only I had a portable car crusher….
Ten-Seven
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Being Outed
Greetings fellow citizens! Happy New Year and all that. I know it's February already but I've been a lazy correspondent of late. You're probably wondering what I mean by the title of this piece. It's not what you're thinking. I wanted to talk a little bit about being outside all day. I don't like it.
Outside you are constantly at the whims of Mother Nature (and we know how she can be). Some days it's too hot, some it's too cold. I like "conditioned" air, a roof over my head when it rains, being sheltered from high winds, away from the dangerous UV rays of the sun, etc. I like being able to get up from my desk, stretch my legs and walk over to the snack machine (damn, there's NEVER anything good in this thing. On top of that, some of the bad things you're trying to buy get stuck and don't fall. But I digress). I've worked in many office settings and a Jeep Wrangler is a poor substitute for an office, I can tell you. For one thing, it's cramped. I've been more comfortable stuffed into the seats of some carnival rides. You feel every bump in the road in those things too (I mean the Jeep). I swear sometimes it feels like you know when you've gone over a painted line! The sight lines are terrible too (It doesn't help that we are driving on the "wrong" side of the vehicle - the better way to mark tires - well, no, it's the ONLY way). And speaking of marking tires, just try to hang your arm out the window of one of these monsters and reach all the way down to a cars tires. Not easy, I assure you and I have the bruises to prove it. Not to mention being choked by the shoulder belt. I thought those things are in there to help!
Anyway, you also run into (not literally with the Jeep) all kinds of people you'd rather not see. With the evil people you can understand why we don't want to see them, but even the nice people who just want to chat or ask us a question, all they do is stop our progress. We're like Greta Garbo. We vant to be alone. (For those of you under 50 who are reading this, you might have to Google her). And then the Desk will send us somewhere just as we're getting somewhere else to do something else - take your pick: lunch, bathroom break, pick up the marks we put down, goof off, etc. No, I really don't like being outside all day.
On the other hand though, there are some nice things about it. We drive around the city unsupervised all day which means if I have to stop in at the post office (you remember what THAT is, right?) and buy some stamps, I can do so. I can also go to my favorite frozen yogurt place (I'd mention their name but only if they'll throw some money my way for the plug), or drop in on the local pharmacy and pick my meds (this job, I tell ya, makes me need more and more meds).
In addition to that, for the last few days, I've seen the large flock of wild parrots that nests around town. They are noisy as hell but it's quite a sight to see the whole flock flying around. They're a beautiful green. In fact they look like flying pistachio nuts, if nuts had wings. (Here, I'd like to put in a word for a documentary called "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." If you haven't seen this film, you're in for a treat. Rent it today. What are you waiting for?) You also see some other beautiful sights. A few months back we had a hell of a rain storm and there was a gigantic double rainbow in the sky afterwards. Makes you feel like a kid just looking at it. And something else that makes you feel darned good is seeing all the pretty girls. This place being close to Los Angeles means there are lots of beautiful women out there who are or want to be actresses. No complaints about them, even the ones who park badly! There are local merchants who treat us kindly by giving us discounts at their places of business too (man, I'm craving that frozen yogurt right about now).
So, in all I guess it's just like everything else. There is a balance to it. Some bad stuff and some good. You never know how your day is going to be. Block off a street for several hours because of a fire or flirt with the girl in the yogurt store? Hm. I wonder if they still have the key lime sorbet?
Ten-seven
Outside you are constantly at the whims of Mother Nature (and we know how she can be). Some days it's too hot, some it's too cold. I like "conditioned" air, a roof over my head when it rains, being sheltered from high winds, away from the dangerous UV rays of the sun, etc. I like being able to get up from my desk, stretch my legs and walk over to the snack machine (damn, there's NEVER anything good in this thing. On top of that, some of the bad things you're trying to buy get stuck and don't fall. But I digress). I've worked in many office settings and a Jeep Wrangler is a poor substitute for an office, I can tell you. For one thing, it's cramped. I've been more comfortable stuffed into the seats of some carnival rides. You feel every bump in the road in those things too (I mean the Jeep). I swear sometimes it feels like you know when you've gone over a painted line! The sight lines are terrible too (It doesn't help that we are driving on the "wrong" side of the vehicle - the better way to mark tires - well, no, it's the ONLY way). And speaking of marking tires, just try to hang your arm out the window of one of these monsters and reach all the way down to a cars tires. Not easy, I assure you and I have the bruises to prove it. Not to mention being choked by the shoulder belt. I thought those things are in there to help!
Anyway, you also run into (not literally with the Jeep) all kinds of people you'd rather not see. With the evil people you can understand why we don't want to see them, but even the nice people who just want to chat or ask us a question, all they do is stop our progress. We're like Greta Garbo. We vant to be alone. (For those of you under 50 who are reading this, you might have to Google her). And then the Desk will send us somewhere just as we're getting somewhere else to do something else - take your pick: lunch, bathroom break, pick up the marks we put down, goof off, etc. No, I really don't like being outside all day.
On the other hand though, there are some nice things about it. We drive around the city unsupervised all day which means if I have to stop in at the post office (you remember what THAT is, right?) and buy some stamps, I can do so. I can also go to my favorite frozen yogurt place (I'd mention their name but only if they'll throw some money my way for the plug), or drop in on the local pharmacy and pick my meds (this job, I tell ya, makes me need more and more meds).
In addition to that, for the last few days, I've seen the large flock of wild parrots that nests around town. They are noisy as hell but it's quite a sight to see the whole flock flying around. They're a beautiful green. In fact they look like flying pistachio nuts, if nuts had wings. (Here, I'd like to put in a word for a documentary called "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." If you haven't seen this film, you're in for a treat. Rent it today. What are you waiting for?) You also see some other beautiful sights. A few months back we had a hell of a rain storm and there was a gigantic double rainbow in the sky afterwards. Makes you feel like a kid just looking at it. And something else that makes you feel darned good is seeing all the pretty girls. This place being close to Los Angeles means there are lots of beautiful women out there who are or want to be actresses. No complaints about them, even the ones who park badly! There are local merchants who treat us kindly by giving us discounts at their places of business too (man, I'm craving that frozen yogurt right about now).
