Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: radio

Live-Blogging: 4th of July on Reitz Hill

AT 1555

Well, the foot of the hill, at any rate. Time for our annual holiday BBQ! After shoveling dead beetles out of the front windowsill in expectation of guests, it’s on to personal preparation–I am wearing “Gunmetal Gray” eyeshadow, in honor of all the gunpowder that will be deployed tonight (not by us, I hasten to add), and “Watermelon Pink” lipstick, in honor of watermelon.

Rom bashed his hand with a sledgehammer, so that’s out of the way.

We have been preparing to the soundtrack of WABX radio: “EVANSVILLE’S ONLY CLASSIC ROCK STATION! AND CLASSIC CALL LETTERS!” No, sorry, they’re not. And I know whereof I speak, since my stepfather was a radio DJ, and worked at many stations. WLS/Chicago is classic. WABX can’t even be made into a cutesy slogan.

Ad on the said WABX: “For job-training, text JOB–that’s J-O-B–to…” As Rom said, if you have to be told how to spell “job,” you don’t have much of a future.

Most of the radio ads today are telling us to use their products responsibly. Because who could imagine setting off fireworks while drunk might cause a problem?

“Rock and roll never forgets”–Bob Seger

My version: “Rock and roll never forgives.”

Rom’s version: “Rock and roll can’t even remember.”

Kiss wants us to Rock and Roll All Night and Party Every Day. I don’t believe that’s a sustainable way of life.

In other music news, Yes continues to suck.

AT 1621

Um, why set off fireworks during the day? Obviously your World Leader needs to work on regulations for this area, or at least go glare at the people up on the Reitz lot.

AT 1707

Water balloons have been brought. But no one would dare throw one at me, right?

AT 1719

I’d already consumed my supply of apple ale (brought by Nick previously in exchange for a garage door opener battery, because he is too feeble to open a garage) for this vacation, so Sister Elizabeth let me have one of hers! Hurray! I’ve already been transgressive by eating Doritos scoops BY THEMSELVES, without salsa, because salsa looks like puke.

AT 1906

Almost all our guests have gone. 2 praying mantises were spotted–size, small and smaller. Small children were told you shouldn’t whack a set of wind chimes JUST AS HARD AS YOU CAN, thank you very much.

For the record, I was not one of the people who daintily cut a chunk of meat into thirds and only put part of it on their plate. I was all in.

I managed to avoid spilling said meat in my lap.

BONUS OBSERVATION, SINCE I FORGOT TO PUBLISH THIS POST YESTERDAY:

Crisis in Progress, Really?! division:

I am not the person to yell at if you dislike the fireworks laws.

–“It’s legal? Even if it sets my house on fire?” Actually, even if it did set your house on fire, that would not retroactively make it illegal. Another woman, having been told by my colleague 911SK that it was legal until 11:30 through July 9th (WHY?), said, “I want officers to drive through my neighborhood and make them think it’s illegal.” She actually thought that was her right as a taxpayer.

 

 

 

 

Reasons Your Dispatcher Is Freaking Out

A parametric plot of a Möbius strip

A parametric plot of a Möbius strip (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The idea for this post is stolen from, I mean inspired by, Nick. But I can steal from a cop with impunity because I am at home, and he once said to me that “Nothing you are capable of providing could lure me to your lair.” Leaving the question of my capabilities aside, this is a hurtful thing to say to someone who wouldn’t harm a hair on his head, once I got him chained up and dragged in here.  Nevertheless, he does have a dread fascination with said lair, so maybe I need to plant spiny rosebushes in front of all my windows, not just two of them. The more rosebushes in the world, the better, as far as I’m concerned.

The idea is also stolen from my stepdaughter, who posted this list which she stole from someone else: http://jasongood.net/365/2012/12/46-reasons-why-my-three-year-old-might-be-freaking-out/ because it reminded her of her own two-year-old son. And I passed it on to Nick, who happens to have a three-year-old son, and he then said he might compile a similar list for dispatchers, since he used to be one before we threw him out.

OK, do you feel like you’re listening to an Academy Awards thanks-giving speech yet? N-E-WAY, here goes:

1. The room is too hot. Or too cold. Or the windows are closed, so it’s stuffy. Or the windows are open, and you’re allergic to everything out there.

2. The lights are too bright, and it’s giving you a headache. Or too dim, ditto.

3. Your co-worker won’t stop talking.

4. Your co-worker won’t listen to you.

5. Officer identifies self on radio merely as “2-0,” when there are three different cars with radio numbers ending with those digits.

6. A pursuit is initiated by officer incoherent with excitement. Sergeant orders discontinuation of pursuit, and everyone involved  pretends they have radio trouble and are unable to hear the order.

7. You are the fire dispatcher, and a co-worker yells “Fire run!” when you’re across the room from your console.

8. You are the fire dispatcher, and a co-worker pretends there is a fire run when you’re across the room from your console.

