One of the common misconceptions of police work is the notion all police personnel are “the adults in the room.” Naturally, there are jackasses in every profession, but my division needs its own daycare and/or nursery.
Not so in the case of Detective Baldilocks, who I wrote about previously in this post. Baldilocks, in the current vernacular, would be best described as a “pissy little bitch.” He complains when he is assigned a difficult job, he complains when he’s assigned an easy job, and he complains when his television viewing is interrupted.
Such was the case last night, when a robbery report came in. Baldilocks was next up for an investigation, so I sent the officer back to his desk. A moment or two later, he storms to my desk, holds the report in my face, and says, “I shouldn’t be up for a job this soon. I’m not taking this bullshit!”
I glance at my supervisor, who stares blankly back at me, and decide I can do one of two things: I can pistol-whip him until his gray matter seems out of his skull, or I can ignore his pussy rant and take the job myself.
Sadly, I took the job to spare the sergeant the embarrassment of her not doing her job. Baldilocks walked away with a smug grin on his face, and while I was raging internally, I saw the robbery was no more than a glorified retail theft. The entire report took me ten minutes to complete. Baldilocks’ next job, however, took a few hours. Yeah, those complicated narcotics jobs are a bitch, aren’t they, dickweed?
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