Surprise...

One of the deputies and I get along quite well.  I enjoy talking with him, and he is closer to my age, so the "Yes, Ma'am" stuff doesn't happen.  Which is nice. 

Ma'am.  Yick. 

Anyway.  I knew he was one of the longer serving deputies in this office, which is why it shouldn't have surprised me, but it did.

I saw a notice that he'd retired as of the end of the year.  This was the same deputy that gave me all the cool goodies.  I was much dumbfounded, usually I hear that Dep. Whatsit, or Det. Suchnwho will be leaving, sometimes they even have retirement potlucks or some such. 

Nope, just left.  I checked his cubby, sure enough, all his personal stuff was gone, it was just a blank wall and a computer.

Odd.  Maybe he didn't want the party, or just didn't have time.  That has happened, too, when they have to get so much finished at the end of things, they are just spending all sorts of time just writing up things and preparing to leave. 

Either way, bummer.  I would have liked to wish him Happy Retirement.  I do know he lives fairly near me, so perhaps I will see him doing retirement 'stuff' later, and can say hi.

That's one of the funny things about working here.  I have seen lots of the ones that are here, be NOT here after a while.  Some go to the main office in different capacities, like Detective or some such, some retire, some go to different parts of the county to work. 

Life goes on.  Just sometimes interesting when it does! 

Surprised, and pleased!!

(Note:  I had said on the Thanksgiving post that Grandma had died.  Mom said it was when my Grandpa died. Sorry about that...  The pizza was still good, though...)

Came into work today, and there was a black bag on the volunteer's table.  Not unusual. We leave things for one another, one of the gals and I trade plants, bulbs, and occasionally yarn.  Some of the others have different items they might send one to another, books, something that was in an oily box... ?  Anyway, it's not that strange.  Still give it a once over, to make sure it's not anything stinky, (I had to move a lovely flower arrangement one time, because after about 10 minutes I had a headache that wouldn't quit...), and if there's anything that shouldn't be there for whatever reason...

So, I look, and since I have to open up the place, I just glance to see what the note on it is.  My name?  Huh!  Okay, check in a minute... Get the place open for the day, and back...  So, what is this little bag?

I look in, and one of the Deputies had left me a bag 'o things.  The bag itself is a backpack type thing, you can carry wet items in it, if need be, but it's a quick go bag, basically.  Inside was a cup that I could quite easily have a serving of soup, or just about my morning ration of tea.  And some pens, and what not.  I think it's giveaways from a meeting he went to, from some of the business cards and papers I saw inside.  There is also a folder that is one of those kind you can use as a writing surface.  That I can use!  Well, some of the other stuff, too, but especially that!

I thought that was pretty cool.  I try and let the guys know I appreciate them, it's nice to know that it's returned. 

And I put a thank you note on his desk, too!  :)

Cookies and bears.

Had not made cookies for the deputies for a while.  Made up some chocolate chip ones, and set them in the back area where the desks are.

One of the deputies came in, who is known to be a card.  I mentioned there were cookies available.  In true drama king form, he moaned, "I just lost the weight from Christmas, you are horrible..." and other things implying that I was trying to raise the BMI of all county law enforcement.

On and on...

So, I piped up, and said, "Geez, should I have brought in rice cakes, instead?"

He replied, loudly, "Haven't you ever heard, 'DON'T FEED THE BEARS'?"  However, the effect was somewhat spoiled by his mouth being full of cookie...

I laughed, as I noticed that the poor new person kept looking at the two of us like we had lost our respective minds...

Cop shop stories...

The last couple weeks at the substation have been quiet, with a few interesting moments.

Last week, a guy came in, and asked a question about getting boxes to a family member, who was under a restraining order.  I didn't have a clue about what was needed for that, and knew a deputy was in the back, so I walked back to ask him...

He was on the phone, and as I walked up I heard, "Poison??  And you know this how?"

This sounded... unique.  The deputy scowled, then continued, sounding rather nonplussed, "It does that, huh. Yes, I am lis-... No, but how do you think they are getting in?"

I wrote a note that at his convenience, could he come up and talk to the man in front. (But, man, did I want to eavesdrop on that conversation!)  So, I went back up front, and let the gent know that the deputy would be up front soon to help him, and we had a bit of a conversation about rock hounding, and I tried to stay out of the man's "personal space".

I have come to find out, I can be polite, I can get information for almost anyone, but two things stop me short.  Body odor, and heavy smoke smell.  This guy had just enough of both for me to go into "polite secretary" mode, where I talk from my desk while typing. (They don't have to know what the typing is, and in most cases, it is actual 'work', I write the newsletter for the Seniors And Law enforcement Together {SALT} group.)  Most of the deputies don't even seem fazed by it, but it doesn't seem to get any better for me.  I had to work with one person a while ago, that I ended up excusing myself, and putting some menthol grease up my nose.  This gent was sort of mild, comparatively, but still more than my nose, or stomach, particularly wanted to deal with.

