The New Kids At Work Aren't Getting Any Smarter

The following conversation took place a few days ago:

Conversation with me and Officer Dimwit

Me: What do you have?

OD: *deer in the headlights look*

M: *slowly* What. Do. You. Have?

OD: (clutching citation & duffle bag) Um, a bag?

M: (resisting urge to slap him) Is it evidence or personal property?

OD: Ummmmm

M: You have to pick one.

OD: *hesitantly* Well, they wouldn’t take it at the jail…

M: So, it’s personal property then?

OD: Ummm, no it’s for safekeeping.

M: *barely resisting the urge to facepalm in front of him* Yes, that’s what personal property means.

OD: *blank look*

M: Does it contain any food, money, or medication?

OD: *blank look*

M: *repeats question*

OD: Ummm, no there’s no food or money.

M: What about medication?

OD: *Another blank look*

M: *wearily* Dude, work with me. Is there any medication in the bag?

OD: *suddenly brightly* Oh, you mean drugs?!?

M: *weeping silently inside my head* Yes. Got any?!?

OD: Um, gee, I don’t think so…

We repeated this process when I asked about electronics like cell phones or e-readers. It took 20 minutes just to get that much out of him. Then I had to all but beg for the citation. He had a death grip on the bag and the paperwork and it was like he wasn’t actually going to give me either of them.

Where are they getting these people?!?

This is what happens when I work a double shift and the office is TOO DAMN HOT

So, around the beginning of the shift, I posted on Facebook that the office was too hot and if it didn't start cooling off, I was taking off my pants. (I did NOT mention the shorts I had in my car to change into)

The responses to that ranged from "Whoo-hoo!" (thank you, Martin) to "Pictures or we don't believe you." (Be careful what you ask for)

About 3 hours later the temperature had actually RISEN 3 degrees, so the jeans came off. The shorts went on, and to amuse my friends, I took and posted a picture of my legs propped up on the desk. (From mid-thigh down so it looks like I'm running around the office in my underwear)

About 30 seconds after I posted it, my cell phone started ringing, the office phone started ringing, and my FB feed went nuts. The smarter of my friends figured it out, but still thought it was hysterically funny, especially as I've been in a very down cycle lately.
The more obnoxious of my officer friends started calling people and telling them to look at it. I've also been informed that a van load of guys on a stakeout nearly blew their cover when one found it and screamed "Holy shit, Mickey has lost her motherf'ing mind and is getting nekkid in the property room!!!" Amusingly enough, HIS SGT. was one of the first people to respond online.

So, if nothing else, I have at least had some fun tonight and made it go by a little quicker. And I'm sure I'll get an earful from my bosses on Monday...except for the one on my friends list who is probably choking on his beer.

If I ever figure out how to add photos to my blog, I'll share that shot. :-)

The Insurance People Are Nosy Idiots

So, I've had a problem with eczema/psoraisis for most of my life. Had an appointment with Dr B today and mentioned to him that it has now started appearing around my eyes, which really bothers me. (one of my biggest fears is going blind. If I can't see to read, just kill me) He emailed in a Rx for a lotion that is ok to use on my face.

10 minutes after he sent the Rx in, the pharmacy called. Apparently there is some new thing with insurance companies, and if a cream or lotion is prescribed they want the patient to tell them what it is for. WTF? So I said, perfectly seriously, that I was going to spread it on crackers and serve it for appetizers at dinner tonight. There was a dead silence for about a minute, and then the pharmacist exploded into laughter. "Best answer I've heard yet!"

I mean, seriously. It's a LOTION. What do they think I'm going to do with it?

Sorry about the griping post, but I have to be me, and this was too dumb to keep to myself.

