Me, the lousy cop
Yes. Mr. Taxpayer, I think you identified me. I fit exactly in any category you want me to fit.
I'm always classfied, categorized and I'm always typical.
Unfortunately I can't say the same of you, since I never know who you are.
From the very first moment you teach your children that I'm the scapegoat and then you are shocked, when I'm beeing compared with my traditional enemy, the criminal.
I'm beeing accused of handling young punks too soft, until I pick up your kid.
You allow yourself an hour lunch-break and quite some other breaks, but accuse me of beeing lazy if I sit down once in a while. You are proud of your manners, but don't hesitate to interrupt my lunch-break for your problems.
You get in rage, if someone cuts you in traffic, but when I stop you because of the same incident, you feel this is unfair. You know all the traffic-rules, but have never ever gotten a ticket that was justified.
You complain if I drive high-speed to a crime-scene, but get in rage if it takes more than ten seconds to respond to your call.
You think it's part of my job to get beaten. If I react on it, it's called Police brutality.
You would never think of explaining your doctor, how to operate an appendix or how to interpret an MRI scan, but you are always willing to give me good legal advice.
You talk to me in a way that would earn you a bloody nose in any other situation, but expect me to accept this without any reaction.
You scream: "Someone has to do something about all these crimes!", but won't do something on your own initiative and don't want to be bothered.
You really don't think good of me, but it's totally ok if I help your wife change a tire, or help her on the way to the hospital, rescue the life of your boy by doing CPR, or work overtime to find your little girl that has run from home.
So, Mr. Taxpayer, there you are. You complain how I do my job, call me all kinds of names, but forget, that your property, your family or even your life could depend on me or one of my colleagues.
Yes Sir, Mr. Taxpayer, it's me: The lousy cop.