Note: This post originally appeared on my old blog back in 2008. I hear response times have gotten better but I dunno where, exactly.
Oh, wait: Midtown. They’ll have improved in Midtown.
This is an entirely hypothetical (for legal purposes) scenario, followed by a survey for my WordPress friends:
Let’s just say you’ve called 9-1-1 at, oh, midnight.
Why? I’m glad you asked. Please allow me to answer in quiz form:
If you say:
“There’s a drunk man on my porch and he won’t leave. He keeps trying to open the door. I told him to get lost but he keeps trying to come in anyway.”
The first thing out of the 9-1-1 operator’s mouth will be:
- a) I’ll put in a call to the police – just sit tight and try to stay calm.
- b) We’ll send someone over there as soon as we can.
- c) What time did you put your boyfriend out of the house, ma’am?
Guess which one she said. Guess.
Really.
The total boredom of the first operator was only slightly exceeded by the utter disinterest and obvious irritation of the second one when I called back to let them know that Shitfaced Drunkass had been joined by Dickless Bonehead and there were now two alcoholic dipshits at my door. I had to explain that these weren’t relatives or neighbors not only to 9-1-1 but to the police – who, by the way, weren’t interested in taking any kind of report.
At least SD & DB didn’t steal my damn back gate.* Thanks, jackasses.
They also rectified the previous complete lack of alcoholic dipshit urine all over my porch. Thanks again.
Fuckers.
BTW, kudos to Terrye S. for staying on the phone with me during my meltdown.
A combination of kudos and exasperated mouth noises to my three big dogs, who protectively parked themselves in front of the door until I made them move…but absolutely refused to bark.
They have never been so quiet. Good timing, guys.
This, but with THREE of them. Bastards.
Image source: 9gag.com
Granted, the ball-ripping bloodfest that would have ensued if those morons had actually broken down the door would have been mighty entertaining (next time I’ll pop some popcorn just in case) – but it would have been much more calming if they had heard the damn dogs and gone home. *sigh*
It is cool that I do still have my back gate.
It’s much less cool that I also have a porch full of alcoholic jackass piss. Again, thank you so very much. And: thanks, 9-1-1. I do have some constructive criticism: try to keep in mind that not everyone from Detroit who calls about drunks in her home is in the middle of a domestic dispute. Also, those who arein domestic disputes are not always calling just so they can tell their abusive husbands, ‘ha-ha, I called the police’. Sometimes citizens need help beforedrunken idiot jackasses work up the nerve to cause some damage. Just a thought.
Next time I know to be a screaming, sobbing, stereotypical Scared Little Woman when I call so you’ll take me seriously the first damn time.
I’m just glad that my daughter didn’t make the call; if she had, I’m thankful that she’s over five years old.
Anyway, here’s the survey: What’s the stupidest thing a 9-1-1 operator ever said to you? I’ll give 1/2 of the bumper sticker proceeds to whoever has the funniest/worst/saddest/most horrifying tale.**
C’mon, y’all – share.
*This was covered a long time ago in my old MySpace blog, but for all you newbies: In April of 2007, I came home to find that part of my back gate had been stolen. Not both panels from the gate, just one panel. I could have understood this if at the time I had had the extremely cool wrought-iron gate that I have now, but in 2007 my back yard was sealed off from The World’s Creepiest Alley by a cheap, rusted chainlink gate that didn’t even close properly half of the time. This was also some time before the economy was quite so thoroughly in the toilet; our local scrap metal thieves weren’t nearly as aggressive as they are today, so I still haven’t figured out why it was stolen. You’re welcome to offer your theories.
**Yeah, I’m not really making bumper stickers. I’m just hoping to liven up the comments section. 😉
