Weekly Winners

None so extraordinary as to win a spot of their own, so in lieu of I ask:
Why would you call the Police? Robbery? Theft? Assault? Witnessing a homicide? Auto accident? Vandalism? All reasonable and legitimate circumstances to dial those 3 digits on the telephone that summons aide.
NOT OUR MUTANTS.
The old message has been replaced. "To Serve and Protect" has transcended to "Living Your Life Because You Don't Know How To."
Callous you say? Cynical perhaps? Downright sarcastic even?
"Yes, hello. I'm stuck. Been stuck for 45 minutes, I need help." or something so similar the caller tells the dispatch center.
".....go to ***** caller stated he's been stuck in the snow for 45 minutes..." comes across the radio.
"10-4" ("ok", for the non-jargon types)
"So, how did you do this?" I inquire, more than a little peeved as I look at the late 1990's model BMW, rear wheel drive, tires not touching the ground as the car is supported a few centimeters off the road surface by a rather large mound of snow.
"Well, I thought I could get through. I tried pushing it, but it wouldn't move"
"Hmm." or some such sound emanates from my throat as I look at his nice Oxford shoes, dress shirt, tie, slacks, and London Fog coat. "Do you have AAA?"
"Yes, I do" he stated matter-of-factly.
"Ok, so why did you call the police?"
"Well, I'm stuck."
Not really wanting to spend more time than would make me want to do something silly with my sidearm, I asked, "have you tried reverse?"
???
"guess not, let's give it a whirl."
"Ok"
WOW. Look at that! It worked.

There was more to it, but not worth going in to or discussing more. Beyond the usual idiopathic (that's my created word there) tendencies of the public at large in a snow and ice storm, I did find myself giving advice to someone who was a social worker for 10 years. Or, so she claimed.
Basically, the story is simple. Son comes home from rehab. (Come on, give him credit, he's trying). Son gets upset because step-dad is "abusing"mom. Step-dad still goes to the methadone clinic once a week. Mom doesn't know what to do, she argues with step-dad all the time. Oops, mom hasn't been taking her medication lately either. Perhaps there should be a family sit down around the methadone jug.
Anyway, without trying to relate the 40 minutes I stayed in this family's love nest, the nuts and bolts is thus: mom has been feeding son and step-dad two different lines of crap. Son and step-dad don't seem to have a great relationship but alas, I have figured out that their relationship sucks because mom is all screwed up. Son and step-dad talk civilly to each other while I'm there and both realize that mom has been telling them different stories. Meanwhile, mom cries to me because she doesn't work now, doesn't know what to do, wants to know what the next step is, AND she didn't even call the police, her son did but realized that there was no need to, once he started talking to his family.
"Ok, have you considered counselling?"
"Well, I was a social worker for 10 years."
"So, you should be very experienced with talking to people and solving problems, right? Have you tried talking to your family?"
"Well, it never seems to work. Can you tell me what I should do now?"
"You do realize that police are not therapists?"
"Yes, but what is the next step?"
"TALK TO YOUR FAMILY!!!!!!!!! You all have issues and need to sit down and talk."
"Oh, you're right."
"See, your son and husband are talking nicely right now. In fact, they are, at this very movement, discovering that you have been feeding them both shit."
"Oh, well....."
"So I suggest you all sit and YOU had better be honest with them."
"I know, you're right."
"Good bye."

Amazing.