Stupid Moments in My Employment History, part 4

Although there have been several accountings of stupidity I've encountered at my current job (see anything tagged Dear Officer, for example) here's a story from my first year. Our supervisor at the time was a very nice, but only marginally competent woman (JT) who had been promoted well past the point of her ability simply because there was nobody else who wanted her job. As a result, she would harp on minutiae that she felt was within the range of her competence/control and drive the rest of us crazy. She was notorious for sending out incomprehensible emails and for being cheap & stingy with office supplies. I asked for a pack of post-it notes (she kept all supplies under lock & key in her office) and was asked what I had done with the pad I had been given 6 weeks before. "Um, I used it up and need a new one?" She only had large ones in the stash, so I was told to cut them in half to make them last longer. Seriously.

Another issue with her was the ordering of items we needed to do our jobs. I learned quickly that you had to tell JT we needed to order labels/envelopes/whatever WELL before we ran out or we'd never get them. Of course she'd still drag her feet about ordering whatever you asked for because "There's a whole case of them in the back." One of the worst things was the sharps containers...the plastic safety tubes that we give officers to put needles in so that nobody gets stuck with a possibly (probably) contaminated needle. She would wait until we were completely out and then berate us for not telling her we needed them. *headdesk*

We were in the process of packing & organizing things to be moved into our lovely new space. (sarcasm) One of the jobs I got stuck with was cleaning out a storage closet that only our office had a key to. It was where we kept cases of citations and random other items that we doled out to officers. Usually when she wasn't there to say no- she thought we should keep everything in case someone needed it. The whole point of them asking for stuff was that they DID need it, but that subtlety eluded her. We'd been out of the sharps containers for almost a month and JT kept dragging her feet on ordering more because "we're moving and they might not get here before we go." It's not like having them delivered after we were gone would have been a problem- we'd been in the basement of HQ and someone could easily be sent back there to get them as our new building was only 10 minutes away.

Anyway, as I dragged out boxes of old manuals from the 70's that were covered in dust 6 inches thick, and other crap of that ilk, I made a major discovery. SIX unopened cases of sharps containers! *happydance* I carried them into the office and gleefully cried "Hey, look what I found!!!" My coworkers were thrilled. Our Sgt & new Lt were laughing at our joy. Then JT came in.

"Oh no," she said, horrified. "We can't use those. They might belong to somebody. Go put them back."

She was serious. WHO THE HELL WOULD THEY BELONG TO IF NOT US?!? We were the only ones with a key to that closet. The boxes were covered with dust, had obviously been there a long time, and we needed the damned things. She was adamant that we shouldn't use them because they might belong to another department. Our Lt finally had to type a letter saying he would take responsibility for us using the containers if someone came looking for them and had a fit before she (reluctantly) agreed to let us keep them.

I can't make this stuff up, folks...

Stupid Moments in My Employment History- part 3

This one happened about 18 months into my employment at the current job. I came back from a long weekend and was immediately summoned into the office. I was presented with a write-up form and told to sign it. Um, WTF?

Well, it seems that someone smarted off to an officer that came in to release some property. It was personal property under one name, and he wanted to sign a release for someone else to be able to pick it up. (correct procedure in a case like that) He was told he couldn't do that, the form was thrown away, and the person who was supposed to be able to pick it up was furious when they came down and were told they couldn't have it. They called and complained to the officer's commander, who yelled at him, and he called in the complaint on "me."


I say "me", because I wouldn't have done that. I asked what made them think it was me and was told that the officer gave them my name. I asked when it happened and was told that he came down on Friday (my regular day off at the time) and the complaint was made to his commander and then my supervisor on Monday. (which I had taken off)

I asked if the officer could have been mistaken about who he talked to. "No, he knew your name." Did he actually say it was me? "It had to be you, he knew your name."

I don't work Fridays, so it couldn't have been me. "It HAD to be you. The officer knew your name."

I was in another state on Friday, which is my normal day off, and it couldn't possibly have been me. "Are you saying the officer lied?" No, I'm saying the officer was mistaken about who the clerk involved was becasue I WASN'T HERE. "But he knew your name."

I have SIGNED credit card receipts from the gas stations & restuarants I went to in 4 different states for the 4 days I was off and it couldn't possibly have been me who did this. Give me 24 hours and I can get you video footage of me at the WWE events I was attending and a signed affadavit from Vince Mc Mahon. "But the officer said it was YOU."

