Whenever a friend is under the weather but feels that he or she must go to work despite the illness, I always pose the simple question: “If you don’t go to work today, is anyone going to die?” For the majority of my friends, the answer is usually a resounding, “No.” (“Tom, if these spreadsheets aren’t done by close of business today, heads are gonna roll!” Really? Are they?) However, for a select few who work in medicine, emergency response, uniformed services, and law enforcement, absence from the normal work shift could very easily result in harm or death. Love em, hate em, or a sweet smattering of both, law enforcement officers have one of the most challenging jobs out there.
Staying out of trouble is not terribly difficult. Blame it on genetics, common sense, or good parenting, but I’ve never had the desire to hotwire a car, sell crack, or solicit a prostitute. (And I was single for a long time.) But even a good egg will crack occasionally.
While in high school, I worked in the telemarketing department of a home remodeling company. The office atmosphere harbored a constant permastank blend of tobacco smoke and ass, as the barely mobile workforce of vending machine connoisseurs waddled in and out from smoke breaks. So when the manager asked for volunteers to canvass a nearby sporting event with fliers, I jumped at the chance to get off the island.
As I placed a “Buy one window, get one 50% off installed!” flier under the 493rd wiper blade of the day, a cop came up behind me. “Sir, what are you doing?” as he pointed up at the “No Solicitation” sign a light post away. Without much discussion, he detained me, and since I clearly looked threatening, asked me politely to sit in the front seat of his running squad car while he phoned my employer. After much dialogue and a visit from the owner, I was allowed to go, only after recollecting all of the fliers. This horrendous offense against society never made it to my record.
Stopped in a snowfall induced back up, I knew an illegal left-hand turn would bypass the delay and get me home to my college apartment much faster. I checked my surroundings, and when all looked clear, shot across the intersection. With the magic of a thousand unicorns, the light bar of a Morgantown police cruiser lit up my review mirror without warning.
Where the hell did he come from? As I rolled down my window, the officer asked for my license and registration. I dug for a minute in my glove box, found the paper work, and when I turned to hand it to him, he had vanished. No car, no cop, no flashing lights. Afraid to leave the scene, I sat in my car for 15-minutes just to make sure he was not planning to return. He did not. Perhaps he had just seen Super Troopers and was laughing at me from afar.
After returning a DVD to Blockbuster, (yes, you once had to leave the house to rent a movie) the refreshing spring air of a Sunday morning captivated me and I peeled out of Blockbuster like Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit. (In a Grand Am, not a Trans Am. It felt more cinematic at the time, I swear.) As I approached 75mph in a 30mph zone, the only car I passed happened to be a West Virginia State Trooper. As I watched him make a U-turn in my rear-view mirror, I pulled over and had my license and registration waiting, head hung low.
“Son, just where in the fuck where you in such a hurry to get to on this fine Sunday morning?”
“Well, to be honest officer, it is a really nice day, had my windows down, and just felt like putting it to the floor. Sometimes, it just feels good to go fast.” Honesty is not always the best policy.
He just stared at me, chewing on his gum, hand resting on his gun. Crickets.
Finally, he said, “I don’t think I like that answer, boy. So here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna ask you again. And you’re gonna tell me, ‘I was on my way to church when you stopped me.’”
More bovine gum chomping.
“Son, just where in the hell where you in such a hurry to get to this morning?”
“Uhh…well, sir, I was, uh, on my way to church when you stopped me.”
“Son, you better get the fuck out of here then. Don’t want you to be late. It’s Sunday.” He stepped back from my car and pointed toward the open lane in front of me. I pulled away, still not sure if I was unknowingly participating in a redneck version of highway cat and mouse. He did not follow, as I headed slowly in the direction of a church.
I have a handful of equally entertaining stories of encounters with law enforcement, mostly involving traffic stops for speeding or a burned out third brake light (didn’t know I had a 3rd brake light until then). About half of the time, through engaging conversation, I’ve managed to get away with just a warning. Being polite, responsive, and friendly can go a long way, as most of my dealings have been entirely positive. Each day, as they strap on the vest and badge, law enforcement officers (and other first-responders, military, and medical personnel) are in constant danger, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for simply showing up to work.
And you thought this post was going to be filled with donut jokes.
Okay, maybe just one.