So, in all I guess it's just like everything else. There is a balance to it. Some bad stuff and some good. You never know how your day is going to be. Block off a street for several hours because of a fire or flirt with the girl in the yogurt store? Hm. I wonder if they still have the key lime sorbet?
Ten-seven
Friday, December 30, 2011
Buddy, Can You Spare a Quota?
Hi everyone,
Well, here we are. Another Christmas season come and gone (Whew!). And am I ever glad. Although this particular Christmas wasn't too terrible, it had its share of people who made me feel I don't know what the spirit of the season is and I don't want to know! It seems that as soon as we hit December 1st, it is now the "Holiday Season" and we should refrain from giving tickets (a refrain I'm getting pretty sick of hearing). This time, Christmas week wasn't so bad, as I said, but New Year's Week - oh, brother. New Year's Day falls on a Sunday this year (coincidentally, so do I), and the city takes off on Monday. That means there is no street sweeping, trash collection and such. But person after person I encountered this week seemed to believe that New Year's Day started today (Friday) and their violations shouldn't count somehow. Many people demanded that I "do the right thing" and let them go. I found this very annoying. I was doing the right thing! Just ask my boss! It's the whiny entitlement aspect of it all I find so frustrating. "There's a holiday a few days from now so you should let me go today." Please. Go change your diaper. You stink.
Oh yeah, as to the title of this post: one lady I cited for the sweeper going around her vehicle got in my grill big time insisting that we must have a quota and I'm just doing this to fill that requirement, blah blah blah. I actually started feeling myself getting angry at this... person. I told her to go ahead and call the chief of police and ask him (he loves having his time wasted answering questions about parking control). We don't have a quota, we don't need a quota. A quota would only slow us down.
Okay, I understand. Times are tough; money's tight. But that means we as citizens have to take even more responsibility to make sure we are doing the right thing. It's cheaper, for one, and it creates better karma. I had one guy accuse me of being a robot. You know, just unemotionally giving him the ticket. I wish. It would be a hell of a lot easier on me (I'm so delicate) if I was emotionless. I think the Vulcans have it right sometimes. So, we're damned if we do and damned if we don't. ...Damn.
Have a happy 2012 and, to paraphrase Admiral What'shisname, Screw the Mayans, full speed ahead!
Ten-Seven
Well, here we are. Another Christmas season come and gone (Whew!). And am I ever glad. Although this particular Christmas wasn't too terrible, it had its share of people who made me feel I don't know what the spirit of the season is and I don't want to know! It seems that as soon as we hit December 1st, it is now the "Holiday Season" and we should refrain from giving tickets (a refrain I'm getting pretty sick of hearing). This time, Christmas week wasn't so bad, as I said, but New Year's Week - oh, brother. New Year's Day falls on a Sunday this year (coincidentally, so do I), and the city takes off on Monday. That means there is no street sweeping, trash collection and such. But person after person I encountered this week seemed to believe that New Year's Day started today (Friday) and their violations shouldn't count somehow. Many people demanded that I "do the right thing" and let them go. I found this very annoying. I was doing the right thing! Just ask my boss! It's the whiny entitlement aspect of it all I find so frustrating. "There's a holiday a few days from now so you should let me go today." Please. Go change your diaper. You stink.
Oh yeah, as to the title of this post: one lady I cited for the sweeper going around her vehicle got in my grill big time insisting that we must have a quota and I'm just doing this to fill that requirement, blah blah blah. I actually started feeling myself getting angry at this... person. I told her to go ahead and call the chief of police and ask him (he loves having his time wasted answering questions about parking control). We don't have a quota, we don't need a quota. A quota would only slow us down.
Okay, I understand. Times are tough; money's tight. But that means we as citizens have to take even more responsibility to make sure we are doing the right thing. It's cheaper, for one, and it creates better karma. I had one guy accuse me of being a robot. You know, just unemotionally giving him the ticket. I wish. It would be a hell of a lot easier on me (I'm so delicate) if I was emotionless. I think the Vulcans have it right sometimes. So, we're damned if we do and damned if we don't. ...Damn.
Have a happy 2012 and, to paraphrase Admiral What'shisname, Screw the Mayans, full speed ahead!
Ten-Seven
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Don't egg me on
Well, fellow citizens, I was having a pretty good day up until late this afternoon. I had just taken my vehicle to the car wash that we use and then decided to go check out a trouble spot that I am aware of in my beat. Who knew it would be more trouble than I bargained for? I got to the street and what did I find? One in the red zone on one side and another by the hydrant on the other side. Jackpot! So, I parked in the middle lane (we can do this), put my flashers and overhead lights on, and got out - carefully. I cited the one in the red, then I cross the wide boulevard to go over to cite the one by the hydrant. I'm looking down to get the plate when I hear: Booossshhh!
I look up to discover that someone has thrown an egg at my vehicle striking the windshield on the left side. Fortunately we drive looking out on the right side. But I mean, I had just gone to the car wash! I couldn't believe it! I did not see who threw the potential chicken as they must have done it from a car and sped off. I was more bummed than pissed. I also realized it could have been worse in a couple of ways:
Way 1 - they could have thrown it at me!
Way 2 - they could have thrown a rock.
One of the cops later told me, "Good thing it wasn't a bullet." I hadn't thought of that. Thanks.
The windshield washer and wipers were fairly ineffective, so back to the car wash I went. They cleaned it up all right, however, the inside of the vehicle smelled like cooked eggs the rest of the day. Not pleasant really.
This is the first time this has happened to me in all the time I've been on this job. Is it any wonder I'm ready to retire?