Jeebus. Fine. Have the officer come down here and look me in the eye while he tells me that I did that on a day I wasn't in the freaking state. "We can't call officers down here for something like that. They're busy." The hell we can't! I am not going to be railroaded into taking the blame for something it was literally impossible for me to have done and I will not accept being written up for it.

My Sgt at the time overheard the argument and came into the office. SHE called the officer, who it turned out was off that day. She got his home number and called him there. When she finally got him on the phone, she asked him to describe the clerk who had created the problem instead of just giving her name. Lo & behold, the description he gave was NOT of me. It did match a coworker that I had been having problems with. Turns out the officer had our names mixed up. 

I could understand and accept that they would believe it was me on the basis of hearsay. If someone gives you a name, it's logical to think they know who/what they're talking about. But when an employee shows you concrete proof that they were not present for an encounter, WHY would you keep insisting they were at fault instead of trying to find out who actually was?!?  Oh, and the officer even came down later to apologize and told my supervisor that he had the totally wrong clerk.

Why do I stay at jobs where I get treated like this? Because I'm an idiot.

Not a Good Day- follow up to Odds & Ends

Managed to drag my butt out of bed early and met mom at Peking Bistro for lunch. I have been thinking about that Mongolian Bacon & the meat/vegetable buns for months now and was finally going to get them. Wrong. They’ve discontinued the buns (but they’re still on the menu) and they were out of the meat for the other dish. Seriously?!? Settled for Mongolian Beef instead, but it wasn’t what I wanted.




The drive back across town took forever because there are snow flurries and everyone was acting like they’d never seen them before. I got to Starbucks at 2:10 and it was 2:22 before I got my drink. Luckily it was the one close to the office.



Got to work and the lot was full and it took me 5 minutes to get around the building to my usual spot because people parked like idiots again. As I’m pulling in, a police car coming from the other direction at full speed almost hit me. We got out of our cars at the same time and he started yelling at me about how I couldn’t park there because that spot is a loading dock. I said it used to be, but that door is now the back of the elevator shaft & doesn’t get used. The sign is still there, but it’s rusty and hanging by one nail. I park there every day. He said he didn’t care if I usually parked there, he was telling me I couldn’t park there now. I said fine, but kept going to the building as I was almost late. He followed me and said “Are you going to leave your car there?” I told him I needed to go in and let my boss know I was there. (didn’t mention that I was going to have my boss go tell him to leave me alone) He said “fine, but if it’s still there when I come back out, I’m giving you a ticket.” Then he pushes past me to get into the building first, walks into the officer room and tries to pull the door shut on me when I reached for it. I let him shut it and then badged in and walked in behind him. Claudia was in the lobby and said to him “Um, she actually works here, so you didn’t need to do that.”



I walked in past him and went to get my Sgt & Lt. I told them about his threats and they went out to deal with him. Well, he ran out the door after Claudia told him I worked here, leaving his rookie that he’d come down with standing there with his mouth hanging open. They caught up with him in the parking lot, told him that I park there and have parked there 4-6 days a week for the last 6 years and they’re fine with it. He then told them that I got nasty and swore at him and that’s why he threatened to give me a ticket. So then they had to come in and yell at me- they did admit that they think he just said it because he knew he was busted for being an ass, but they had to act on it since he DID say it. I wish I’d thought to point out that HE was parked in front of a sign that clearly said NO PARKING.

Stupid Moments In My Employment History- part 2

Shortly after the heart attack incident, our bookstore moved. The property owners were re-developing the property and we were being moved into a 3 level area across the lot from our existing location. We were literally loading carts with books and pushing them across the broken asphalt of the parking lot to the new building and/or hauling bookcases. Well, some of us were. The in-crowd got to sit on stools and supervise.

Much to my amazement, I managed to get through the entire experience without any injuries more severe than broken nails and numerous bruises. So, of course, I tripped over a box in the warehouse of the new building and severely sprained my ankle AFTER we had re-opened for business.

