DIC.....Don't Interpret Chaos

Heya, did you miss me?  Yeah, I missed you two.  The days were starting to get away
with me so it's a good thing my wonderful friend Kay pulled me back in and told me to
get back to work. 

Today and tonight I have spent with my family.  Well...some of them.  We had a meeting
for my nephew, who is running for county Sheriff.  No, he's not The Big Kahuna.  Getting this
far in my blogs, you know how important these elections are to us.  They really do set a stan-
dard, in some ways.  Maybe that's just a personal thing I'm seeing and it's not really a stan-
dard at all.  Hell, I don't know.  Anyway, onward and upward in the political race for county
Sheriff and good luck to my nephew.

Tonight's (or maybe I should say this morning's) blog is dedicated to whom I refer most often
to as my boss, or Master K., but for the blog's sake, we call him DIC.  Now don't go thinking I'm
calling my boss a dick either.  Although it's not above me to do that.  He's more of a prick
 than a dick anyway.  DIC is short for Deputy In Charge.  Yes, Dic it shall be. 
The first time I ever came into contact (that I knew about) with this man was when he called me
to come in for a job interview.  I couldn't have picked him out of a line of midget clowns
riding in on a herd of rat's waving flags.  Seriously.  And yes.....there's a reason I included that.
Maybe I'll tell you.  Maybe I won't.  So the call for the interview for the jail position was our very
first contact with each other.  Immediately I liked him.  Something about the way he spoke. 
And I could tell over the phone that no matter what this man looked like, he had a wrinkled
forehead at the very moment we were talking.  And now that I think back, he was probably
rubbing his forehead as he was asking me if I was interested in coming for an interview and
thinking "Geezus I wish someone would put me out of my misery." 
So, we had the interview.  I ran my mouth at the appropriate times and shut it when it was necessary.  I listened.  He spoke.  Others spoke.  Then I spoke.  And around and around we go.  I remember he was very "down to business."  I still liked him.  I don't know why.  I still don't know why.  It's one of those things that make you scratch your head and say "hmmmmm."  They told me they would let me know either way.  Yes or no.  I was pretty sure at this point I had the job.  Don't ask me how I knew.  I just felt it.  I felt so "at home" with these people.  And of course I felt at home with the surroundings.  How could I not.  Old jail house.  People in charge that were major smart asses.  Yeah, it felt right.

The very next day, I was just leaving a clients home and I get a call from the jail.  I pull over because
I don't know what they are going to tell me and I don't want to wreck from happiness OR from crying
if they gave me the big "HELL NO."  I answer and it's Dic.  This is pretty much how the conversation went verbatum. 
ME:  "Hello?"
HIM:  "Amelia, this is Dic (No, he didn't use this name.  Stay with the program here!).  We were wondering if you were still interested in the job at the jail."
ME:  "Of course I am!" And I'm thinking "Duh, I was just there YESTERDAY for an interview, of course I still want the job!!"
HIM:  "Ok well you were the third one we picked for the positon (they were hiring three) and we will call you when we know when you need to come into get your paperwork for your physical and then you can go to the courthouse and get your paperwork in order."
ME:  "Oh thank you so much!  You are my new best friend!" I must have been delirious.
HIM:  "Don't thank me.  Thank the Sheriff.  He made the final decision.  I don't make friends."
ME:  "Well then thank the Sheriff for me and I will be waiting for your call."
Yes, I was happy, in the least, to get this phone call.  It changed my life in many ways. 
Now, let's fast forward to the first day that I started at this job.  I didn't really talk a whole bunch (I know, shocking) because #1) I didn't know a soul and #2) I didn't have a clue as to who these damned people were they were talking about.  So yeah, stand back and take it all in.  Dic, Big K, Lily were in the kitchen chatting away and I sauntered in and made myself comfortable leaning up against the sink and just listened.  Man that guy is a real piece of work.  He doesn't have a good thing to say about ANYONE.  He's worse than me when it comes to judging others.  And yes, I was talking about Dic. 
Finally, I just jumped in and asked him, "Hey, do you know Jiminy Cricket?" (Yes, another made up name, could you tell?)
"No."  Just a flat answer.  No emotion.  Not an inquiry as to who this person is.  Not an inquiry as to why I asked.  Just a big fat boring "No."  Hmmmm.  "Well, you remind me of him."  He turns and looks at me and rubs his head.  Aha!  I just KNEW he did that!!  "Didn't your family have a tiff with him or something?  Like maybe your family doesn't like him?" Thought you didn't know him asshole???  "No, we DON'T have a problem with him at all.  HE thought our family turned our backs on him because we supported my nephew in the election and HE lost."  "Oh was that it?"  Uh huh.  You can play stoopid all you want big guy but you obviously didn't get the whole story.  Too bad you started out lying to me.  And the whole time I'm telling myself that I'm not going to get along with this man.  That we are going to have problems.  That I hope I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life.  "How do I remind you of Jiminy?"  Got your attention didn't I mister?  "Well, he's kinda too big for his britches and is a real asshole to others."  That got a lot of laughter and the Sheriff, the one that rarely spoke, said, "Wow, she hit that nail right on the head."  Like I said, I figured this man and I were going to go rounds because now he was my DIRECT supervisor.  The one I had to go to with questions.  The one that had to teach me the ropes.  The one that was supposed to guide me.  Shit.  Looks like I stepped in it BIG TIME this time. 