10-7
I look up to discover that someone has thrown an egg at my vehicle striking the windshield on the left side. Fortunately we drive looking out on the right side. But I mean, I had just gone to the car wash! I couldn't believe it! I did not see who threw the potential chicken as they must have done it from a car and sped off. I was more bummed than pissed. I also realized it could have been worse in a couple of ways:
Way 1 - they could have thrown it at me!
Way 2 - they could have thrown a rock.
One of the cops later told me, "Good thing it wasn't a bullet." I hadn't thought of that. Thanks.
The windshield washer and wipers were fairly ineffective, so back to the car wash I went. They cleaned it up all right, however, the inside of the vehicle smelled like cooked eggs the rest of the day. Not pleasant really.
This is the first time this has happened to me in all the time I've been on this job. Is it any wonder I'm ready to retire?
10-7
Friday, November 25, 2011
Whaddya Know?
There are two things that drive me, Officer X, completely nuts when I’m out there writing tickets. Let’s say I catch somebody in a red zone (I wish you people would stop feeding my pet peeve already! He’s big enough as it is). When I pull up along side them to chase them out (which is not what I prefer to do but hey, Lieutenant’s orders) and I say to them “You can’t stop in the red (I respectfully leave out the word - asshole)” they will say one of two things in response. (No. Guess again. No. Okay, let me tell you.) They will say either, “I know.” To which I will generally say “You know but you did it anyway?” leaving out the word I’d love to scream, or they say “Oh, I didn’t know.” Really? You didn’t know? You have a driver’s license but you didn’t know that you can’t stop, stand or park in the friggin’ red? Wow, you really are an asshole then aren’t ya? Red means NO pretty much everywhere in the universe except maybe Mars. Is that where you’re from?
Sometimes I’ll ask them if they indeed have a driver’s license. Hey, you never know. When they start to say something again, I usually just chase them out with sharp words and mean looks (It’s fun. Try it sometime.) because I really do not want to hear their mealy-mouthed excuses.
The red can be stopped in if it’s an emergency. An emergency. A real one. Not something you decide is an emergency. The list is endless of what people think is an emergency so I’ll spare you. Sometimes, if I can remember and I am not crabby from not having eaten, I’ll ask the person if they are having car trouble. If they say yes then my whole demeanor changes. I actually do want to be helpful to people who can use my help. After all, with my trusty police-issued radio, I can summon policemen, firemen, ambulances, you name it. Well, ice cream men maybe not. But if they are not having car trouble and are just being stupid, then I go crazy behind my phony smile. I tell you, it’s tough on my back teeth. I’m grinding them down to nubs.
So please, if I ask you about being stopped in the red or any other of the dozens of parking infractions that you are doing or about to be doing, don’t say “I know” or “I didn’t know.” It makes me insane. Ya know?
Ten-Seven
Sometimes I’ll ask them if they indeed have a driver’s license. Hey, you never know. When they start to say something again, I usually just chase them out with sharp words and mean looks (It’s fun. Try it sometime.) because I really do not want to hear their mealy-mouthed excuses.
The red can be stopped in if it’s an emergency. An emergency. A real one. Not something you decide is an emergency. The list is endless of what people think is an emergency so I’ll spare you. Sometimes, if I can remember and I am not crabby from not having eaten, I’ll ask the person if they are having car trouble. If they say yes then my whole demeanor changes. I actually do want to be helpful to people who can use my help. After all, with my trusty police-issued radio, I can summon policemen, firemen, ambulances, you name it. Well, ice cream men maybe not. But if they are not having car trouble and are just being stupid, then I go crazy behind my phony smile. I tell you, it’s tough on my back teeth. I’m grinding them down to nubs.
So please, if I ask you about being stopped in the red or any other of the dozens of parking infractions that you are doing or about to be doing, don’t say “I know” or “I didn’t know.” It makes me insane. Ya know?
Ten-Seven
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Another turkey move
People, people, people. Come on. Oh, pardon me, hello citizens. Today I'd like to discuss a bone-headed move by one of you in my little town. You know who you are and if it's not you, then don't do this okay?
I was doing my 8AM sweeper route and came across a car (a Benz, no less) in the sweeper zone that had no rear plate. Or so I thought. This is a drag because it means I have to get out of my vehicle. It's cold, I was listening to something interesting on the radio, why piss me off?
Okay, so I get out to read the VIN (vehicle identification number - to say "VIN number" is redundant and I won't do it), and what do I discover? He or she had left the front plate on the car. I went around to the back and found that she (turns out it was a woman's car. Still it could have been a male driver. Who knows how relationships go these days and what with our community property laws in California, you know...) had put a dealer plate OVER her rear plate to cover up the fact that it was more than six months out of date. Tsk, tsk, tsk. If you're not going to register your car, don't park it illegally in some other way! Duh!
So, the final verdict was this: I cited her for the sweeper violation. I cited her for the expired tags, AND I cited her for covering her plate. Three for the price of one! I know this sounds harsh but really I could have towed her car away and as you know, that can run into big money.
So this Thanksgiving, I hope she was thankful that I was so nice to her. But I'm betting she was not.
Digest this (and your turkey) well.
10-7
I was doing my 8AM sweeper route and came across a car (a Benz, no less) in the sweeper zone that had no rear plate. Or so I thought. This is a drag because it means I have to get out of my vehicle. It's cold, I was listening to something interesting on the radio, why piss me off?
Okay, so I get out to read the VIN (vehicle identification number - to say "VIN number" is redundant and I won't do it), and what do I discover? He or she had left the front plate on the car. I went around to the back and found that she (turns out it was a woman's car. Still it could have been a male driver. Who knows how relationships go these days and what with our community property laws in California, you know...) had put a dealer plate OVER her rear plate to cover up the fact that it was more than six months out of date. Tsk, tsk, tsk. If you're not going to register your car, don't park it illegally in some other way! Duh!
So, the final verdict was this: I cited her for the sweeper violation. I cited her for the expired tags, AND I cited her for covering her plate. Three for the price of one! I know this sounds harsh but really I could have towed her car away and as you know, that can run into big money.