Did you catch the bit about the new building being 3 levels? We now had a customer service desk on each level as well as the main cash register bank on the middle floor. The lower level was the smallest area, the music/video department and not heavily trafficked during the week. The other two desks were where the bulk of the books were and involved a lot of walking to get to anything. Also, the elevator wasn't working yet, so we had to take the stairs to each level. Since I was under doctor's orders (which my bosses had copies of, since it was a worker's comp issue) to walk as little as possible and keep weight off that ankle, I asked if I could either be assigned to the registers or lower service desk as much as possible until it healed. I could sit on a bar stool at either of those locations without it being obstrusive and still work. I also offered to do the jobs most people hated- stickering/destickering best sellers, pricing gift & accessory items and the like, since they needed to be done and it would be easy for me to work on them at either spot since I couldn't run around the store to help customers. Ideally, I would have stayed home until the ankle was better, but we didn't have paid sick leave and I couldn't afford the time off, so I thought I was offering some reasonable compromises.

The first day, good old Cleve (remember him?) took great delight in scheduling me at Main Service and Upper Service for the whole day. We all knew this was deliberate, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of begging for a different assignment. I *DID* ask if I could have a stool to sit on between customers and this was grudgingly allowed.

Day 2- Scheduled for the two heaviest service desks all day again. Gritted my teeth, got my stool, and tried to tough it out. Customers saw me limping around as I slowly & painfully made my way around the store to fill requests or show them where things were and asked why my bosses didn't give me an easier job. I mumbled something noncommittal and soldiered on. Until I came back from lunch and the stool was gone. Cleve & Bonnie (our GM) were waiting for me and he had a truimphant sneer on his face. Bonnie reminded me that employees were not supposed to have stools on the sales floor because sitting around was against (unwritten) policy. Um, I have a sprained ankle and I'm NOT supposed to be standing on it. "Did you ask if you could have a stool today?" Nooooo, I kind of thought it was obvious that I was going to need one wherever I was assigned until my ankle healed. "Well, you can't just take it upon yourself to bring stools onto the sales floor. You HAVE to ask EVERY day until you're better. Since you didn't ask today, this is going to have to be written up for your personnel file and we're taking the stool away for the rest of your shift." Seriously?

Day 3- same as before, but I asked for permission to have my stool. "How long is this going to be going on?" Um, until my ankle heals, and every day that I spend limping around this damned store, up & down stairs is going to make it that much longer for it to heal. It might help if I could be assigned to the register or lower service as I requested. "You don't decide schedules or how jobs are assigned, that's our job." And then I was written up for insubordination.

Day 4- same schedule, but amazingly none of the stools could be found when I went to get one. Right. I've had enough of this. So, unbeknownst to me, had one of the other assistant managers. HE called the owners and raised hell. A very panicked Rahm (one of the other owners) raced into the store and saw me limping back across the sales floor to the desk from a trip up to level 3. Cleve & Bonnie were summoned to the offices upstairs. 20 minutes later I was sent to lower service with a stool and told that I would be assigned down there until the doctor cleared me to be running around. Rahm not only read the managers the riot act about violating my doctor's orders, he removed both notes from my file and made them come apologize to me on the main floor in front of everyone. I graciously accepted that (okay, there was some smirking) and reiterated my offers to work at the registers if needed (as long as I could have a stool there) and the stickering projects. Rahm was pleased that I was willing to try to do things to make myself useful while on restricted duty and commented to Bonnie & Cleve that THEY should have thought of things like that themselves. (yeah, still not endearing me to the bosses)

Of course I knew that the ONLY reason Rahm was taking my side is that he was afraid I would file a lawsuit against the store. I found out later that D (the manager who called him on my behalf and who was in law school at the time) pointed out that there could be legal ramifications  for them violating doctor orders, especially on a workman's comp case. Heh.

Gun Control Is More Than Just Hitting Your Target

Time for the unusual- a serious post from yours truly. This is one of those hot-button topics that I would normally try to avoid, but I've given this a lot of thought and think I can talk about it rationally here. Live & in person, not so much, but here should work. The points I am going to try to make are not political (at least I don't think they are) and I am not saying that NOBODY should be allowed to have a gun. That said, let's give this a try...

