The Front Desk

One of the shit jobs that rolls around at the police department from time to time is working the front desk. It is a most hated job because you would stay incredibly busy and you are stuck inside for an entire shift. You sit at a desk separated from the public by bullet proof glass so that you can take reports and or complaints from walk-ins, and fill out the paperwork for bonds. There is a phone on the desk that makes you cringe when it rings because you know it is someone that the dispatchers could not satisfy. Most of the time, desk duty is given to officers that are temporarily on light duty due to injuries. I always thought that the powers that be believe that desk duty was good medicine and it promoted rapid healing.

One day on day shift, Tommy G. was assigned to the desk. He was not a happy man. Tommy could only be described as a unique individual. He was short for a man and his gut hung so far over his waistband that you couldn’t see the buckle on his gun belt. What little hair he had was greasy and graying. He perpetually had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth or jammed between his thumb and index finger like someone would hold a joint. The smoking issue was one of the reasons that he was so unhappy about the assignment, he couldn’t smoke in the building or out front. That meant that he could only have a smoke break when a unit came in with an arrest or to do reports which on a Saturday morning wasn’t often.

Tommy had a gravelly voice that was plain grating and he talked loudly! When he was on patrol, he didn’t do much patrolling. He would come in to squad meeting in the morning and as soon as he hit the street, he would go home. He would remove his gun belt, sign onto his computer, and stay there until he absolutely had to leave on a call. He would try anything to get out of a call. He was divorced and dated some less than classy women. Tommy bragged that he could speak Spanish enough to take a report or make an arrest.

I had stopped by the office to drop off some reports when I heard Tommy greet someone coming in the door of the police department. No one said anything back to him so I glanced through the door to see who had come in. There was a Hispanic couple standing there talking to each other in Spanish.

Tommy: [in a lazy, non-interested voice] Need help?

Couple: [rather excitedly] Necesito ambulancia.

Tommy: [raising his voice] You need sumpthin, you gotta tell me.

Couple looking at each other confused.

Couple: [frustrated] Necesito ambulancia.

Tommy: [yelling louder] Oh, no Englisho! Needo helpo?

WTF? His “Spanish” consisted of saying everything in English with an “o” added to the end of each word in a very loud voice because talking louder helps people understand in a language they don’t speak! ROFLMAO, what a dweeb!

Fortunately, an officer that actually spoke Spanish happened in the door and got the poor people an ambulance. I don’t believe that they were amused!