The deputy finished with his call, then came up front and asked how he could help.  The gent then replied, "You need to keep some boxes to give to this relative, I've got a restraining order against him."  The deputy said that the Sheriff's Office (SO) didn't keep items to send from one person to another, and besides he didn't know who the man was talking about.

"Well, of COURSE you do!  It's my relative John Doeazz, you guys check up on him all the time!"  Calmly, the deputy explained that first, he wasn't with Parole and Probation, so he wouldn't know him, again, that the SO isn't a storage area for transfer of items, and did the man have a current address.  They could help, after the man had contacted the relative.

"Hell, no, I don't know where he lives, that's what the restraining order is about."  The deputy continued to calmly explain that unless the man had an idea where said relative lived, and could contact him, preferably by letter, that there wasn't much that any one could do.  The deputy encouraged him to possibly contact friends of the relative, but by that point, the man was just... upset, and saying that he had all this 'stuff', and he wanted the room in his shop back, and how was he going to get it back to him if  THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE didn't do something.

The deputy asked if he knew the relative's Parole Officer.  That lead to the man snorting, and saying he didn't know or care, that was the Sheriff's Office's problem, not his.  The deputy looked slightly bemused, and said, well, you have to be able to contact John Doeazz in some manner, and that would either be through a letter, or his parole officer.

This went on for no less than 40 minutes, when finally the man shook his head, mumbled "all I was trying to do was get the stuff back to him NICELY", then walked out.  I commented that the 'stuff' was in 4 boxes, and he'd had it for two years, somehow I don't think he was that serious about getting it back to the rightful owner.  The deputy responded, "Might or might not, but we aren't a storage facility.  He has to find out if the guy wants the stuff back."

You have to deal with some interesting folks, I quipped.  He got a half-grin, and said, at least this one was mostly normal.   He then told me about the phone call I had overheard.  A lady had called to report that she was being poisoned by a neighbor that snuck in.  She didn't know what the poison was, but it made her forgetful, and then when she was asleep, the same neighbor would sneak in and steal her appliances, and replace them with broken ones.

Quite honestly, I had no clue what to say to that.

I said, gee, it's not even... We both finished, "the full moon yet!"  He looked slightly chagrined, and said, "well, I am on duty, so I am going to go have a strong... coffee."

The fun never ends...


This last Wednesday, I was sitting quietly at the desk, and the Sargeant was there.  He is a stout man, sort of laid back, and rather joking.  (The man referred to me as Rookie for at least 6 months when I started volunteering.)  I hadn't seen much going on, and had the radio on low.  I heard a deputy on the radio call for assistance with a falling victim.  He was first on scene.  She was fine, he said, concious, yada, yada, yada, but she was 450 pounds.  


Dispatch called for assistance for him.  


I sort of zoned out after that, it was the usual, I am going here, I am checking this, I have arrived here communications that make up probably about 75 percent or more of what is on the "public" channel.  The interesting thing, I can also hear at least one or two of the "private" channels that the deputies use.  (If you watch cop shows, it's sometimes referred to as TAC 1, or whatever number.  It's just usually a frequency that they don't release to the general public...)  


Anyway, I had heard the radio in the back, that was on the other frequency, come to life, but didn't hear what was said, except for "code 3".  This had an instantaneous effect on the Sargeant.  I hear this crash and thumping, and realize it's the sargeant at a dead run to his car outside. (I later figured out the crash was his rolling office chair hitting the wall...)  I turned up the radio I had, and heard one, then another, and another deputy showing up at a particular place, then quiet for a bit.  Soon, I heard them clear, and a few minutes later, the Sargeant shows up again, along with another deputy. (Code 3, by the way, means that lights and siren can be used, i.e., it's important...) 


Uh, everything okay?


The sargeant, in his usual laid back fashion, nods, yeah, just a couple guys in a screaming match in front of a bar.  But when 4 officers show up to 'encourage' them to settle down, they decided to leave.  I told them to go home.   I saw the guy's bike at another house, but if we don't get any more calls like that, I will be happy.


About then, my parents showed up to let me know about my Grandma.  Grandma has been ill, and they wanted to give me an update.  After a bit of conversation, Mom had to go to the nearby post office, and I saw the deputy slip out.  


Another person came by, and I was busy trying to get her some information, when Mom came back.  I was on the phone with dispatch, and saw the deputy walk up by me.  He saw that I had the one person well in hand, and then went and talked to my Mom and Dad, unaware that they'd been talking to me.


According to what Mom said, he asked if they need help.  Mom said no, that they were just relaying some information about my grandmother.  From what Mom described, the deputy suddenly got rather intense, asking if it was serious, did he need to be there, was everything okay.  Mom assured him that it was okay, and that it was just a routine thing.  He then relaxed, and went back to his desk.  


It's nice to know that "my guys" are concerned about me as much as I am about them!