Last night I didn't get off at my normal time. Just how long did I end up staying over? Only 2 hours and 45 minutes. Now, in the long scheme of life, that's not really that much. In the past, at other agencies, I worked double shifts (16 hours) or stayed past my normal 8 hours for a half shift to work 12 hours. At NDOW, we work a 4/10 so last night put me just under a 13 hour day (or in my case, a night). Right now, I work a bit of a varied schedule. I can flex a little if needed. Still, when that clock hits 2300 it's nice knowing I can sign out and go home - usually.
Except for last night. There's nothing like getting home at 0200 hours in the morning. Not even the crickets are making any noise. The dog looked disgusted when I woke him up.
Some guard dog Moshuh is. I could have taken down all of the swords, disrobed the knights, packed up the helms, and had half the shields pulled off the wall before he'd let out one bark.
I either need a younger dog or an alarm.
To add insult, Moshuh had the nerve to wake me up at 0700 so he could go outside. Couldn't he have gone out when my husband was getting ready for work so I could sleep in? I wish!
A strange voice is echoing in my head as I stumble through the Comm Center door this afternoon, "Do you understand that this job may require the occasional last minute overtime?" How many times did I tell that to hopeful young faces sitting across from me in a room during oral boards? Is this Kharma coming back to laugh in my face?
My Supervisor, a dead-ringer for Walter Mitty, who sometimes doubles for Charlie Brown in October (you should see his rock collection in the office) welcomes me as the door opens. "How late did you stay last night?"
Really? I wrote it down...along with a long note about a survey flight to be done. Mondays are busy and he was by himself until 1300 (when my trainee arrived - I came in an hour late to flex my time). Trying to be better than I used to be, I say hello, juggling my cheesburger & smoothie (this is the perfect excuse to eat unhealthy).
"0145 - I left as soon as he cleared the jail. I'm dragging today."
"That happens some shifts."
"Yeah, yeah." I grumbled to the Supervisor, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it." I then proceed to explain why I had to wait out the almost three hours.
You see, warden arrested the suspect and took him to the county lock-up. The drive alone took over an hour ONCE the FSTs and initial field work was completed. Once at county, well...take a number, dude. At least the blood draws are done immediately, but after that? To make it worse, the officer was in a real bad radio spot. Until he made it to the jail, I didn't who he had or why. I did send him cover, which arrived very quickly. Once at the jail - hurry up and wait. Only then could I actually do any of the paperwork. Mutilple phone calls back & forth, I was able to finish what I needed to do.
Did you ever see the movie Beetlejuice? Do you remember the scene where the dead couple goes to hell to meet with the counseloron how to get the living out of their house? Uh huh. Take a number and have a seat. Even the PoPo gots to wait when tha j-boyz are doing the paperwork. Watch your man and no funny stuff.
That translates to dispatch can't go home until patrol is clear from booking. Thank goodness I don't have far to go. The days of over the bridge and past the hills commute is long gone. I'll take the close-enough-to-stumble-to-home drive any day.
Summmer is here, and my comp time balance is going to grow.
Oh look, it's just about time to sign off.
Stay safe out there!