My first point is addressed to the people who scream that "we have a constitutional right to bear arms!" and think that it's a be-all/end-all answer. It isn't, at least not to me. At the time the Constitution was written, guns were not the same as they are today. The Founding Fathers didn't have semi-automatic weaponry. They had mostly single shot muzzle loaded weapons that had to be reloaded after every use. They also didn't have law enforcement the way we do today. When you think about people living on small, far-flung homesteads with predatory animals and disgruntled Indians (an argument for another time), it made sense for the people of that time to have weapons in their homes. There was no-one to call if someone broke into your house, or threatened your life in the woods, so you needed to be armed. I can understand and appreciate that. I also understand that it made hunting for food easier. Again, not a problem.

Now look at modern weaponry. With semi-automatic handguns, depending on the size of the clip, you can get anywhere from 10-30 shots off in a very short span of time. Revolvers are a bit more limited, but still allow for multiple shots. With modern law enforcement, I don't think that every citizen NEEDS to be armed to the teeth, but I can sort of understand the desire to have a gun for protection. (for the record, I neither have nor want one- with my temper I'd be in prison for murder when I shoot the first person to really piss me off. And anyway, I have a sword) What I do not understand is the people- especially those in larger cities, who have freaking arsenals in their homes.

Working for the police department, I see a LOT of guns come through my office. It honestly scares me to see some of the things that are brought in. We had a case where someone who lived literally ACROSS THE STREET FROM A DIVISION OFFICE was arrested and they found over 35 handguns and long guns in his house. Including an anti-tank gun that was as tall as me, weighed almost as much as me, and took two of us to haul into the gun cage. WTF? Was he expecting someone at Ft Knox to go rogue and drive to his house in a tank to get him? Some of the guns were legally registered to him. Most weren't. We've also seen rocket launchers (wish I was kidding), bazookas (still not kidding), and every kind of assault rifle you can think of. Many of these come in from drug dealers and other menaces, a surprising & saddening amount are taken from teenagers, but the ones that worry me are the people who are served with mental inquest warrants and have enough weaponry in their homes to protect Ft Knox.

Side moment of levity- I was giving a rookie & his training officer a tour of the building once, and the rookie asked about the large number of swords we have as evidence. (my favorite is the Excalibur replica, BTW) His PTO told the kid that the crazy people always seem to have swords. I looked him dead in the eye and said " *I* have a sword." Without missing a beat, he looked at his PO and screamed "OMG, RUN!!!"

What about people who hunt? Yes, I understand wanting to keep a rifle/shotgun for hunting purposes. I don't like the concept of hunting just for the sake of killing things. Most of the hunters I know personally hunt for the thrill, but they also only hunt things they (or someone they know) will eat. (I've got at least 5 officers who bring me venison during deer hunting season- I can eat it as long as it's not identifiable. Show me the whole dead deer and I won't be able to swallow a bite) What I don't understand is the people who have to have the most hi-tech rifle/shotgun they can get their hands on, complete with a scope that lets them see the individual legs on a flea on a critter's hind end from a mile away...or why they need more than one of them.

I'd keep going, but I think you get the point. What are your thoughts? Please remember that while I respect your right to your own opinion, I would prefer NOT to have any political ranting on my blog. Thanks!

Normal snarky, sarcastic, inane posting to resume next week...

The Fashion Industry is NUTS

So, thanks to health issues and my back & knee problems, my doctor has been really getting after me to lose weight. While I haven't lost as much as he'd like, I HAVE managed to lose 47 lbs in the last year. I'm still a big old heifer, but I'm working on it. Most of my weight loss is due to changes in diet- I don't like exercising, especially when I'm in chronic pain. I think it's a mental block, remembering how mean the other kids were in gym classes back in my younger schooldays, but I digress.

