True Detective Stories

I hate my job.

Yes, I realize I write that once every week or so, but it is now absolutely true. I hate this job, I hate this department, and I especially hate entitled people who believe they deserve “special” service because they’re former law enforcement.

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk entering jobs, when a woman and her son approached the window and demanded to speak with a detective. I asked them if they knew which detective was handling their case, and the mother immediately replied with a condescending “No.” I then asked if they had a report number so I could help them find their assigned investigator, and I receive another condescending “No.” Again. she then told me they hadn’t made a police report yet.

Now I’m starting to get annoyed, but I was not going to let this woman get the best of me. “You’ll need to make a police report first, so it can be assigned to a detective-”

The woman then turned her back on me, pulled out her cellphone and started to make a phone call. Finally fed up with these shenanigans, I returned to my desk…

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