I Am Veal

This morning my phone rang at 3:00 AM. The Fort Worth police department called to inform me that a perp (that is cop lingo) had attempted to break into Fussy and Bitchy Inc. (My place of employment). I am first on the alarm company’s contact list.

It makes total sense that if armed robbers, hell bent on raping, robbing, and pillaging, break into your place of business at three in the morning you should send the 120 (or so) pound, aging, far-sighted employee who lives the farthest from the scene of the crime to risk her life surveying the damage while you and your penis sleep peacefully across town breathing through your mouth and involuntarily flexing your bi-ceps dreaming of raping, robbing, and pillaging of the white collar kind.

It is important to note that in a recent office poll I was voted first on the menu if the employees of Fussy & Bitchy Inc. were ever snow bound ala, the Donner party, in the mountains. I made my case for eating Mr. Fussy Pants (My ADD, OCD boss) first because imagine the relief we would all feel when the incessant whining stopped.

When Fussy was disqualified for being too gristly, I offered up a limb as a last resort. I mean really, how hungry are these bastards going to be? They all have laptops and I-phones can’t they twitter for help or something? How long could it take to be rescued? Are they going to eat me because they missed lunch?

I thought it was generous of me to volunteer an extremity as bait to attract a marauding bear so that my comrades could stone it to death with frozen mortgage calculators. Problem solved. They did not buy it. In the end I was out voted. It seems that despite being long in the tooth. I am a better candidate for epicurean delights of the human variety, because all of my life I have lived in a confined area, never exercising, and receiving frequent massages.
I am veal.

If your coworkers are willing to eat you, they are more than happy to send your skinny ass to a crime scene at 3:00 AM.

Anyway, when the phone rang this morning I was in the middle of a dream where in Brittany Spears entrusted me with one of her adorable children. Said child was ensconced in the backseat of Hilda the miracle of German engineering that is my car on the way to the New Digs for safekeeping. I looked in the rear view mirror to reassure myself that I, unlike Brit-Brit had secured said toddler in a safety tested child seat. It was then I realized that the aforementioned pop star's baby was the size of Polly Pocket. It was during the ensuing panic that the phone rang. My sedated brain assumed it was the tiny tot’s mother calling for a progress report….


Tobi: “Hello, Brit?" Everything is fine, just fine… (Obviously, if you mistakenly shrink someone’s kid you lie).

Officer C: “Hello Ma’am? Ma'am are you there? This is the Fort Worth Police department. We have a break- in reported at Fussy and Bitchy Inc. Officers are en route. Can I call you back at this number if you are needed at the scene?”

Tobi: (Still groggy but riding a wave of relief from realizing that she will not be spending the rest of her days in a federal prison for being a child shrinker, also noticing that the uniformed voice on the other end of the phone sounded beautiful, like that of a nightingale.) responds with a tryptophan infused- Oh, YES-- Yes! Please do. I cannot wait. Call me back. Do you need me to come now? Maybe I could help apprehend the bad guys. You could use my arm for bait. I would give you a foot but I really like shoes. What did you say your name was? Officer?

Officer C: “Ma’am this is Officer Campbell from the Fort Worth Police Department. Are you all right? Do you understand what I am saying? Can I call you back at this number?”

Tobi: “Yes, Officer Campbell I am fine (wink- wink) I understand. I will be waiting for your call. Oh, Officer Campbell? By the way, are you married ? Kids? Gay? What is the story Officer Campbell? Because really? It is 3:00 AM and if you are married, gay, or otherwise unavailable could you just tell me now and I will come as I am with bed head and smeared mascara and wrinkled jammie pants. However, If you are single and searching I will happily apply lipstick and brush my teeth because really? I am much cuter with lipstick.
I am like veal. ..”

Officer C:

Tobi: “Crap, I need coffee.”

I hung up the phone and sent Fussy a text message. “We have been attacked. Do not worry. Officer Campbell and I are on the case” I briefly considered putting on a cocktail dress and strappy sandals to give Officer Campbell the impression that my incoherent ramblings were the result of partying the night away with my hip and trendy friends. I decided against it. There is no way I could pass a field sobriety test at 3:00 AM in strappy sandals even with no cocktails. I did apply lipstick (Just in case). Then I waited…and waited.

I imagined myself as Mrs. Officer Campbell. This is how fate works, correct? When you least expect it a policeman with the voice of a nightingale calls and you fall in love and live happily ever after. Right?

Officer Campbell never called. I had to call him (which is totally against the advice of my mom Big Judes). When I reached him, he apologized for the oversight. Apparently, no evidence of a break-in was found. This sounded a lot like the standard brush off “It’s not you, really. It’s me.”

This leads me to ask, How desperate is the situation when men who are duty bound (and paid) to serve and protect take your number and never call?

Out-T.

image:http://www.richwooders.com/book/miscellaneous/policeman/richwood.htm