9. After 3 hours of silence in the room, you take a bite of food, and someone immediately calls.

10. This happens five hundred more times.

11. Even though this happens five hundred times every day, you still can’t manage to lose weight.

12. The elastic band in your jacket cuff has twisted itself into a Moebius strip, and the edge is digging into your wrist, and you can’t manage to straighten it out. Oh, wait, that’s just why I might be freaking out.

Satisfied, Nick? If you think you can write a better one, send it to me, and I promise to publish it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Theater of Cruelty: Mistakes Were Made

You may be wondering why I called you here today (the specific reason, I mean–the general reason is that writers gotta write, I guess). Well, that would be because, um, {jamming hands in pockets and staring at the floor}, Nick, my good friend (right?) and co-worker (that, at least, is incontrovertible), insisted on it. This noble beast, who has suffered so much at my hands these past months, was given a run tonight that should have been given to another officer. That wasn’t the worst of it. That, in itself, was a mistake that was easy to make, since our car numbers are confusing and our computer software annoying.

(Digression: And why must this be so? When I started, we used numbers like “Car 1” and “Car 17.” [Amusingly, there was no Car 13, which would have presumably been bad luck for somebody.] When we became computerized, they came up with these lengthy and convoluted numbers, like 2W210. “How else,” They said, “will we know which department is indicated?” Well, maybe by the radio channel they’re on? “And how else,” They continued, ignoring my objections, “will we know which shift is indicated?” Well, by what time of day it is, I’m guessing. End of digression.}

But I digress. (As indicated above.) The real problem was {I continue, brushing off a spider–or something–I have the lights off in here–that was crawling on my hand} that, although I realized I’d made a mistake right after having done so, I did not correct the mistake, tell Nick to disregard, and send the other officer. No, I let him go ahead on, and take a harassment report unnecessarily (unaware that he was himself being harassed). And why? To preserve the myth of dispatcher infallibility. Yes, up until this  moment, officers believed that we were  perfect, although the 911-calling public could have told them differently. So, not only were mistakes made, there was also a cover-up!

At any rate, I eventually felt guilty and apologized to the thus-overworked Nick via private message, but he, seizing the opportunity in his pointed teeth, stated that he would accept nothing less than a public (well, semi-public–my readership is small and select) apology here. So here you are, and I have a sneaking suspicion you’ve been staying up waiting to read it.

Other stuff:

–Officer’s disposition on a run: “I removed the pillows from the traffic lane.” Nothing like a relaxing nap on the expressway.

–Man with a gun run: “Suspect is in a red van with “For Sale” on the side.” Buy my van or I’ll shoot!

Remember I said someone brought a bag of corn in to Dispatch? Tonight I saw four more bags. How is this happening?

Channel 66.6 HM Haunted Radio

Channel 66.6 HM Haunted Radio (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

World Leader Pretend: I Control the Weather and Tell Cops What to Do

I will accept, albeit unwillingly, snow in March. However, I will not accept it after the vernal equinox. Snow on Palm Sunday? Whose idea was this?

Someone called tonight and said, “The people down the street are clownin’ and actin’ a fool!” Yes! They were doing both!

Note to officers on the radio: When I say “Stand by,” it does not mean, “Go ahead with your traffic, extra-fast.”

— If you have to give me a lengthy bunch of information, do not speed up as you go along.

–If you do one of those things, and I ask you to repeat, do not do it extra-slow, as if I’m mentally-challenged.

OK, in the interest of fairness and equity, is there anything I/we do that is annoying to officers? Hmm?

Sunday

Sunday (Photo credit: ex.libris)

Theater of Cruelty Has Been Canceled

…Instead, ALL PRAISE to the WONDERFUL, dare I say SAINTLY, Nick, who neither smelled like cigarette smoke, nor was he covered with fire-extinguisher foam. By the way, he brought us food.

Speaking of Us, the Thought for the Day was uttered by my colleague A.J. Vader (daughter of Darth), who told a caller, “Ma’am, I’m not in the business of solving puzzles.” Well, WHY AREN’T YOU? I’ve been asked “Why are cigarettes so expensive?” (I told him that wasn’t an emergency, and he answered, “It is to me!”) I’m surprised no one has called 911 to find out the meaning of life yet.

Adding to my list of Things to Do on My Last Day of Work:

–asking “Am I clear for a meal?” on the air

–when an officer calls and says “I need….(fill in the blank),” saying “What about my needs?” (thanks, Karen)

–telling every person who calls to complain about someone texting while driving, “Well, you’re talking on the phone and driving!”

And, signing off with old-fashioned call letters, which I still remember, for each agency:

Chemical Foam extinguisher, inner parts, and c...

Chemical Foam extinguisher, inner parts, and charges (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

EPD–KSA931, VCS–KSF295, EFD–KSC497. Yes, I know nobody asked.

 

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