So this Thanksgiving, I hope she was thankful that I was so nice to her. But I'm betting she was not.
Digest this (and your turkey) well.
10-7
Sunday, November 6, 2011
You're a 10 (code)
As promised, my dear citizens, here are the 10 codes used by our local force (and also by us. We can’t use force). I probably shouldn't be publishing these because they are after all, codes. But, if Julian Assange can do it, what the hey.
10-1 = Receiving Poorly (This does not refer to your favorite football team)
10-2 = Receiving OK (Good hands)
10-4 = Check; OK (Well, we all know this one from the CB craze in the 80’s, which we’d just as soon forget, or if you’re old enough, from Broderick Crawford in Highway Patrol. I do not remember this.)
10-5 = Relay (I have no friggin’ idea what this means and I’ve never heard anyone say this on the radio. Maybe in a race.)
10-6 = Busy (Could be busy doing anything so don’t bother me now. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)
10-7 = Out Of Service (This restaurant stinks. Let’s go eat somewhere else)
10-8 = In Service (I’m available for calls. Said reluctantly by most PCO’s.)
10-9 = Repeat, Conditions Bad (I couldn’t hear you with the rock station in my vehicle turned up so high)
10-10 = Out of Service, Subject to Call (Huh? I thought I was out of service. What the -?)
10-13 = Weather Condition (People usually just say it’s raining)
10-14 = Escort (And she’s better be over 18)
10-15 = Suspect in Custody (Thankfully, we’d never say this.)
10-16 = Pick Up Prisoner @ ______ (We never pick anyone up [unless they’re over 18])
10-17 = Pick Up Papers (You slob)
10-19 = Return to Station (And I mean it. Don’t make me ask again. Sometimes we say this if we are, you know, going back to the station. It’s nice there)
10-20 = What is Your Location (Honestly, some people are so nosy)
10-21 = Call __________ by Phone (Not unless you tell me who!)
10-22 = Disregard (Fuggedaboudit!)
10-23 = Stand by (No one EVER says 10-23. It’s easier just to say Stand By. How silly to make a code for this)
10-28 = Full Registration (No, not at a hotel. We say this to get the info on a car we might be citing, like whether it’s registered or not [That year tab looks fake to me])
10-29 = Check for Wanted (In other words, can you see if this vehicle is stolen? If so, I’m outta here)
10-33 = Emergency Information (I’d never say this. I’d be too busy screaming)
10-35 = Confidential Information (I guess I’d better not tell you what this means)
10-36 = Time Check (Look at your watch you lazy bastard!)
10-42 = Officer @ Home (Yep, and that’s where I’m stayin’)
10-97 = Arrived @ Scene (Hey man, I’m always on the scene baby)
10-98 = Completed Last Detail (Not the movie with Jack Nicholson. It means I’m done with what you just had me do…and now I’m going back home. Quit bothering me)
That’s all of them. Aren’t you glad you now know all this? I expect every one of you to commit these to memory. Heaven knows I can’t.
10-7 (I think)
10-1 = Receiving Poorly (This does not refer to your favorite football team)
10-2 = Receiving OK (Good hands)
10-4 = Check; OK (Well, we all know this one from the CB craze in the 80’s, which we’d just as soon forget, or if you’re old enough, from Broderick Crawford in Highway Patrol. I do not remember this.)
10-5 = Relay (I have no friggin’ idea what this means and I’ve never heard anyone say this on the radio. Maybe in a race.)
10-6 = Busy (Could be busy doing anything so don’t bother me now. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)
10-7 = Out Of Service (This restaurant stinks. Let’s go eat somewhere else)
10-8 = In Service (I’m available for calls. Said reluctantly by most PCO’s.)
10-9 = Repeat, Conditions Bad (I couldn’t hear you with the rock station in my vehicle turned up so high)
10-10 = Out of Service, Subject to Call (Huh? I thought I was out of service. What the -?)
10-13 = Weather Condition (People usually just say it’s raining)
10-14 = Escort (And she’s better be over 18)
10-15 = Suspect in Custody (Thankfully, we’d never say this.)
10-16 = Pick Up Prisoner @ ______ (We never pick anyone up [unless they’re over 18])
10-17 = Pick Up Papers (You slob)
10-19 = Return to Station (And I mean it. Don’t make me ask again. Sometimes we say this if we are, you know, going back to the station. It’s nice there)
10-20 = What is Your Location (Honestly, some people are so nosy)
10-21 = Call __________ by Phone (Not unless you tell me who!)
10-22 = Disregard (Fuggedaboudit!)
10-23 = Stand by (No one EVER says 10-23. It’s easier just to say Stand By. How silly to make a code for this)
10-28 = Full Registration (No, not at a hotel. We say this to get the info on a car we might be citing, like whether it’s registered or not [That year tab looks fake to me])
10-29 = Check for Wanted (In other words, can you see if this vehicle is stolen? If so, I’m outta here)
10-33 = Emergency Information (I’d never say this. I’d be too busy screaming)
10-35 = Confidential Information (I guess I’d better not tell you what this means)
10-36 = Time Check (Look at your watch you lazy bastard!)
10-42 = Officer @ Home (Yep, and that’s where I’m stayin’)
10-97 = Arrived @ Scene (Hey man, I’m always on the scene baby)
10-98 = Completed Last Detail (Not the movie with Jack Nicholson. It means I’m done with what you just had me do…and now I’m going back home. Quit bothering me)
That’s all of them. Aren’t you glad you now know all this? I expect every one of you to commit these to memory. Heaven knows I can’t.
