Case #14 - re The People vs “18 of 22" (Lost in South Central )
Now, it's true that I sometimes let my imagination add a little something, or delete a little detail on some stories, but before you read this one, I want you to understand that there is not one bit of exaggeration in this story! It would be impossible to exaggerate how bad this guy was. He was an absolute moron! If anything, I edited it WAY down because he was so repetitive in his stupidity!
Any Star Trek fans are probably familiar with the character “7 of 9” on one of the “Star Trek” offshoots. If you're not, it's not that important... although she was pretty smokin'. Long before that show came along, Carson Station had a trainee named “18 of 22”. We acquired “18 of 22” when we took over the Marshall’s Office. His real name has been deleted from the memory banks along with all the other useless information, like; what did my wife tell me we're doing tomorrow, again? Who cares? She'll tell me again tomorrow when it matters! People who don’t make it off-training aren’t generally remembered long either. Before I go further, let me explain how “18 of 22” got his nickname. He had twenty one siblings. That's right, TWENTY ONE! He was number eighteen of his parents twentyfrickintwo offspring. Apparently, his mother didn’t believe in “the pill” and his father’s philosophy was one a lot of guys can relate to,
“It doesn’t feel the same with a condom on.”
I got news for you pal, once your kids number in the double digits, it ain’t never gonna feel the same. Fortunately, momma finally emptied her egg crate. Either that, or his dad got his timing right on, “the pull out method”, before kid #23 came along. Which reminds me of the old adage, “Better late than never.”, or maybe, "Shoot first and ask questions later." Oh, how about, "Shoot from the hip." That's pretty appropriate! Back to the case at hand.
Fortunately, I was not “18 of 22’s” training officer. Unfortunately, I was stuck with him for his second week of training, because his T.O went on vacation. Now we all know that when you work with a trainee, you want to get a feel for his capabilities. One of the most important things from day one is, “location awareness”, because, as the real estate adage goes, “Location is everything!” I explained to him how, in Carson station's patrol areas, you could tell what direction you were going by looking at the addresses and what side of the street a location would be on based on the address.
"So, look, in California odd numbered addresses are on the north side of streets that run east-west and on the west side of streets that run north-south. Even numbered addresses are on the south side of streets that run east-west and on the east side of streets that run north-south. Understand?
"YES, SIR!"
We were driving northbound Avalon Bl, so I asked him what street we were on.
"AVALON BOULEVARD, SIR!"
"So, if we had a burglary alarm at 15501 South Avalon Boulevard, what side of the street would that be on?"
"THE WEST SIDE, SIR!"
"Good."
We were passing Alondra Bl. I asked “18 of 22” if he knew where we were.
“YES SIR! AVALON BL, SIR!”, he confidently answered.
“And what street did we just pass?”
“ALONDRA BL, SIR!”
"What direction are we going?"
"NORTH, SIR!"
“Is Avalon Bl a north-south, or east-west street?”
“EAST-WEST, SIR!”
“No. How can we be going north on an east-west street? What are we, crossing the street? Avalon is a north-south. Remember what I told you about three and four digit addresses versus five digit addresses?
“NORTH-SOUTH, YES, SIR! THAT’S WHAT I MEANT TO SAY, SIR! THREE AND FOUR DIGIT ADDRESSES RUN EAST AND WEST IN CARSON'S PATROL AREA AND FIVE DIGIT ADDRESSES RUN NORTH-SOUTH, SIR!”
“Okay, now if you are on a north south street and the numbers are getting lower, what direction are you going?”
“NORTH, SIR!”
“Good. Now look at the addresses are they getting lower or higher?”
“LOWER, SIR!”
“Okay, so what direction are we going?”
“SOUTH, SIR!”
“Nooooo, try again.”
“EAST, SIR!”
“East?”
“I MEAN WEST, SIR!”
“What? How…”
“I MEAN NORTH, SIR! I MEANT TO SAY NORTH!”
“Uh huh.”
I went over all of the address rules again.
“Okay so we are going north. If we make a right turn onto Compton Bl, what direction will we be going?”
“NORTH, SIR!”
I looked at him to see if he was fucking with me. He wasn’t.
