Saturday was my final shift of the two-week day work tour. I despise day work, because humans should never be awake at 5:45am. Any hoo, there is an older black woman who calls the division every day and rambles on and on forever about nothing in particular. She’s annoying, but mostly harmless.
Guess who drew the short straw Saturday?
Me: Detective Division, may I help you?
Woman: Is Detective Jackson there? (She always asks for Detective Jackson for some reason.)
Me: No ma’am, he’s off today.
Woman: Well maybe you can help me…
(Grabs pistol, places it in mouth.)
Woman: I need to get more minutes on my Obamaphone. For some reason, I can’t make or receive calls on it.
Me: Ma’am, we don’t really handle Obamaphone problems.
Woman: Oh, I know, detective. I was going to call 911 for a police officer to come and handle it.
(Places finger on trigger.)
Me: Ma’am, the police don’t do that, either. You have to go wherever they give out the Obamaphones.
Woman: Well, I’m in New York City today. Do you think I should go to a police station here?
Me: Yes ma’am, I do. I think that’s a tremendous idea.
Woman: Thank you, detective; you have been very helpful.
Sorry NYPD, but the ball’s in your court now.