I had established a clothing moratorium for the year a few months ago, when I was trying to start decluttering and realized that most of the clothing piled up in the laundry room & spare room was stuff I either stopped wearing because I had gotten too fat for it, or was stuff I had simply forgotten I owned. There were also a lot of things that were basically duplicates- how many versions of black & purple t-shirts are there, and did I really need to hang on to ALL of them? So a LOT of stuff went to goodwill.

Just for giggles, I tried on a few of the things I had outgrown. Holy cow, they fit again!  Some of them even better than before! I still gave a fair chunk away (mostly things I wore when I worked in retail and/or used for LARP costumes), but kept some of the things I'm still likely to wear.

My current job is techincally clerical, but it's in kind of a warehouse environment. We can, and often do, handle large/dirty items, so jeans are the best clothing choice. Here's where things start getting a little tricky. Because I'm so tall AND fat, appropriately fitting pants of any style are hard to come by. And due to the occasional roughness of my job, I've had to throw away some damaged pairs. Even worse are the pairs I had to toss after my weight gain caused them to explode in ways that could not be repaired. I managed to find some replacements in the larger size- even though I was working on weight loss, I still had to wear something to work.

Well, now I've lost this weight, and my 'fat' jeans are WAAAAAAAAY too big. The pairs of jeans I had outgrown are all either about to fall apart from forcing myself into them even when I was too fat, or are actually slightly too big. *happy dance* So, since a nearby store that carried plus sizes appears to be having a going out of business sale, I thought I'd treat myself to a couple of new pairs of jeans. Not buying anything but jeans- the moratorium on everything else stands until I lose more weight & keep it off.  (Well, maybe a tie-dyed t-shirt or two. I've worn most of mine to bits)

So I went to this store- let's call them Mashin' Mug instead of giving them a plug- and hoped for the best. I've found good things there in the past, but there's also a lot of drek, and their sizes are fairly inconsistent. Also, WHO decides what is stylish? Weird colorblock combinations might pass for ok on a skinny girl, but don't work as well on Ample Annie. Not all fat girls want to wear clothes with sequins & beads, in eye-popping prints/colors that call attention to our figure flaws. NOBODY looks good in Capri pants and I'd give thanks daily if that look went away forever.  AND booty shorts- you know the ones that are so short & tight that they're basically glorified underwear- need to go away. Preferably for everyone, but especially plus sized versions. Just because you CAN make something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. Ditto for wearing it. Remember the eye trauma caused by biker shorts in the 90's? Same thing.

Where was I? Oh yeah, jeans. Nobody makes plain simple jeans any more either. You have to decide between skinny, boot leg, low waisted, wide legged, studded, embroidered, beaded, straight legged (as rare as intelligible lyrics in most rap ditties), acid wash, indigo, stonewashed, button-fly,  decaf, mocha, and whoops, I just took us to $tarbuck$. There are too many choices. Unless you're built like me, in which case you pretty much are stuck choosing whatever goes over your butt and can be zipped over your gut. Bonus points if they're miraculously the right length and/or you can bend over without mooning anyone, the pants exploding, or having a permanent zipper indentation on your stomach.

So, knowing the store's tendency to have erratic sizing, I found several styles of jeans to try on, and managed to get most of them in 3 sizes. My former fat size, the size I'm currently in which is a little loose, and a size down in a rush of optimism. I even managed to score a couple of pairs of Tall plus sizes which is as rare as a drama free day in the life of Lindsay Lohan. The lethargic dressing room attendant looked at the 12-15 pairs of jeans I was lugging and waved me in. So much for 5 items or less.

Anybody want to guess what happened next? No? Well, I'll tell you- NOTHING fit. Not one single frigging pair, not even in a 'not quite right, but I can make do' kind of way. The size down were WAY too small. The size up- aka fat me- were WAY too big. The size I currently wear were either too big or too small depending on the style of the jeans.

Do I need to explain how demoralizing that is? I walked into the store feeling good about myself for having lost 47 GADDAMNED POUNDS, and walked out feeling like a circus fat lady. Seriously, I was almost in tears. And the urge to go eat my way through a buffet and then a bakery was strong. Sanity, and sympathy from my mommy prevailed. I did have a bowl of ice cream, but just one, not the size of a soup tureen, and with no garnishes of any sort. 

