My long arms of the law

I came home the other night and parked by the pool and saw this:

That's not an open gate; that's a broken fence. The guy that broke it did that so he could access the back window of my apartment complex management office. I know this because he was in the process of doing so when I discovered the break in the fence. I saw it, listened for noise and could see somebody inside the pool area. I called the cops and waited. They got there quickly, two cars. When they pulled up, the guy got scared and took off running, but he had apparently forgotten where the break in the fence was and did two panicked laps around the whole pool, looking for it before stopping, putting his hands behind his head and proclaiming, "I wasn't doing nothing". The cops asked me a couple of questions and I went upstairs and went to bed.

For whatever reason, stuff like this happens around me frequently. I don't understand but I'm starting to get used to it...which is a little scary in itself. I've had friends who know about this and the fact that my dad was a cop, and they wonder why I never became one. Well, aside from the fact that my mother told me at a young age that she would support my decision to pursue any career as long as it wasn't law enforcement, there's the fact that I know myself too well. And I know that I don't have the temperament or patience to be a cop. I don't know how they do it, but I know that my excessively low tolerance for idiocy combined with access to weapons would be a recipe for disaster. Especially now that there is such a thing as the Taser. Maybe in the old days, when all cops had were guns, the moral implications of ending someone's life might have given me pause if some dumbass had annoyed me. But the moral implications of causing a few minutes of (admittedly severe) discomfort? Pffft! I'd be Tasing people left and right...

• "I had a few beers but I'm fine. I drive better after a couple of dri..." BZZZZT! ticktickticktick...
• "It's my dog and if I feel like kicking it, then by God...." BZZZZT! ticktickticktick...
• "Hey, listen to me motherfu..." BZZZZT! ticktickticktick...
• "Excuse me, officer. Can you please tell me where the post offic..." BZZZZT! ticktickticktick...

You get the idea. I can clearly visualize myself walking down the street in my crisp, clean Tampa Police Department uniform, changing the batteries in my Taser (again) with groaning, twitching bodies strewn all over the sidewalk behind me. They make police recruits get Tased now during their training, so they understand just how unpleasant it is, with the idea that they'll employ discretion before doing it to someone else. That would probably have the exact opposite effect on me. If I got Tased, I'd be pissed and I would want to spread that around, to everybody, all the time.

So there you go. In spite of the bloodline, I am just not police material. I'm glad there are people who are...just as glad as you should be that I know I'm not.