ME, THE LOUSY COP

Me, the Lousy Cop

Well Mr. Citizen, I guess you have figured me out. I seem to fit neatly into the category you place me in. I'm stereotyped, characterized, standardized, classified, grouped, and always typical. I'm 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 be wary of...and then you're shocked when they identify me with my traditional enemy, the criminal.

You accuse me of coddling juvenile criminals, until I catch your kid doing something.

You may take an hour for lunch and several coffee breaks each day, but point me out as a loafer if you see me having just one cup.

You pride yourself on your polished manners, but think nothing of interrupting my meals 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 I'm picking on you.

You know all the traffic laws, but never got one ticket you deserved.

You shout "Foul!" if you observe me driving fast enroute to an emergency call, but literally raise hell if I take more than ten seconds responding to your call.

You call it "part of my job" if someone strikes me. But its "police brutality" if I strike back.

You wouldn't 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 law enforcement.

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 it without batting an eye.

You cry, "Something has to be done about all the crime!" but you can't be bothered with getting involved.

You've got no use for me at all, but, of course, it's OK if I change a tire for your wife, deliver your baby in the back seat of my patrol car on the way to the hospital, save your son's life with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, or work many hours overtime 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, or maybe your life might depend on one thing - me, or one of my buddies.

Yes, me, the lousy cop.

- Author unknown