10-7 (I think)
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Another Fun Little Story
I gave a sidewalk ticket today (my least favorite as you know). After I was done, of course the whole family came out of the house (the man first). He comes over waving the ticket and speaking in an accent I think was from Uranus or somewhere. He says, “Why did you give us a ticket?” I patiently explained that his SUV was parked too far over the sidewalk. “But this is my private property!” No sir, I explained again patiently, the property lines starts after the sidewalk. Then the wife (whose car it was) chimes in. “What does it say in the vehicle code?” Such erudition for a troglodyte. I explained again somewhat less patiently what the code was. Her husband looked back at her and her sister? His sister? He said something in Uranian and they quickly shut up. I guess he said I’ll handle this bastard or something equally wonderful. He throws the ticket into my vehicle and says, “You cannot give us a ticket!” I take the ticket and say “I’ll just mail it to you then.” He says, “No! You cannot mail it. You cannot mail it!” (Yes, we can) So I figured, okay, and just got out of my vehicle and put the damned thing back on his wife’s windshield. Now he’s really getting worked up. “I’m going to sue you! What is your name?” I wouldn’t say even though it’s stitched on my shirt in a nifty patch over my breast pocket. Then he bellows, “You will remember this day! You will remember this day!” Well, I guess so. I’m writing about it. But honestly, I’d just as soon forget it.
10-7
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Pardon me, but your pants are on fire
There are a lot of pants on fire in my town. That's because when we are approached by a citizen that we are in the process of citing, they usually lie to us. I don't like to be lied to, do you? It's degrading to both of us, isn't it? Don't get me wrong, I understand why the person feels compelled to twist the truth - to prevent a loss of money - but it still stinks. Some examples of the kinds of lies we hear on a regular basis are things like, "I have only been here for five minutes." Nah, they've been there for over two hours and the chalk doesn't lie. Or, "I moved it." This one gets a bit tricky because if the chalk mark is now on top of the tire, yes, they moved it - a few inches. So technically it's really more of a half-truth, but they're still going to be cited for it. Or how about, "This isn't Tuesday, it's Wednesday." I had a guy argue with me for ten minutes trying to psych me out into thinking it was the wrong day and he didn't deserve the street sweeping ticket. Of course, the day of the week is printed right on the ticket, but I have to give him a point or two for trying, fruitless as it was.
Lies can also take other forms too. Take for example, the note. People will leave notes on their cars when they park them in the sweeper zone and can't be bothered to get up early and move the damn thing, or they've gone out of town to visit Grandma and they can't be bothered to move the damn thing, or they are simply so dumb they think it's Wednesday and they don't think they have to MOVE THE DAMN THING! These notes can range from such excuses (or lies) as "My battery is dead" (More like your brain is dead.) Or, "Can't find the keys." (Did you look up your butt?) Or simply, "Won't start." (Then, push it.) By the way, we have to honor these pathetic notes because, well, batteries do die when a person leaves their lights on overnight, say, or the car has no battery in the first place. However, if we see the same car with the same note on the following week, it gets a ticket. We now know you are out of town visiting Grandma. But we do hope her lumbago is feeling better.
The worst case happened a few years ago. A young woman was in the red zone near the post office. She was in the post office and her large doggie was walking around on the back seat. I pull up, she comes out and she turns red in the face (redder than the red zone, in fact), makes tiny fists with her little hands, storms over to me like a drunken sailor on shore leave and says, "Are you going to give me a ticket?" "Yes, ma'am. You can't stop in the red." "But my dog is dying and I'm taking him to the vet." "So, you stopped at the post office to....what? Mail his will to his lawyer?" The dog did not look sick at all. As I said, it was walking around on the back seat acting dog-like. By this time, steam was coming out of the petite woman's ears. I started getting angry, which is never a good thing for us to do. The more Vulcan-like we can be about our jobs the better. But the way she approached me, frankly, I thought she was going to hit me so the fight or flight response welled up in me and since we can't flee, we go into fight mode. What happened was, I actually let her go - a decision I regret bitterly to this day. And guess what? She didn't go to any vet's office. She drove away fast and turned up into one of the residential streets. I was so pissed off, that what I said when I got back into my vehicle cannot be shared here.
We know our job is not welcomed by a large majority of the driving public. Just don't look at me and lie. We are human and we don't like it. And we always know.
10-7
Lies can also take other forms too. Take for example, the note. People will leave notes on their cars when they park them in the sweeper zone and can't be bothered to get up early and move the damn thing, or they've gone out of town to visit Grandma and they can't be bothered to move the damn thing, or they are simply so dumb they think it's Wednesday and they don't think they have to MOVE THE DAMN THING! These notes can range from such excuses (or lies) as "My battery is dead" (More like your brain is dead.) Or, "Can't find the keys." (Did you look up your butt?) Or simply, "Won't start." (Then, push it.) By the way, we have to honor these pathetic notes because, well, batteries do die when a person leaves their lights on overnight, say, or the car has no battery in the first place. However, if we see the same car with the same note on the following week, it gets a ticket. We now know you are out of town visiting Grandma. But we do hope her lumbago is feeling better.
The worst case happened a few years ago. A young woman was in the red zone near the post office. She was in the post office and her large doggie was walking around on the back seat. I pull up, she comes out and she turns red in the face (redder than the red zone, in fact), makes tiny fists with her little hands, storms over to me like a drunken sailor on shore leave and says, "Are you going to give me a ticket?" "Yes, ma'am. You can't stop in the red." "But my dog is dying and I'm taking him to the vet." "So, you stopped at the post office to....what? Mail his will to his lawyer?" The dog did not look sick at all. As I said, it was walking around on the back seat acting dog-like. By this time, steam was coming out of the petite woman's ears. I started getting angry, which is never a good thing for us to do. The more Vulcan-like we can be about our jobs the better. But the way she approached me, frankly, I thought she was going to hit me so the fight or flight response welled up in me and since we can't flee, we go into fight mode. What happened was, I actually let her go - a decision I regret bitterly to this day. And guess what? She didn't go to any vet's office. She drove away fast and turned up into one of the residential streets. I was so pissed off, that what I said when I got back into my vehicle cannot be shared here.
We know our job is not welcomed by a large majority of the driving public. Just don't look at me and lie. We are human and we don't like it. And we always know.