Then I started thinking about the issue. I am NOT the problem. (not entirely) The fashion industry, who consider anything over a size 4 to be obese, is the problem. So I mentally composed this letter to Mashin Mug:

Dear Jackholes,

Sorry to hear you're going out of business. Actually, I'm not surprised. Your sizes have always been off, no matter what you claim, and you never stocked enough of the larger sizes to make it worth coming in and trying things on. Your failed experiment of mixing the plus sized items in with the juniors a few years ago did nothing to help. In fact, it made me homicidal to see a cute top in a size 2, only to discover the largest size you had in was a 16. It appeared to have that effect on a LOT of women, because that project didn't even last 4 months, did it?

I went in to your store hoping to spend a fair amount of money on some new jeans. What a shame that the same pair of jeans in 3 different sizes didn't fit. None of them were close enough to buy, even with your advertised 30-60% off sale. Oh, and one rack of t-shirts from the 70's marked 60% off isn't fooling anyone.  May I suggest a sign that says "These are crap, but they're cheap, so you know you'll buy some?"

I'm sure I'll run into simliar problems in other stores. But at least I have the satisfaction of knowing I'll never have to deal with YOU again.

Enraged, and decidedly not cordially yours,

The Amazonian Liongoddess 

Stand by for my next meltdown

3 officers from the Stupid Squad just paid us a visit. Why it took 3 of them to bring in the evidence is beyond me, but I just work here.


I asked Officer 1 what he was putting in. He launched into a convoluted story about how it was obtained from a traffic stop that led to a search warrant and some of it went with one report number and some went on something else, and......STOP THERE.

I told him to separate out whatever went on the first report number. All that went on it was 1 bag of weed. Fine. Do you have the report number? "Yes" *crickets chirp* Would you like to tell me what it is or should I attempt to pull it out of your skull via telepathy? He finally managed to give me a number which of course did not bring anything up. We can force it in when that happens, but the officer will have to tell us where they made the stop so we can enter it. I asked where he got it and he looked confused for a minute before responding, brightly, "Dispatch gave me the number!"

Cue my coworkers howling with laughter. No, dummy, where did you seize the evidence? "Ohhhhhh. It was 12 something Wit-something Rd." Well, let me just punch that in and see if it validates...NOT. One of the other stooges managed to come up with the actual address. Got that knocked out, and asked for the information to enter the rest of the stuff they'd dragged in.

"That goes on a separate report number." I understand that, and I'm ready for the next number. "It's a different number." I GET THAT, NOW GIVE ME THE NEXT NUMBER. "It's got a different suspect too."



I finally get the new number and new suspect from Officer 2. He is beginning to suspect that I'm slightly peeved. Got the case entered, but because they have grow equipment, and because there are generators that I can't lift with my bad back, I now have to take 2 of the 3 stooges down to the basement with me. 2 & 3 are elected to 'help' me.

Note- Officer 3 has been keeping quietly out of the way. He remembers the royal ass-chewing he got a few weeks ago when he called down here screaming that we made a mistake on something his partner (Officer 2, in fact) put in and wisely decided not to push his luck. (For the record, it turned out that we did not make a mistake and his Sgt made him apologize for being an ass) However, his luck ran out when we were ready to go downstairs. 2 & I are at the back of the cart. He is standing in front of the door. I said, "We're going out the door to the lobby elevator." He just stood there. I repeated myself. He continued to just stand there, blankly.

I had to squeeze between the cart and the door, push him out of the way and open the door. "Oh, you meant now?"



I warned my colleagues to call dispatch and report a double murder in the basement if I wasn't back upstairs in 10 minutes. I walked back into the office and they cheerfully announced I'd been gone for 4 minutes and 13 seconds. Yes, they actually timed it.

