I feel safe when I see a cop car... and I will refer to them from here on as cops (bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?) I've always felt safe when the cops were around because they are here to Serve and Protect. It's the blue uniforms and the tough look in their eyes. No one will do anything wrong around them because of what it all stands for.
Sadly, behind those eyes is a vacancy so deep it's amazing they can form sentences. Can you say lobotomy?
I had to go smoke a cigarette before I told this tale. I've dealt with the cops on a one-on-one basis many times (Canadian Police included, but that's a different story), all not good. It usually ends with me feeling like, "@#$%&!"
I've recently had the misfortune of losing my cell phone in a cab and the individual who STOLE it (the cab driver) racked up over $1000 in calls to South America in only 48 hours. I'm already irate about it and the fact that T-Mobile is trying to pin this on me is doing nothing for the ulcer I'm developing.
I went to the cops yesterday to file a report. Big mistake. I stood out front for a minute saying a small prayer that they aren't the smug pricks I know them to be. Bravo, gentlemen, for your consistency.
When I walked in 10 cops in uniforms stood around chatting, not a one turned around to help me. I was ahem-ing until one behind the tall desk looked up and moved in my direction. I announced that I need to file a report for stolen property. He asked what was stolen and when I said my cellphone immediately his demeanor changed... smug prick. I could tell he was thinking, "Here we go." Because I immediately thought, "Here we go." And I went on to further explain that whoever STOLE my phone racked up over $1000 in charges, which I KNOW is larceny in the 4th, a Class E felony punishable by up to a year and half in prison (thank you, law student fiance!)
This meant nothing to him. He sent me to a room where three little old ladies were waiting to take down my statement. When I looked in the room I saw no one. I was standing there, confused, helpless, 10 cops standing idly around and no one noticed that I was wondering loudly, WTF? I went back to the cop (who I swear to Christ, was staring at the ceiling, busy as a mother fucker) and annoyed, he pointed to the room and told me just to go in there. All the while 10 cops standing around, chatting like ladies.
I'm not even going bore you with the details of being talked over and talked down to by the three little old ladies who sit in the corner of this room, hiding, waiting for the next idiot to go in there to entertain them with their tales of woe. I will tell you that I came away with this fabulous knowledge:
- I cannot just go in there accusing people of anything. I did not SEE the theft with my own eyes so my phone is considered "Lost." I suppose they consider all your shit "Lost" when your home gets broken into since you didn't see the theft.
- Despite what everyone thinks it is not the police's job to follow up on such things as felonies. It is the cell phone company's job. Holy fucking shit, now I know.
- Also, just because the car company is in Park Slope (one block from the police station)doesn't mean that's where the complaint gets filed. It gets filed in Harlem, where I realized the phone was gone. Considering I've seen a shooting victim at the McDonald's on 125th & Bdwy, I'm thinking they're not going to Park Slope to follow-up on my cell phone caper.
There you go folks. I give them my story and an incredibly easy lead on a silver platter and they throw me away. Why? Because I didn't murder anyone and this sad tale won't make anyone Captain.
I have a whole bag of stories just like this of these bored, hardly-high school-educated, desk jockies in uniform. If you too would like to warm me with your tales of NYPD woe please feel free to write in. And don't forget to thank the officers for being as helpful as a case of syphilis, as usual.