Professional Discourtesy

The radio was on. Aromatic steam filtered out of the lid of my coffee mug. The window was down, and I smiled as I took my first hit of morning coffee and maneuvered single-handedly through the quiet streets of Bellefonte. The rough edges from my short, 2-hr night’s sleep were smoothing out. The hot shower a half-hour prior had nudged me into consciousness, and the time since had lessened the irritability and fogginess. I took another sip from my mug and sighed audibly with contentment, though there was no one to hear it but me. The coffee was taking the final steps to making me human.

As I made the corner near the metal plant, I saw headlights approaching in my rearview. I didn’t give it much thought, as I took another sip of coffee and enjoyed the morning breeze on my face. Then the blue lights came on.

I sighed again, this time with mild irritation, and set my cup in the console as I pulled over. There goes the day…

I had all the usual stuff ready when the officer came to my window – license, registration, proof of insurance, handgun permit, and badge. And, despite the early hour, and despite the patrol spotlight expertly aimed right at my sideview mirror and into my eyes, I smiled at the officer as I handed him my information. “You were going awfully fast for this time of day,” he said almost absently as he looked over the documents.

Really? Because its 2:45am, and there’s no one on the road. Would you rather I speed while following a school bus, with bumper-to-bumper oncoming traffic?? Despite my sarcastic inner commentary, I chose not to say anything aloud.

The officer gave me the once over. “Going anyplace in particular in such a hurry?” I had all I could do not to laugh, as I looked down at my corrections uniform.

“Ummm… work?” Really, I’m just driving around aimlessly in the middle of the night in my uniform because it’s so fucking stylish. Dumbass.

“Well, I’ll be right back.” And the officer went back to his car, and proceeded to spend the next 15 minutes running my information, all the while his spotlight is still shining in my eyes, and time is ticking down to making me dangerously close to being late for work. He finally returns to my vehicle, hands me my information back, and says, “Well, here you go. You really need to slow down. It’s only 35mph through here, and I clocked you doing 41mph”.

I smiled, and because my patience had worn thin, so had my ability to be nice. “Well, glad you’re being vigilant out here. Because you know, it’s a high traffic area and all.” Sarcasm dripped from my tone. Inside, my voice of reason winced. But my cheery mood had been darkened by this particular cops lack of observation, and over-zealous need to pull people over for 6mph over the speed limit.

He just smiled, the sarcasm clearly going over his head. He gave me the once-over again, and suddenly something changed on his face. It was like he finally noticed the uniform, and made the connection. “Hey, you work at Centre County Prison, don’t you?”

I smiled sweetly. “Nope. I just like the uniform. Have a nice day.”

And so my morning started. I got to work on time, at the charming hour of 3am, and worked my four hours of overtime without incident. Now it’s time to see what the rest of the day brings…