…if the cops don’t get you first.
So I’ve got this friend, or sort of friend (we’ll call him Bob for simplicity’s sake) who got his license suspended last year on a DUI. Oops. So Bob hired me to do a lot of his driving, but he’s been sneaking around town, driving on the sly. Fairly safe bet as far as the odds go, but man, don’t get caught, right?
I’m not quite sure how yet, but Bob got caught today. Oops. He called me on his cell phone this morning, from the back of a squad car, and let me know I wouldn’t have to pick him up today. Cool, I can handle that. But then he calls back a about fifteen minutes later, asking me if I’d drive to his house (he lives about 40 min away) and hang out and come bail him out later this afternoon. Grrrr. But yeah, okay. I mean Bob’s a fuck up in a lot of ways, but not a total fuck up, and he’s still my friend.
So I’m sitting here, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And not a peep from Bob. And I’m supposed to be at work in ten minutes and I was only able to get hold of someone at the warehouse about five minutes ago to tell them I’ll be late (and, I’m sorry, no, I don’t know how late…). I’m about fed up and ready to leave his ass in jail. It won’t actually teach him anything, but it’d serve him right on many levels.
*sigh*
I wish I wasn’t so nice sometimes…
10 September 08 at 4:29 pm
Yeah, actually, I’m not quite sure how this drama is mitigated. Except that it isn’t directly *my* drama. I guess there’s that…
11 September 08 at 2:50 am
[...] Bob, haha. Turns out my friend Bob got nabbed at a roadblock set up during a brown-person sting. State cops were set up checking for [...]
11 September 08 at 8:55 am
Oh. Bob. Why?
I have not yet bailed anyone out of jail. Yet. I’m hoping to keep this particular drama out of my life experience.
11 September 08 at 11:17 am
Bob is a bit of a dolt. With entitlement issues. He’s also over 60, so I don’t think any of that’ll be changing anytime soon…
Fortunately I’m still a bondsman virgin. He didn’t get released until sometime late last night, not sure who sprung him, but it wasn’t me.
*scratches “post bail for employer” off resume*
12 September 08 at 10:31 am
There was a Bob who lived in my building up until recently. He was a decent sort – older, retired, brought my mail (packages) up to my door so no one would run off with them (not a problem anymore, I guess, since the landlords finally got a lock for the front door). He fell during the winter and injured himself and has had to move to a care facility. (This scares me. I sure don’t want to end up broken and old and moved out of my life.) The landlords are currently renovating his apartment and will be moving in themselves in October.
Bob, when he was here, had some interesting guests. They were a couple of guys, probably in their 40s or 50s who used to come around with a lot of beer and cigarettes and they’d sit out with Bob on his porch, or go inside and watch TV. I figured they were family. Apparently, not. The woman upstairs from me (it suddenly occurs to me that I may have told you this – sorry, if I have!) said they were a couple of homeless guys and that one of them was found sleeping on Bob’s porch after he had to be hospitalized again. And she called the cops. And he had some kind of outstanding warrant (outstanding being not so great in this case). And they hauled him off to the hoosegow (is that spelled right?). And instead of being all freaked out about that, I thought, “Wow, Bob had a way more interesting life than ever I knew.”