10-7
Monday, October 24, 2011
I have a code
You may have noticed (those of you who are paying any attention whatsoever), that I sign off all of my blog posts with the police code 10-7. That means I'm Out of Service, or I'm done for the day and I'm not answering if you call me on this here radio. Take your pick. We use a lot of codes in the policing biz, so as a public menace, I mean service, I thought I'd tell you what some of the other codes mean. At least, the ones we use in my little town. They differ from state to state and department to department. For example, if I'm going Code 7 that means I'm out of service so I can stuff some food into my face. In some Florida cities Code 7 means there is a dead body, so you can see why you wouldn't want to mix those up. By the way, Code 7.8 means the food at this restaurant tastes like a dead body, so don't eat here.
So, here are some (mercifully for you not all) of our codes:
Code 3 - Emergency (or Come Save My Ass Using Lights and Sirens)
Code 4 - No Further Assistance Needed (I'm cool. Y'all can chill)
Code 5 - Stake Out - Other units stay away
Code 5.1 - Steaks Done - All units come and get 'em
Code 57 - Bring steak sauce
Code 6 - I'm out for investigation
Code 6.9 - I'm out for a good time
Now, there are a lot of Code 6s so they use names to designate between them. Such as:
Code 6 David - Subject is armed and dangerous
Code 6 Pooh - I need new pants
Code 6 Jeffrey Dahmer - Someone ate the subject
Code 6 Robert - Sex registrant
Code 6 Robert Plant - Hotel room wrecker
Code 6 Sam - Vehicle is stolen
Code 6 Damn! - My vehicle is stolen
Code 6 Victor- Violent offender
Code 6 Iwiwi - I wish I was invisible
Code 10 - Only unit available
Code 10.5 - Are there any single female units available?
Code 867-5309 - Jenny's number
Code 35 - Infectious disease
Code 35.9 - Forget Jenny
These are but a few. Come back next time and I'll go through the 10 codes. Until then,
10-7 (now you know)
So, here are some (mercifully for you not all) of our codes:
Code 3 - Emergency (or Come Save My Ass Using Lights and Sirens)
Code 4 - No Further Assistance Needed (I'm cool. Y'all can chill)
Code 5 - Stake Out - Other units stay away
Code 5.1 - Steaks Done - All units come and get 'em
Code 57 - Bring steak sauce
Code 6 - I'm out for investigation
Code 6.9 - I'm out for a good time
Now, there are a lot of Code 6s so they use names to designate between them. Such as:
Code 6 David - Subject is armed and dangerous
Code 6 Pooh - I need new pants
Code 6 Jeffrey Dahmer - Someone ate the subject
Code 6 Robert - Sex registrant
Code 6 Robert Plant - Hotel room wrecker
Code 6 Sam - Vehicle is stolen
Code 6 Damn! - My vehicle is stolen
Code 6 Victor- Violent offender
Code 6 Iwiwi - I wish I was invisible
Code 10 - Only unit available
Code 10.5 - Are there any single female units available?
Code 867-5309 - Jenny's number
Code 35 - Infectious disease
Code 35.9 - Forget Jenny
These are but a few. Come back next time and I'll go through the 10 codes. Until then,
10-7 (now you know)
Thursday, October 20, 2011
High Times and Misdemeanors
Hello all you wonderful citizens,
Well, today I had a first on this job. After almost nine years as a Parking Control Officer, I was impounding a car today and I found drugs inside! Well, a drug. Well, a little pot. But still! Okay, here's what happened:
I was looking for a different car I had seen while tooling around whose tags looked like they were expired in 2010. So, I circled the block and came up a side street. Looky there! An SUV from, da da da dah! Texas. I always check the vehicles from Texas because they are notorious for not registering their cars in Texas or when they leave Texas (Now you know one of the reasons I'm rooting for the Cardinals in the World Series). Sure enough the reg was out of date from February of 2011. Oops. So, I called for the tow truck, he got there and he started hooking the car up. Now, the police have requested that we PCOs do a fairly thorough inventory of the vehicle we are impounding - outside and in. This is so no one can claim that the tow truck driver put a dent in the thing or that something was stolen from inside. The driver had almost finished when I figured that the vehicle owner was probably in one of the nearby houses and we should perhaps take the thing around the corner and finish up away from the house. Either the owner will appear or a neighbor will think they are helping by emerging, going over and knocking on the owner's door and warning them. This is a big pain to us, naturally.
So, we take the SUV around the corner to be away from prying eyes. We open it. Of course, it had an alarm. Great. What we didn't know was, the owner was in the very office building that we were parked in front of visiting his father. Oops. Now by this time I had looked inside the vehicle and found a small container of pot (which smelled pretty righteous - of course I've only been told that's how it smells) which had a medical marijuana label on it (Chuckle. Yeah, right). So, I had to do my duty and call for an officer to come and take the offending substance away. I did so and just then, the kid comes out and says, what are you guys doing? I mean, what does it LOOK like we're doing? He says, can't we talk about this, can't we do something about this, can't I take care of this now? All the while I'm thinking he really must be nervous about that grass in the center console. I tell him, no, I'm impounding the car. So he gets on his cell and calls his dad in the office building. His dad comes out and starts making gorilla faces and postures, you know, huffing and puffing and all that. Then, I kid you not, he climbs up onto the back of the tow truck just like King Kong and says he's not coming down and we'd better release the vehicle, blah blah, grunt grunt. I'm surprised he didn't start pounding his chest. He was trying to scare both of us but he was not succeeding. By this time, his kid (cut from the same simian cloth) had gone into the car, retrieved the pot and stuffed it down his pants. He takes off across the small side street where two of his buddies are, gives them the dope and they take off down the street.
Well, the cops arrive (and I do mean cops. Three squad cars and a motor officer - the Sarge) and I tell them the whole shot and they do what cops do best - they intimidate the shit out of people (not me, of course). They control the whole situation beautifully. I think they fined the kid for the pot (he admitted he had some in the car, the dummy) and they put the old man on notice to keep it together and let us (me and the tow truck driver) do our jobs. Then the Sarge (thanks, Sarge) says, are you guys done? We say yes and he says, then you can take off. And we do.