“If we are going north and we turn right, how the fuck can we still be going north?”
“I MEAN SOUTH, SIR!”
“Wha..”
“errr, I MEAN WEST, SIR!”
“Wait a ….”
“I MEAN EAST, SIR! I MEANT TO SAY EAST, SIR!”
After about ten minutes of this nonsense, and where he only had four directions to choose from, "18 of 22" did not get a single answer correct. In fact, he usually guessed three wrong directions, before getting the right one through the process of elimination! Even if he was guessing, how could anyone be that bad of a guesser?! With only four answers to choose from, you should get one out of four right. Right?
“Enough of this nonsense!”, I thought. I pulled to the curb and stopped.
“Draw me a compass.”, I directed “18 of 22” . I wanted to see if he even knew how the different directions related to each other.
“Huh?”
“You know. That little thing on a map that shows the directions?”
A blank expression.
“Two lines that cross each other with an ‘E’, a ‘W’ a ‘N’ or an ‘S’ at the end of the lines?”
Still nothing.
I drew it for him.
“Oh, that! Okay, SIR.” He then copied mine and showed it to me with a self-satisfied smile of accomplishment.
“YOU MEAN THIS, SIR?”
“Yeah, that. Do you know what that is?
“YES, SIR! IT’S A COMPASS, SIR!”
“Uh huh.”
Pointing at the different letters on the compass, I asked him if he knew what direction we would be going if we headed in their directions. He answered correctly. So, his problem determining direction was solved. But, just to give him some confidence in his abilities, I went through the location awareness scenario one more time.
“Okay. So we are now eastbound on Compton Bl. What direction are we heading?”
“EAST, SIR!”
“That’s right! Now if I turn right, what direction will we be going?”
“WEST, SIR!”
I stared at him awhile, as he smiled back at me.
“Do you know what the opposite of east is?”
“WEST, SIR!”
“That’s right!” Seconds passed as I waited while that sunk in. Nothing.
“The opposite of east is west! Point west!”
He pointed behind us.
“Point right.”
He did.
“If we make a right turn, what direction will we be heading?”
“EAST, SIR!”
“No! We are heading east now! If we turn, how can we still be going in the same direction? ”
“I MEAN WEST, SIR!”
“No!! You just pointed out that west is behind us! How can we be going west?”
“I MEAN NORTH, SIR!”
“NO!!!”
“I MEAN SOUTH SIR, I MEANT TO SAY SOUTH!”
I decided to switch it up for awhile. We moved on to a related topic, distance.
"Do you know how far it is between streets?"
"Uhhhh..."
I took that as an emphatic no.
"Each street is divided into hundred blocks. The 300 block of east 213th street for instance. The station is in the 213 hundred block of Avalon Boulevard, understand?"
"YES, SIR!"
"The distance between each hundred block, of a street, is a tenth of a mile. the distance between each street is usually about a tenth of a mile, because there is usually a street at the start of each hundred block. So 213th to 214th is a tenth of a mile. So, how far is it between 213th and 223rd Street?"
"A TENTH OF A MILE, SIR!"
..."Wh.....", "...No..." ..... "It's a tenth of a mile between streets... you get that, right?"
"YES, SIR! A TENTH OF A MILE BETWEEN STREETS, SIR!"
"Look at your map. There's 213th, there's 214th. Where's 215th?"
"RIGHT THERE, SIR!"
"Good. So if it's a tenth of a mile between streets, how far is it between two streets?"
"uhhh... TWO TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
Frickin'A, Baby! Now you got it! So, how far is it between 213th Street and 223rd Street?"
"TWO TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
"OH MY FRICKIN' GA... NO!"
"A TENTH OF A MILE, SIR!"
"NO!"
"THREE TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
"NO!"
"FOUR TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
"NO!"
"FIVE..."
"NO! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!... SHUT UP!"
After several hours of this, spread over five days, I came to the conclusion that his parents’, “smarts gene”, had worn out way before the birth of their 18th child.
Verdict – “18 of 22”, this Court finds you Guilty of Having a Broken Inner Compass.
Sentence – On the charge of Having a Broken Inner Compass, this Court revokes your male privilege to be stubborn and you are ordered to always ask your wife for directions.
