Tuesday, June 23, 2009

One Of Those Days. Or Two.

The past few days have all qualified as "one of those days." Between having to take care of every aspect of my life (someone normal to date, for one thing, since I don't think I've ever had a good date and the last guy I went out with was a horror story. And a place to live this coming year. And a job so I can pay for the place I'm hopefully living in. Etc.) and having to take care of more immediate things (how am I getting to Lakewood for a good friend's wedding? How am I getting back? Where am I sleeping? Etc.), it was just about the last straw when I had to get fingerprinted for a small summer job I have in July and, after being told to wait half an hour yesterday because everyone was out to lunch, and then being told to come back today because only one person was working there, I was then told today that I have to wait about half an hour to an hour because, again, "I'm the only one working here." Geez. You DO know it takes about two minutes to fingerprint someone, right?

(Phew! Long run on. Everyone take a moment and catch your breath.)

Anyway, while I was waiting, an Indian man came in - also to be fingerprinted - and he was also told to wait. So we talked a little bit. He was very nice. I forgot his name though - something like...Isal? Something like that. Anyway, he asked me if I was interested in business and finance because that's where he works. I said no. He told me he's licensed in 42 states and he's getting fingerprinted to be licensed in another one. I told him that was cool.

Anyway, I'm sure you're all fascinated by our small conversation. Point is, after about 50 minutes of waiting, they finally fingerprinted me. They kept asking me if I wanted to go and come back later, but I decided the only way they'd actually do it is if I sat there waiting for them. So I did.

After getting fingerprinted (again, which took only two minutes), I went to the parking lot of the police station to get my car. I got in the car. Then I started to pull out of the spot.

Now, this has never happened to me before. Ever. So it's just my luck that it would happen, suddenly, in a police station parking lot with a bunch of actual policemen milling around talking. I backed up a bit too far into someone else's car.

I could see the expressions on the policemen's faces. They cringed, as if saying, "whoa boy."

"You want to take this?" one said to the other with a tiny smirk.

The other grinned and said, "sure."

I got out of my car and saw that there was no damage at all to the car I had backed into. Just to mine (my dad's, really). It wasn't even so terrible, but it would have to be fixed.

"Hang on a minute, we're just going to find out whose car this is," the policeman told me. I said okay.

Moments later, a tall, good-looking, intimidating, uniformed man came over to me.

"Hi. That's my car."

I swallowed.

"Oh."

Figures it would belong to a police officer. I must have looked terrified - gosh, I felt terrified - like I was going to be arrested or something. But somehow, I think the officer was even more nervous than I was.

"This your car?"

"N-no, it's my dad's... I'm really, really sorry!"

"Oh, don't worry about my car! My car's good - it's perfect! It's just your car...you're not going to file a report, are you?"

"I...don't think so?"

"Why don't you call your dad and find out. I can talk to him if you want."

"Okay."

So I called my dad, but his phone was off. I called my mom and she said to get the officer's information just in case.

"So, um, my mom said probably not but I have to check with my dad, so can I, um, have your phone number...?"

"Oh, sure!" He handed me his card and I dropped it onto the seat beside me. "I'm working here the next two days, too, so feel free to drop by if there are any problems."

"Okay...thank you."

He left. And then I left. (Very Carefully.)

When I turned out of the parking lot and stopped at a stop sign, I glanced over at the card he left.

It said Detective.

...No way. An actual detective?!

Great. So I backed into a detective's car. And he was worried about me?

Anyway...it's been a stressful two days (/summer, because of all the bigger stuff weighing on my mind). I think I need a hug.

4 comments:

Diana said...

{HUGS}

corner point said...

(((hug!!)))

Lon said...

:-D Awesome!

First of all, I have to say, you are sooo lucky the only damage was to your car. I crunched someone's bumper a few weeks ago within two weeks of buying a car and my own insurance. It was not fun. I can't believe you're upset about the incident when it worked out so well.

And a detective gave you his phone number! ;-)

Something Different said...

I had a really bad experience when I was getting fingerprinted too. Well, it wasn'tas bad as yours, but it instilled in me a life long fear of cops and law. The cop who fingerprinted me was the nastiest police ever. He bragged about giving a ticket to his own big brother.
Then he pulled out the law book and showed me that there are hundreds of obscure laws out there that nobody but him knows about, but that he could give a ticket to anyone he wants to, and that everyone is always doing something wrong.
I think the moral of the story is don't take a job that requires fingerprinting. ;-)