22 Jun

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

But I think I watch Cops too much.

“Whatcha gonna do?  Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?”

Panic and start talking too much, that’s whatcha I do when they come for me.

I’m so intimidated by law enforcement, I don’t even know how to act.

An officer pulled along side me at a red light and spoke to me.

“Hey, is that a tea-cup Yorkie?”

I slowly turn my head towards to him and make a gesture like, “Me?”

“No, your dog.”

Oh, thanks, because I thought you were referring to me as tea-cup, Officer.

He rolls his window down a little more so I can hear him.

“Your dog, a tea-cup Yorkie?”

“Yeah, it is.”

But it’s not.

I just lied to law enforcement.

I’m like one of those people who falsely confesses to murder.

Obviously he’s a master interrogator.

I’m sure he’s trained to detect lies and I start to pat down my dog’s hair in an effort to make him look smaller.

“My daughter wants one but I’m not going to pay all that money for just a dog.  Where did you get yours?”

“Um, well, he was in a puppy mill for a few years, he’s four, or they think he is, they really don’t know, his name is Baxter, he’s a good dog, scared of a lot of things but we’re working on that.  He went to a shelter for a month.  Maybe it was two months.  Then I adopted him.”

He paused for a while.

“Yeah.”  He leaned over a little closer and looked at me like he was trying to figure out if I was possibly hearing impaired or a slow person.  “But where did you get him?”

“I don’t remember.  It’s a small town, I haven’t been there before. It was dark when I went.  Well, it was getting dark when I got there but very dark coming back and raining really hard so it was a long drive.  But I didn’t speed in case you were wondering and I just got this car so there may be stuff in here from the previous owner.  But, um, it’s a small shelter and the lady that runs it is nice.  You would like her.”

He just looked at me again.

I look away and focus my attention on the neighborhood.  I put a smile on my face so he might think I’m admiring how crime-free it is.

He drives off.

I’m probably a person of interest for some crime that hasn’t occurred yet because he’s going to remember me and my ramblings and know I’m guilty of something.

I can’t help it!

I watch Cops.  I know how these things can go down.

I know that one minute you can be sitting there and the cop is very nice and telling you your tail light is out and you tell him you were unaware and promise to fix it immediately, then he asks you to step out of the car and the next thing you know you are cuffed in the back seat of the cruiser watching him search your car for drugs, and you’re sweating profusely because they never open a window, not even a crack, and they pretend they are concerned about you bumping your head when you get in the car but they should be really be more concerned about you suffocating.

I’m so jealous of those people who can be smooth and talk to law enforcement and work their way out of a ticket.

I’m talking about women, of course.

Not all women.  But cute women, with cute ample assets, cute little stories they tell in a cute little voice and add a cute little cry for good measure.

I have nothing cute.

So, I use what I have.

The social work card.

It’s not a card of course, it’s a degree.

A degree obtained to help save the world but in the end, it just comes in handy to get a few looks of sympathy and pity when you answer the question, “What do you do?”

I can’t take credit for this scheme.  I never thought of it until I was pulled over in this small town.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”


“Where you headed?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m late for an appointment at this foster home down the street.”

And there it was.  He softened a little.  Sympathy flashed across his face.


“I’m a social worker.”

I try to look sad, more tired, more over-worked and more poor than I already do.

“Do you have a work ID?”


I eagerly hand it to him because apparently there is a fake social worker scam going on in this area.

In the picture on the ID I look young and tan and happy.

He might not recognize me.

That picture was taken before I started the job.  If I line up all my social work ID’s from over the years, they look similar to the mug shots used to show the progressive deterioration of crack users.

Believe me, crack is not the only thing that is whack.

I mumble words like abuse, adoption and court reports during our conversation just in case it helps.

I used this strategy until one day it backfired on me.

“Can I see your license and registration?”

“My social work license or drivers license because I have both.”

“Drivers license and registration!”

Apparently he didn’t hear me say social work.

“I pulled you over because you only have a rear license plate.  Missouri requires one on the front and back.”

“Oh, I was just on my way to work, social work, and I have the other plate, child abuse, in my trunk, foster home, but didn’t have any way to attach it, neglectful parents, to the front bumper.  So, low pay, I’m really sorry about that.  I’ll fix it, overworked, right away.

“I also noticed your tail light is out.”

“Social work?”

” You’re going to need to step out of the car. “

7 Responses to “Cops”

  1. Stephanie June 22, 2011 at 11:35 AM #

    Maybe that’s why my mom never gets a ticket. . .she uses the social work card!! lol So totally funny because I am the same way with cops, tongue-tied and overly nervous–so bad you would think I was hauling a dead body around in my trunk or something!

  2. thoughtsofafatgirl June 23, 2011 at 12:09 PM #

    How funny!!! I thought I was the only one to act like this to anyone that has a little authority. We should start a club. love it!!

  3. Marianne Hamer June 23, 2011 at 6:44 PM #

    I’m laughing so hard my husband is shushing me from the other room. Lisa, give me more of this.

  4. Sara June 24, 2011 at 12:00 AM #

    This is hilarious! You failed to mention the other exception for getting out of tickets…when the cop went to the same high school — thanks Tony. Keep writing!!!

  5. Mindy June 24, 2011 at 3:18 PM #

    Lisa- That was soooo funny! You are great!

  6. betweenthemusic June 24, 2011 at 5:36 PM #

    Made me smile as I was reading it.. I’d be just the same..must remember the social worker excuse 🙂

  7. Shahi Hafez June 28, 2011 at 9:01 AM #

    hahahahaha COPS. I have a favorite! The one where an undercover cop dresses like a clown to bust some hookers. WHYYY is that necessary ahhaha

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