Now, it's true that I sometimes let my imagination add a little something, or delete a little detail on some stories, but before you read this one, I want you to understand that there is not one bit of exaggeration in this story! It would be impossible to exaggerate how bad this guy was. He was an absolute moron! If anything, I edited it WAY down because he was so repetitive in his stupidity!
Any Star Trek fans are probably familiar with the character “7 of 9” on one of the “Star Trek” offshoots. If you're not, it's not that important... although she was pretty smokin'. Long before that show came along, Carson Station had a trainee named “18 of 22”. We acquired “18 of 22” when we took over the Marshall’s Office. His real name has been deleted from the memory banks along with all the other useless information, like; what did my wife tell me we're doing tomorrow, again? Who cares? She'll tell me again tomorrow when it matters! People who don’t make it off-training aren’t generally remembered long either. Before I go further, let me explain how “18 of 22” got his nickname. He had twenty one siblings. That's right, TWENTY ONE! He was number eighteen of his parents twentyfrickintwo offspring. Apparently, his mother didn’t believe in “the pill” and his father’s philosophy was one a lot of guys can relate to,
“It doesn’t feel the same with a condom on.”
I got news for you pal, once your kids number in the double digits, it ain’t never gonna feel the same. Fortunately, momma finally emptied her egg crate. Either that, or his dad got his timing right on, “the pull out method”, before kid #23 came along. Which reminds me of the old adage, “Better late than never.”, or maybe, "Shoot first and ask questions later." Oh, how about, "Shoot from the hip." That's pretty appropriate! Back to the case at hand.
Fortunately, I was not “18 of 22’s” training officer. Unfortunately, I was stuck with him for his second week of training, because his T.O went on vacation. Now we all know that when you work with a trainee, you want to get a feel for his capabilities. One of the most important things from day one is, “location awareness”, because, as the real estate adage goes, “Location is everything!” I explained to him how, in Carson station's patrol areas, you could tell what direction you were going by looking at the addresses and what side of the street a location would be on based on the address.
"So, look, in California odd numbered addresses are on the north side of streets that run east-west and on the west side of streets that run north-south. Even numbered addresses are on the south side of streets that run east-west and on the east side of streets that run north-south. Understand?
"YES, SIR!"
We were driving northbound Avalon Bl, so I asked him what street we were on.
"AVALON BOULEVARD, SIR!"
"So, if we had a burglary alarm at 15501 South Avalon Boulevard, what side of the street would that be on?"
"THE WEST SIDE, SIR!"
"Good."
We were passing Alondra Bl. I asked “18 of 22” if he knew where we were.
“YES SIR! AVALON BL, SIR!”, he confidently answered.
“And what street did we just pass?”
“ALONDRA BL, SIR!”
"What direction are we going?"
"NORTH, SIR!"
“Is Avalon Bl a north-south, or east-west street?”
“EAST-WEST, SIR!”
“No. How can we be going north on an east-west street? What are we, crossing the street? Avalon is a north-south. Remember what I told you about three and four digit addresses versus five digit addresses?
“NORTH-SOUTH, YES, SIR! THAT’S WHAT I MEANT TO SAY, SIR! THREE AND FOUR DIGIT ADDRESSES RUN EAST AND WEST IN CARSON'S PATROL AREA AND FIVE DIGIT ADDRESSES RUN NORTH-SOUTH, SIR!”
“Okay, now if you are on a north south street and the numbers are getting lower, what direction are you going?”
“NORTH, SIR!”
“Good. Now look at the addresses are they getting lower or higher?”
“LOWER, SIR!”
“Okay, so what direction are we going?”
“SOUTH, SIR!”
“Nooooo, try again.”
“EAST, SIR!”
“East?”
“I MEAN WEST, SIR!”
“What? How…”
“I MEAN NORTH, SIR! I MEANT TO SAY NORTH!”
“Uh huh.”
I went over all of the address rules again.
“Okay so we are going north. If we make a right turn onto Compton Bl, what direction will we be going?”
“NORTH, SIR!”
I looked at him to see if he was fucking with me. He wasn’t.
“If we are going north and we turn right, how the fuck can we still be going north?”