The final straw? There was a box of assorted paraphernalia among their evidence. It didn't need to go downstairs. I took it to the back and put it on a shelf slightly above my head...which is when I discovered that the Idiot Brigade hadn't dumped the water out of a bong before taping the box shut.



I smell just lovely now, so I won't be stopping at the grocery store on my way home. The last time this happened (and it happens at least twice a year, sadly) and I did that, I was followed around Kroger by a loudly sniffing member of store security.

I love my job. Really.

I weep for America's future...

Forgot to take food to work with me, so I ran out to get dinner yesterday. My total was $6.50. I gave the cashier a quarter, 2 dimes, and a nickel for the change…and had this conversation:




Cashier: The change is 50 cents.



Me: That’s what I gave you.



Cashier: No, you need another quarter.



Me: Um, could you count the change I gave you again?



Cashier: You’re a quarter short.



Me: I gave you a quarter, 2 dimes, and a nickel.



Cashier: *looking at change* Ohhhhhh, sorry! *She then proceeds to try to give me back the nickel.*



Me: *dumbfounded*



Manager: (who had walked up when she heard the debate) Jesus Christ…no wonder your drawer keeps coming up wrong!

Questions I Find Myself Asking All Too Often

Some random, some with reason, all true...

FYI: W= asked at work, H= home, B= both

What's that smell? (B, and all too often, unfortunately)

How did my boobs get bigger when I've lost 47 pounds?!?

What's your name? (W)

Could you spell that, please? (W)

What's your report number? (W)

Was this anywhere that is going to require me to wear gloves BEFORE I touch it? (W)

WHY didn't you tell me that BEFORE I touched it?!? (W)

Do I have to? (B)

Where's your brother/sister? (usually a rhetorical question for the cats, but sometimes applies at work)

Did you see the new patterns by ?

Where is my stapler? (W)

Where are all of my pens? (B)

Why did I agree to this? (B)

When did I agree to this? (B)

Are you sure you turned it in? (W)

Do you speak English? (W)

Are you talking to me? (everywhere)

Do you know what you want yet? (usually to my father in a restaurant)

Do I look like an idiot? (B)

Are you hungry? (B)

Will you please go away? (B)

If I promise to miss you, will you go away? (W)

Can I go away?

What's that noise? (B)

Will you please go get me a Dr Pepper? (W)

Do I look/sound like I care? (B)


Is anyone reading this blog or am I just amusing myself? :-)

Today's moment of amusement

A pair of my favorite officers wandered in. I put their evidence in, and as they were getting ready to go the conversation veered off-track and earned us an odd look from another officer who was waiting. V, who is a known goof, said " Don't mind me, my partner will tell you this is nothing unusual. I can show up wearing 2 shirts, 3 odd socks and no pants and he'll say it's one of my good days."

J, his parnter, chimed in with "I usually just say a prayer at the beginning of every shift that V not get us killed and we can go home without one or both of us going to the hospital."

The thrid officer is getting distinctly ansty at this point. I didn't help when I added "Hey, at least he got his shoes on the right feet today!"

The boys were heading out the door when I said that. V stumbled over the base of the doorway and J cracked up. "OMG, he actually looked to see if he did!"

It's the little things that amuse me.....

I'm a little post-happy this week...

Today is apparently National Coffee Milkshake Day. Not just any old milkshake, but COFFEE milkshake day. Seriously, who comes up with this stuff?!?




This announcement brought to you by the Spencer Foundation For The Sharing Of Useless Trivia.


It was intended to amuse, and possibly educate, but no offense was ever intended. Please feel free to share if you enjoyed it and remember not to shoot the messenger if you didn’t.

I have lost my freaking mind

I just let my best friend talk me into entering a contest to go see these guys on tour. We have to dress up like KISS and send in photos. I agreed, but only if we could make her husband go as Gene Simmons. LOL. He's going to kill us both.

I think I'm going to go with the Cat face. Costumes are going to be a bit trickier...



 This was too cute not to throw in.



We'll see how it goes. Pictures may or may not be forthcoming.


**once again, thanks to Google Images for the pictures posted above