For the first time finding drugs in a vehicle (for me anyway. Some of my colleagues have before), the whole thing turned out to be a lot of fun. The only thing I haven't seen yet is a dead body in a car. I'm thinking that would be decidedly not as much fun.
Ten-Seven
Well, today I had a first on this job. After almost nine years as a Parking Control Officer, I was impounding a car today and I found drugs inside! Well, a drug. Well, a little pot. But still! Okay, here's what happened:
I was looking for a different car I had seen while tooling around whose tags looked like they were expired in 2010. So, I circled the block and came up a side street. Looky there! An SUV from, da da da dah! Texas. I always check the vehicles from Texas because they are notorious for not registering their cars in Texas or when they leave Texas (Now you know one of the reasons I'm rooting for the Cardinals in the World Series). Sure enough the reg was out of date from February of 2011. Oops. So, I called for the tow truck, he got there and he started hooking the car up. Now, the police have requested that we PCOs do a fairly thorough inventory of the vehicle we are impounding - outside and in. This is so no one can claim that the tow truck driver put a dent in the thing or that something was stolen from inside. The driver had almost finished when I figured that the vehicle owner was probably in one of the nearby houses and we should perhaps take the thing around the corner and finish up away from the house. Either the owner will appear or a neighbor will think they are helping by emerging, going over and knocking on the owner's door and warning them. This is a big pain to us, naturally.
So, we take the SUV around the corner to be away from prying eyes. We open it. Of course, it had an alarm. Great. What we didn't know was, the owner was in the very office building that we were parked in front of visiting his father. Oops. Now by this time I had looked inside the vehicle and found a small container of pot (which smelled pretty righteous - of course I've only been told that's how it smells) which had a medical marijuana label on it (Chuckle. Yeah, right). So, I had to do my duty and call for an officer to come and take the offending substance away. I did so and just then, the kid comes out and says, what are you guys doing? I mean, what does it LOOK like we're doing? He says, can't we talk about this, can't we do something about this, can't I take care of this now? All the while I'm thinking he really must be nervous about that grass in the center console. I tell him, no, I'm impounding the car. So he gets on his cell and calls his dad in the office building. His dad comes out and starts making gorilla faces and postures, you know, huffing and puffing and all that. Then, I kid you not, he climbs up onto the back of the tow truck just like King Kong and says he's not coming down and we'd better release the vehicle, blah blah, grunt grunt. I'm surprised he didn't start pounding his chest. He was trying to scare both of us but he was not succeeding. By this time, his kid (cut from the same simian cloth) had gone into the car, retrieved the pot and stuffed it down his pants. He takes off across the small side street where two of his buddies are, gives them the dope and they take off down the street.
Well, the cops arrive (and I do mean cops. Three squad cars and a motor officer - the Sarge) and I tell them the whole shot and they do what cops do best - they intimidate the shit out of people (not me, of course). They control the whole situation beautifully. I think they fined the kid for the pot (he admitted he had some in the car, the dummy) and they put the old man on notice to keep it together and let us (me and the tow truck driver) do our jobs. Then the Sarge (thanks, Sarge) says, are you guys done? We say yes and he says, then you can take off. And we do.
For the first time finding drugs in a vehicle (for me anyway. Some of my colleagues have before), the whole thing turned out to be a lot of fun. The only thing I haven't seen yet is a dead body in a car. I'm thinking that would be decidedly not as much fun.
Ten-Seven
Monday, October 17, 2011
One Way Or Another
I love this song by Blondie. It could almost be our PCO theme song. "One way or another I'm gonna getcha, I'll getcha, I'll getcha getcha getcha getcha....." (Spell checker hates that last line) This song brings up the notion that criminals (and no, I don't think you errant parkers are really criminals but it's a useful term for the purpose of this post) always make some mistake and eventually get caught. As Rod Serling might have said (oooh, I am bringing up the cultural references today, aren't I?), "Case in point":
I marked the two hour zones all down one of the main drags in our little town, and of course came back to pick up those marks a little more than two hours later as I am wont to do (as I'm supposed to do actually). Well sir (or ma'am), sure enough I see a nice big juicy chalk mark on a tire and pull up behind the vehicle to cite it when lo and behold! I notice that the year tab is from 2007! Now, the 07s are the same color as the 12s (Hey DMV! Yeah, I'm talking to you guys! Can't you add a couple more colors to your pallet of year tabs? I mean it. Spend the cash. It would help us out a lot. Thanks. [They won't listen]), so, I get to not only cite it for the expired registration (AND the two hour violation), I figure I'll tow it away too. Four years is a wee bit - just a tad - too long to let it go. Actually you only get 6 months, then we can take it the next day.
The lady came out of the store and when I gave her the bad news, to her credit, she accepted her fate. That's rather unusual but she knew she did wrong. And get this, she started to get it registered in 2009 but never completed the process! I mean, she had two years and then another two years to save up the money! Come on! But, her mistake was not moving her car out of the two hour zone. I might have come by and seen the color of the tab but NOT THE YEAR and driven right on by.
Maybe it is criminal in a way. Not to the city or to the State of California, but to herself.
Where's my Blondie cd?
10-7
I marked the two hour zones all down one of the main drags in our little town, and of course came back to pick up those marks a little more than two hours later as I am wont to do (as I'm supposed to do actually). Well sir (or ma'am), sure enough I see a nice big juicy chalk mark on a tire and pull up behind the vehicle to cite it when lo and behold! I notice that the year tab is from 2007! Now, the 07s are the same color as the 12s (Hey DMV! Yeah, I'm talking to you guys! Can't you add a couple more colors to your pallet of year tabs? I mean it. Spend the cash. It would help us out a lot. Thanks. [They won't listen]), so, I get to not only cite it for the expired registration (AND the two hour violation), I figure I'll tow it away too. Four years is a wee bit - just a tad - too long to let it go. Actually you only get 6 months, then we can take it the next day.