“I MEAN SOUTH, SIR!”
“Wha..”
“errr, I MEAN WEST, SIR!”
“Wait a ….”
“I MEAN EAST, SIR! I MEANT TO SAY EAST, SIR!”
After about ten minutes of this nonsense, and where he only had four directions to choose from, "18 of 22" did not get a single answer correct. In fact, he usually guessed three wrong directions, before getting the right one through the process of elimination! Even if he was guessing, how could anyone be that bad of a guesser?! With only four answers to choose from, you should get one out of four right. Right?
“Enough of this nonsense!”, I thought. I pulled to the curb and stopped.
“Draw me a compass.”, I directed “18 of 22” . I wanted to see if he even knew how the different directions related to each other.
“Huh?”
“You know. That little thing on a map that shows the directions?”
A blank expression.
“Two lines that cross each other with an ‘E’, a ‘W’ a ‘N’ or an ‘S’ at the end of the lines?”
Still nothing.
I drew it for him.
“Oh, that! Okay, SIR.” He then copied mine and showed it to me with a self-satisfied smile of accomplishment.
“YOU MEAN THIS, SIR?”
“Yeah, that. Do you know what that is?
“YES, SIR! IT’S A COMPASS, SIR!”
“Uh huh.”
Pointing at the different letters on the compass, I asked him if he knew what direction we would be going if we headed in their directions. He answered correctly. So, his problem determining direction was solved. But, just to give him some confidence in his abilities, I went through the location awareness scenario one more time.
“Okay. So we are now eastbound on Compton Bl. What direction are we heading?”
“EAST, SIR!”
“That’s right! Now if I turn right, what direction will we be going?”
“WEST, SIR!”
I stared at him awhile, as he smiled back at me.
“Do you know what the opposite of east is?”
“WEST, SIR!”
“That’s right!” Seconds passed as I waited while that sunk in. Nothing.
“The opposite of east is west! Point west!”
He pointed behind us.
“Point right.”
He did.
“If we make a right turn, what direction will we be heading?”
“EAST, SIR!”
“No! We are heading east now! If we turn, how can we still be going in the same direction? ”
“I MEAN WEST, SIR!”
“No!! You just pointed out that west is behind us! How can we be going west?”
“I MEAN NORTH, SIR!”
“NO!!!”
“I MEAN SOUTH SIR, I MEANT TO SAY SOUTH!”
I decided to switch it up for awhile. We moved on to a related topic, distance.
"Do you know how far it is between streets?"
"Uhhhh..."
I took that as an emphatic no.
"Each street is divided into hundred blocks. The 300 block of east 213th street for instance. The station is in the 213 hundred block of Avalon Boulevard, understand?"
"YES, SIR!"
"The distance between each hundred block, of a street, is a tenth of a mile. the distance between each street is usually about a tenth of a mile, because there is usually a street at the start of each hundred block. So 213th to 214th is a tenth of a mile. So, how far is it between 213th and 223rd Street?"
"A TENTH OF A MILE, SIR!"
..."Wh.....", "...No..." ..... "It's a tenth of a mile between streets... you get that, right?"
"YES, SIR! A TENTH OF A MILE BETWEEN STREETS, SIR!"
"Look at your map. There's 213th, there's 214th. Where's 215th?"
"RIGHT THERE, SIR!"
"Good. So if it's a tenth of a mile between streets, how far is it between two streets?"
"uhhh... TWO TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
Frickin'A, Baby! Now you got it! So, how far is it between 213th Street and 223rd Street?"
"TWO TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
"OH MY FRICKIN' GA... NO!"
"A TENTH OF A MILE, SIR!"
"NO!"
"THREE TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
"NO!"
"FOUR TENTHS OF A MILE, SIR!"
"NO!"
"FIVE..."
"NO! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!... SHUT UP!"
Verdict – “18 of 22”, this Court finds you Guilty of Having a Broken Inner Compass.
Sentence – On the charge of Having a Broken Inner Compass, this Court revokes your male privilege to be stubborn and you are ordered to always ask your wife for directions.
Did he make it pasr training?
ReplyDeleteNO!
ReplyDeleteI think he quit in lieu of termination, but I'm not certain.
Delete