Traffic Safety

During one summer in college, I worked at a city-sponsored nonprofit of sorts that forced convicted drunk drivers to take a series of courses emphasizing the dangers of driving while intoxicated. Needless to say, I met some really interesting salt of the Earth types. To be perfectly honest, I got the feeling right away that the place was a scam and that there was nothing nonprofit about it, but who was I to judge? I only stayed there because the place was run by an aunt of this idiot I was seeing at the time and it was too late to find a new job mid-summer.

Amazingly, the employees that worked there each had their own story that in one way or another tied them to some aspect of traffic safety. It was incredible. Having no such story of my own, I felt like an outsider. Yvonne, a 40’s something mother of three, for example, had lost her husband in a drunk driving accident six years prior. When I attempted to share my condolences, she cut me off and said, “Save your breath. The bastard was also drunk so really they both did themselves and me a big favor. Life has been much better ever since I got that call, I can tell you that much.” Powerful stuff that really came through in her work.

My favorite encounter with a “client,” came toward the end of my traffic safety experience. I knew as soon as he showed up that he was going to add some spice to my day. I could smell him from my desk.

“Dennis for 1:30,” he spat out.

“Dennis Mitchell?” I asked.

Perhaps I had subconsciously eyed the appointment book as he was speaking, but either way, it turns out I was right about the name. If you haven’t been on this Earth as long as I have, you may have forgotten the cartoon from either the 80’s or 90’s (can’t remember) called “Dennis the Menace.” Think Bart Simpson, but more wholesome in his mischief. Anyway, Dennis the cartoon’s last name was Mitchell, just like the drunk standing in front of me. At that moment, the smart ass of the office interrupted the intake process to let me know I had a very urgent phone call.

“Hey, there’s a Mr. Wilson on the phone for you - something about a broken window, he says he knows it’s you and that you’d better pick up. He sounds pretty mad. You should get this, I can finish with Mr. Mitchell up there.”

I wish I hadn’t burst out laughing, but I did. I mean, it was funny, and I like laughing. The angry figure stood before me, threatening to jump over the counter with his eyes, mumbling, “Every damned day I get this. Every. Single. Day.” I almost felt bad for him, but then saw on his form that he had been through the alcohol safety class we offered five times already.

“Do you want me to go over the class schedule or do you pretty much have that down?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t even be here this time.”

“I don’t know, Sir. It says here that this is your sixth drunk driving offense. I mean, I sort of agree with you as you should probably be in jail by this point, but…”

“I wasn’t even driving!” He yelled. “Since when do people get drunk driving tickets on snow mobiles? This is BS...All of it.”

Family Pets

My brother has a dog called Alvis. He wanted to name it Elvis, but it’s a female, so he settled on Alvis.