Saturday, December 25, 2004

Working on Christmas

I worked my share of Christmas Day shifts, be they mids, days, or evenings. In one department I worked the mind-set of the people that made the schedule was, if you're married you'd want to be home with the family, and if you were single, you had no life, therefore no reason to be off on Christmas. Truth be known, it was the married guys who wanted to work so they could draw overtime, because they had to pay for all the crap they bought for Christmas. I guess they thought the single people were all orphans, and we had no home to go to. Thinking like that got some of them to the rank they were.

But Christmas Day was usually busy. Family fights for instance. You'd get family members that hated each others' guts 364 days of the year anyhow, then put them together for one day. Why should that day be any different? Then the people that didn't get what they wanted for Christmas and star ted a fight. Yeah buddy, show the true meaning of the day and all your Christmas spirit. Then there was the calls that people wouldn't normally call about in the first place. I remember the loose dog call one year. BFD dispatch, so there's a dog running around. I made some snide comment back to the dispatcher, and cut short saying something I knew I would regret later anyhow. At the time I was driving past the local Lutheran Church, where my regular dispatcher, and (horrors!) my mother were both seated, attending the service. All my comments over the radio came right over the preacher's Mr. Microphone system, broadcast for all the congregation to hear. The dispatcher would have ammunition to use against me later. My mother knew that all eyes had gravitated to her because everyone knew her son was a police officer (in her mind) and how could she ever show her face to them again? We got our dog, and I listened to the dispatcher repeat the story to everyone who came through the door later. Enough already!

Then there was the drive through town very early in the shift (7:30 or so) just to count how many Christmas trees had hit the curb already. It's surprising the number I could find. The wife would have that sucker up the minute after Thanksgiving dinner, and the husband would have it down the minute everything was cleared away from under it. More of your spirit of the day there.

People who know me know that there are two words I don't say. I'll say 'em here shortly, but first: if you're on the job today be careful. Watch them family fights. If you're serving in the Armed Forces anywhere, especially Irag, Afghanistan, anywhere you could get shot at, be careful. If your current address is a VA hospital or Veteran's Home, or for instance if you're a WW2 vet who froze your ass (and maybe a few other things) off in the Battle of the Bulge, or if you served during the Korean War (hey folks, anyone remember those guys?), or Viet Nam (no White Christmas there), or if you simply served, Thank You. And Merry Christmas.

1 Comments:

Blogger twentymileblock said...

I just thought I'd say late Merry Christmas. It's the first time I've got to read since we've been home.

January 4, 2005 at 3:48 AM  

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