Don’t tell me to hurry, B@#$%

I know I’ve posted before about ways to handle being pulled over and ways not to handle being pulled over. This is what not to do.

I stopped a typical Town mom on her cell phone. A no-no for six months or so now. I asked her if she knew why I stopped her. She said, I swear to you, “Cause I was eating a hot dog?” Here’s a question…when the fuck did that become illegal? Whatever.

I told her she was on the phone. Like 15′ from my damn car. Clear as day. Her response? “Oh, someone just called and I just picked up.” Um, no. I told her I saw her yapping away and she hadn’t just picked up. So, I go back to my car and scratch out the rag. I go back to have her sign and she says, prior to signing (and looking like she wanted to argue about it), “How much is this going to cost me?” I politely (I swear!) explain the court determines the fee and I don’t have a number to give her. I quickly followed that up with a tutorial on what happens if she refuses to sign, cuz I see that thought formulating in her stupid head. For you uninitiated out there, a refusal equals a trip to jail (a refusal indicates a demand by the driver to be taken before a magistrate immediately…which equals an arrest).

Believe it or not, she didn’t seem happy with my perfectly legal argument. Don’t give a shit. She asked me again about how much it would cost. I told her, again, I didn’t know, but it would most likely be less than $100. She finally signed the cite. Then she started to tell me she was in a hurry and she had to pick up her kids.

I would assume most of you know me. Some of you fairly well. But, for the sake of those who don’t, let me just say I don’t like to be interrupted. It’s rude and leads me to believe you aren’t really listening, but waiting to talk. Guess what? When you get pulled over, you are being detained. Which means your time table means exactly dick (sorry Mom, but it fits…I used the lower case). Another thing to consider. When you ask me if I have kids, that has exactly two things to do with whatever we are talking about. 1)Jack. 2)Shit. Whether or not I have spawn doesn’t influence my decision making about whether you are on the fucking phone or not one iota.

At any rate, I very politely said I do indeed have children (she doesn’t need to know how many). She said something to the effect of, “Well then you know why I’m late. HURRY, HURRY, HURRY”.

We’ve established I don’t like to be interrupted. Something else to consider here. Don’t tell the man with the badge and the gun who has you legally detained WHAT TO DO. I, shall we say succinctly, told her I would not be rushed and subsequently leisurely returned to my car (covering a beat today) and cleared my call. All told, not more than 10-15 seconds, but to her, I’m sure it felt muuuuccchhhh longer.

I love my job. I think the next time I stop someone for a cell phone and they’re polite and admit what they did, I’ll give them a break in her honor. (It’s not like there isn’t a plethora of those violations out there, right?).

And I’m spent….

Please note: I reserve the right to delete comments that are offensive or off-topic. Snark is encouraged. Being a prat is not.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

2 thoughts on “Don’t tell me to hurry, B@#$%

  1. What gets me is the fact that every not so "hands free" conversation these folks are having magically ends the minute they see you. They might as well stay on their cell phone. They're going to pay for it anyway. They might as well continue on with that "emergency" call from Aunt Thelma…"but I was on speaker-phone."