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The Lousy Cop

 

Dear Mr./Mrs. Citizen:

Well, I guess you have me figured out. I seem to fit neatly into the category you place me in. I'm stereotyped, characterized, standardized, classified, grouped, and always typical. I am the lousy cop.

Unfortunately the reverse isn't true. I can never figure you out. From birth you teach your children that I am a person to beware of. Then, you are shocked when they identify me with my traditional enemy...the criminal. You accuse me of coddling juveniles, until I catch your kid doing something wrong. You take an hour lunch, and several coffee breaks each day. Then point me out as a loafer if you see me have just one cup. You pride yourself on your polished manners, but think nothing of interrupting my meals at noon with your troubles.

You raise hell about the guy who cuts you off in traffic, but let me catch you doing the same thing and all of a sudden I am picking on you. You know all the traffic laws, but never got one single ticket you deserve. You shout "abuse of authority" if you see me driving fast to an emergency call, but raise 9 kinds of hell if it takes me more than 30 seconds responding to yours.  You call it "part of my job" if someone hits me, but yell "police brutality" if I strike back.

You would never think of telling your dentist how to pull a badly decayed tooth or your doctor how to take out your appendix. But you are always willing to give me pointers on how to be a police officer. You talk to me in a manner and use language that would assure a bloody nose from anyone else, but you expect me to stand there and take your verbal abuse without batting an eye.

You cry "something needs to be done about crime," but you can't be bothered to get involved. You have no use for me what so ever, but of course it's okay for me to change a tire for your wife, or deliver your baby in the back seat of my patrol car while en route to the hospital, or save your son's life with CPR and mouth to mouth resuscitation, or even forsake time with my family working long hours of overtime trying to find your lost daughter.

So dear citizen, you stand there on your soapbox and rant and rave about the way I do my job, calling me every name in the book, but never stop a minute to think that your property, your family, and maybe your life might someday depend on one thing...ME.

Respectfully,

A Lousy Cop