Earlier this month, an officer with a police department in Ohio filed a lawsuit against his agency seeking $3.5M in damages.  The officer claims that he was subjected to harassment as a result of his wife posing for Playboy Magazine.

According to the article:

His attorney, John Sherrod, says Fithen was harassed on the job and was asked repeatedly for copies of the magazine and for the autograph of his wife, Beth. The lawsuit also claims police began an investigation of the couple that caused emotional distress.

I don’t know about your department, but if this is all that happened, he got off lucky. At my PD, it would have been no-holds-barred, merciless, hell.

If my wife were to tell me she was going to pose for Playboy, the first thing to pop into my head would have nothing to do with the moral issue, the sanctity of our marriage, jealousy, or the even the pay day: it would be the moment that word of my bride’s photo shoot reached the locker room at my job. 

And, knowing my colleagues, the planning would commence immediately.

The assault would be launched as soon as the suspect issue hit the news stands.  From that moment, my life would change.

Each workday would begin with the normal stroll through the parking lot, however, my face would grimace as I prepare for what I was about to find in my mailbox.  (continued below)

If the mailbox was untouched, the next hurtle would be the locker.  Most certainly the front of my locker would be decorated with my bride’s new hobby.

If the locker were clean, I’d hope to get through briefing without the topic surfacing.  Perhaps a fake report would be carefully inserted into briefing for the sergeant to read aloud. 

But, if for some reason I made it this far, my last obstacle would be the patrol car. 

And if there were no pictures, poems, or requests for autographs on my dashboard, I’d be home free.