The lady came out of the store and when I gave her the bad news, to her credit, she accepted her fate. That's rather unusual but she knew she did wrong. And get this, she started to get it registered in 2009 but never completed the process! I mean, she had two years and then another two years to save up the money! Come on! But, her mistake was not moving her car out of the two hour zone. I might have come by and seen the color of the tab but NOT THE YEAR and driven right on by.
Maybe it is criminal in a way. Not to the city or to the State of California, but to herself.
Where's my Blondie cd?
10-7
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Crossing Guard Duty
Hello all,
One aspect of my job that I have yet to mention is when they put us on a corner to fill in for one of the Crossing Guards. You know, those nice folks (mostly elderly, some Hispanic, some... who can figure it out?) who make sure your kiddies get across the street safely at a school. Well, today I had the opportunity to fill in, as one of the female Crossing Guards, as my supervisor put it, "threw up on her corner." Niiiiiice. I suppose I can understand it as we had today what I hope will be the last of the 100 degree days (!!!!!) here in SoCal. It shouldn't be 100 degrees in mid-October, thank you very much. Intelligent Design, my ass. Anyway, I went there expecting to find a pile of puke there, baking and bubbling away in the hot sun (Sorry. I'm truly sorry about that). But, to my relief (and yours I'm sure), there was nothing burning up on the sidewalk but me.
Now, there are some aspects of this assignment that I actually enjoy. I like kids (not that way, you pervert). I enjoy teasing with them and trying to make them laugh. Sometimes, it actually works! For example, if a kid comes by snacking on an ice cream bar, as some did today, I will say to them, "Oooh, ice cream! Did you bring one for me?" When they say no, I tell them it's okay because I already had my lunch and I'm getting too fat anyway. Sometimes I can get a chuckle out of a kid depending on their age. Today a young boy asked me, "Why are you wearing pants?" Well, I was just as shocked as you probably are. But he was young and I sussed out his meaning right away. I thought I'd kid around first though and told him, Well, if I don't wear pants I'll get fired, or go to jail. His mom was laughing. Then I said, you mean how come I'm not wearing shorts because it's hot, right? He nodded. I told him it's none of his damned business why I wasn't wearing shorts and if he wanted to get ahead in life he better not go around asking older men that question. No, I didn't say that. I do actually want to keep my job.... for now.
The other nice thing about doing Crossing Guard duty is looking at the pretty, young mommies (hm, now I am getting pervy, aren't I?) or as they are sometimes called here in InternetLand, MILFs. I won't explain this acronym to you because I suspect that most of you already know what it means. For those who do not however, I'll explain it this way: Mommies I'd Like To Spend The Rest Of My Life With or MILTSTROMLWs. There, that's better. Some times these MILTs, as I call them, will say hi, chat and/or flirt and it's fun. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages (Grannies not allowed though. Let's be civil here, okay?) I don't mean to be sexist about this thing but, I mean, I don't look at the daddies now do I? Wait, this piece was supposed to be about protecting the children from maniacs who shouldn't be driving in the first place, not me fantasizing about elbowing their dads aside and taking his place at the old hearth in the living room. But, what the hell. They don't pay me enough so fantasy has got to be one of the fringe benefits. Right?
Ten-Seven
One aspect of my job that I have yet to mention is when they put us on a corner to fill in for one of the Crossing Guards. You know, those nice folks (mostly elderly, some Hispanic, some... who can figure it out?) who make sure your kiddies get across the street safely at a school. Well, today I had the opportunity to fill in, as one of the female Crossing Guards, as my supervisor put it, "threw up on her corner." Niiiiiice. I suppose I can understand it as we had today what I hope will be the last of the 100 degree days (!!!!!) here in SoCal. It shouldn't be 100 degrees in mid-October, thank you very much. Intelligent Design, my ass. Anyway, I went there expecting to find a pile of puke there, baking and bubbling away in the hot sun (Sorry. I'm truly sorry about that). But, to my relief (and yours I'm sure), there was nothing burning up on the sidewalk but me.
Now, there are some aspects of this assignment that I actually enjoy. I like kids (not that way, you pervert). I enjoy teasing with them and trying to make them laugh. Sometimes, it actually works! For example, if a kid comes by snacking on an ice cream bar, as some did today, I will say to them, "Oooh, ice cream! Did you bring one for me?" When they say no, I tell them it's okay because I already had my lunch and I'm getting too fat anyway. Sometimes I can get a chuckle out of a kid depending on their age. Today a young boy asked me, "Why are you wearing pants?" Well, I was just as shocked as you probably are. But he was young and I sussed out his meaning right away. I thought I'd kid around first though and told him, Well, if I don't wear pants I'll get fired, or go to jail. His mom was laughing. Then I said, you mean how come I'm not wearing shorts because it's hot, right? He nodded. I told him it's none of his damned business why I wasn't wearing shorts and if he wanted to get ahead in life he better not go around asking older men that question. No, I didn't say that. I do actually want to keep my job.... for now.
The other nice thing about doing Crossing Guard duty is looking at the pretty, young mommies (hm, now I am getting pervy, aren't I?) or as they are sometimes called here in InternetLand, MILFs. I won't explain this acronym to you because I suspect that most of you already know what it means. For those who do not however, I'll explain it this way: Mommies I'd Like To Spend The Rest Of My Life With or MILTSTROMLWs. There, that's better. Some times these MILTs, as I call them, will say hi, chat and/or flirt and it's fun. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages (Grannies not allowed though. Let's be civil here, okay?) I don't mean to be sexist about this thing but, I mean, I don't look at the daddies now do I? Wait, this piece was supposed to be about protecting the children from maniacs who shouldn't be driving in the first place, not me fantasizing about elbowing their dads aside and taking his place at the old hearth in the living room. But, what the hell. They don't pay me enough so fantasy has got to be one of the fringe benefits. Right?
Ten-Seven
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