True Detective Stories

Yesterday was my first day back to work. I’m on the night shift for two weeks, which means I can sleep late, but it also means I will be crazy busy. The thugs really like shooting people at night.

The short version of this post is I hate my job, I hate people, and I hate computers. The post will bee formatted in bullet points, because I wish I could have fired some bullets last night.

* As I was driving into work, making great time, I spent a good twenty minutes stuck at a red light. The one-lane highway was at a standstill for construction… as 2:30pm… on a f**king weekday. I made it to work on time, but I threw out more than a few sentence enhancers.

* As I approached my desk, the day work sergeant was sitting in my chair. He was trying to fix the computer system, which crashed two days after our new computers arrived. The sergeant fixed the issue, signed me in, and two hours into my shift, the system crashed again. The crash meant I couldn’t do my job, so I had to enter them into the archaic system. I will also have to re-enter the jobs today into the new system. Because God hates me.

* By 7pm, we handled four robberies, all from the same district. Sure, the cops there can easily arrest people for drugs and shoplifting, but robberies? Nah brah, they’re too busy for that.

* An officer called and said he had a shoplifting job. Then he said he thinks it’s a robbery. A few moments later he says it’s an aggravated assault. I asked this dolt if he had a supervisor out there and he replied, “No, I figured you’d tell me what to do.” I did my best to not tell him to step in front of a train.

This job, in this city, is absolutely soul crushing.

True Detective Stories

This job bugs me.

Yesterday I walked into the office and it smelled… funny. I couldn’t determine the smell, but it was something truly awful, like chemicals, a skunk, or our ever-present asbestos. It was not an ideal way to start the day.

I get to my desk and one of the overnight detectives told me the district brought in a domestic abuse victim, and she was covered in bugs.

Now normally, a thinking person would have the victim sit in the hallway, the police car, or the sidewalk outside, but no, these morons decided to bring her inside the building and then inside the squad room. Did I mention the officers didn’t tell anyone about the infestation until after her interview was conducted?

Worse still, the odor was not coming from the victim. The odor was from the bug spray. Apparently the assigned detective keeps Raid in his drawer, and thought it a good idea to spray it inside the room to kill the bugs. So not only were we forced to smell the poison, but also had to cough it out of our lungs for the first hour of the day.

Our best and brightest, folks. Our best and brightest.

True Detective Stories

When I was first promoted, the seasoned detectives in my squad told me, “Eventually, you’ll hate cops.” Like most of the newly-promoted, I thought they were just disgruntled old guys who had seen one too many awful report.

Turns out, they were right.

On Tuesday evening, three cops came to the division with the victim of an alleged theft. Two cops were with the transit police and one was from the city. The three of them were arguing about who was handling the arrest, but they are arguing that neither wanted it. (Because why would you want to make an arrest if you could go back to eating bon-bons?)

Between these three dopes, the victim, and their police radios, I could not hear myself think. (Something I rarely do.) I stand up and say, “Hey, can you take this in the hallway? We’re trying to conduct interviews.”

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