Day 2: Last Day On Phones

by pjmcbride

THESE ARE NOT EMERGENCIES

“So you need police because someone is calling you names?”

“Caller complaining that her husband keeps pulling the blanket off her, which makes it a physical dispute.” And then….”Called back saying to cancel, because she doesn’t need the drama.” Well, calling 911 because someone pulled the blanket off you is pretty much the definition of drama.

I just told a guy not to call me “dude.”

THIS, ON THE OTHER HAND, IS AN EMERGENCY

“This is not an emergency.”

“OK, what is the problem?”

“My girlfriend has kidney stones and can hardly walk. She needs an ambulance.”

THOUGHTFUL WHINING

I feel like a weenie for retiring just as soon as I can afford to, but, in the immortal words of Tragically-Hip Nikki, I want to go to that magical land where no one screams at me on the phone and I don’t have to work while I eat. And once I realized it was making me lose my hair, I started wondering what else it might be doing to my health. (Of course, I could also wonder what all the Coke I drink is doing to my health. Oh right, the thousands of dollars in dental work.) So I think 30 years is long enough.

OH HEY, IT’S MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND!

“Ma’am, officers investigated your complaint of shots fired and determined it was fireworks.”

“Well, if someone was killed, I guess you’ll find them tomorrow morning.” Yeah, I guess we will.

And for everyone assuring us, “I know the sound of a gunshot, and that’s not fireworks”–I once had an officer say he heard gunshots, and another officer nearby said, “No, that was fireworks.” So if even officers can’t always tell the difference, you can’t, either.

One more hour, and I will be freed from the shrill whinny of the phone.

 

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