Stressed out and aggravated, I looked at the clock on my dashboard and did the math. I was going to be late.
Stuck at a red light behind a big SUV, I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for the light to change. Then, a woman and her little girl walked up to the intersection and pressed the walk button. I fully expected them to not wait for the crosswalk signal like every other idiot in the city and begin crossing as soon as the light turned green.
Pet Peeve No. 2
Enter pet peeve number two: people who press the walk signal button, wait two seconds, and then cross against the light. Then, after they block traffic by walking in front of it, the lights all turn red and traffic is forced to sit there after they are long gone and wait for nothing. This isn’t rocket science people! You press the button and wait for the lights to cycle, then you cross when the signal says so. It’s a cycle, not an easy button for instant wish-granting. What is so difficult about that?
1-2-3 Green Light
On this particular morning of this particular day, I was driving my car to an overtime detail — one that was under the administrative microscope and monitored by the powers that be. So, being on time was important, but on that day, I wasn’t going to make it.
The light turned green and the big stupid SUV in front of me didn’t move. Quite the opposite, actually. The driver of the SUV waived the lady and her daughter to cross in front of us. Hey, no problem. Since the world revolves around you, I’ll just wait longer. And let me tell you, those toddler legs weren’t very fast. How nice. So, I did what any mature officer would do: I laid on my horn, threw my hands up in the air in disgust, and started yelling through my windshield.
Oh, but it didn’t end there.
The Laxative Aisle
The SUV then slowly turned left which happened to be the same direction I was going (of course). The SUV putted forward like a geriatric on a motorized shopping cart in the laxative aisle at Walmart until it finally pulled over into an on-street parking space parallel to the road. With smoke billowing from my ear canals I creeped by so I could mean-mug the driver. I slow-rolled past them and craned my neck to stare down the driver and fire daggers from my eyes. Then, I suddenly realized something: it was the chief. Not the Native American kind — the kind that ran the department I worked for. Oh, and the front passenger was the assistant chief. (Though I second-guessed myself for a split second, I was fairly certain Native American tribes didn’t have assistant chiefs). Could this scenario have been more perfect?
Well, I didn’t know what to do so I just kept going. I mean, I was late after all.
Fretting And Sweating
The following four hours of my detail felt like waiting for my turn at the gallows. I fretted and sweated as I ran various scenarios through my head and possible avenues of how to approach this most unusual of problems. Things played out in my mind to varying degrees of career-ending finality. Walking a beat on midnights couldn’t be that bad, could it? Or walking in the door at home like, “Surprise, honey! I’m home early and I’m unemployed!”
After four hours of dread my detail ended and I headed for the station to begin my regular shift. Somehow, some way, I had made up my mind to nip this thing in the bud. With my proverbial tail between my trembling legs I headed for the chief’s office. Better get it over with, I thought. I couldn’t take the sense of impending doom any longer. After crossing the threshold, I asked the secretary if the chief was in, but learned that he was in a meeting. She said she’d call me when he was free. Oh goody, more waiting.
Let The Games Begin
About half an hour later I got the call and headed back to the lion’s den. I imagined this must be what a runaway slave led by the neck for fun and games at the Coliseum felt like — I much preferred a quick death. I knocked at the office door and entered to find the chief in running shorts and a t-shirt with his foot up on a chair tying his sneakers. So far, this wasn’t what I pictured. He looked up at me and asked what was up. Like you don’t know, I thought.
Ok, here goes nothing…
Casual, just be casual.
“Hey, chief, do you remember that time (this morning) when you were stopped at a green light to let a lady and her kid cross the street and some whack-job in the car behind you started honking and then gave you the hairy eyeball? Ya, that time. Um, well, that was me.”
Awkward pause.
He chuckled and said he didn’t remember it, though I have my doubts. Then he thanked me for “falling on my sword” and, well, that was it. No fireworks, no midnight walking beat, no unemployment line. Kind of anticlimcatic, really. With left over beads of sweat still glistening on my bald head, I headed for my desk and tried to get back to work.
My pet peeve got the best of me that day, but I learned a valuable lesson: never lose it on someone in traffic until after I have verified that it wasn’t the chief.
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