So now I will fast forward a little more and tell you how I really feel about this man.  This man that I thought would be indescribable and a waste of my precious time.  He's so opinionated that sometimes I want to choke him.  I was just told today that "if two hands can go around it....." hell, I don't remember the rest.  It was something about golf but as I clearly pointed out to my little niece Annie, "if two hands can go around it, you can usually choke the life out of it."

Dic is now the first person that I go to when I have an issue.  He's the man I WANT handling my problems.  Even when he thinks he's just throwing sarcasm your way, he has a way of helping you see your problem in a whole new light and maybe even prove to you that even though you have it bad, someone else has it worse.  He's a lovable cynic.  If he read that, he would probably have a massive coronary.  He wants nothing more than to NOT be called lovable.  But he is.  He has this sick and twisted side of him that I can't seem to get enough of.  He'd be fun to examine body parts with.  Yes, he's one of those!

He's fuzzy.  Like a teddy bear, fuzzy.  I'm not going to go as far as to say he's warm and fuzzy.  I'll just stick with fuzzy. That's the best I can do.  Dic has a way of making you laugh out loud when you are down-in-the-dumps-depressed about something that is probably just stoopid anyway.  You can be on the verge of tears and he'll turn it around and tell you a story that will make you forget exactly what those tears were for.  Laughing or crying??

Dic likes to think that he's detached from his work family but he couldn't be any closer to them.  And vice versa.  I don't know a single person that doesn't smile as they describe him as the biggest asshole in our building.  And that actually goes for a lot of people that we DON'T work with as well.  I had a conversation with him recently about jeans.  He is one of these people that only gets to wear his jeans on his days off because, well obviously he has a uniform and therefore thinks he only needs to wash his jeans each week.  Eeks.  That creeps me out.  To the very core of my being, creeps me out.  I can wear a pair of jeans for an hour and when they come off, they most often go to the laundry room immediately.  Not because I piss my pants.  Or shit them.  At least not intentionally.  Usually.  I just believe that there are things that get on your clothes and by things....I mean like yucky air or bacterias or bugs or just
ANYTHING.  I mean, there's a WORLD of shit to get on your clothes.  I asked him what he would do if he sharted in his jeans.  You know, a fart gone completely wrong.  He says he would just throw his jeans out.  That would be the end of those!  Are you fucking kidding me??  Wow, I haven't sharted in my jeans yet but if I do, I'm washing those bad boys and NOW.  Why the hell would you throw out a perfectly good pair of jeans?  It may be different if you were walking around the hundred dollar store for hours with a big ole shit stain on your jeans because you needed to pass some gas in the kitchen appliance aisle and for some reason, you didn't feel the warm gooey goodness in your pants.  I don't know.  Yes, THEN I would be throwing my jeans away!  I can't even continue with this because it makes me go "What the FUCK???"

Dic thinks I'm related to everyone.  He should be lucky we don't work in my home county.  In my own defense though, I am related to a lot of people.  Shit I'm the baby of seven kids.  One died when she was young and all but me decided to multiply.  Of course I'm going to have relatives.  My mom was the oldest of five.  My dad was a middle child of twelve.  That leaves fifteen siblings of my parents to pro-create, multiply, divide and conquer!  Of course I'm related to a lot of people.  Then it doesn't help that Gee is related to a few people in our county that we live and work in.  Of course, he's either related to those that are constantly a burr in the pant leg of the law or it's someone on the political side.  Or the crazy side.  Shit maybe I AM related to everyone.  I hate it when he's right.  And he is.  A lot.


He tells really good stories, Dic does.  Like the one where he and his father were getting a boat out of a lake for some guy for the winter and Dic's dad fell in.  All Dic would do was stand there, point and laugh.  Pretty damned funny huh?  Well he had me IN TEARS when he goes on to say that in the end, after he wouldn't let his dad go put dry, warm clothes on, HE ends up falling in the lake.  Geezus he's good at story telling!!

Before I close, I would like to point out that Dic is extremely good at his job.  He's like a bulldog on the loose.  He really knows what he's doing out there.  I believe he's a fantastic Deputy.  When I asked around for opinions from others, this is what I got.  "He's really good at his job but there are parts of his youth that keep him from being a good supervisor or manager.  That gets in the way."  "He has great attention to detail but he tries too hard to not form emotional attachments.  He doesn't WANT to be anybody's friend and all he is accomplishing is everyone WANTING to BE his friend."  Nobody believes that this man doesn't love.  As much as he'd like us to believe it.  Because in all honesty, if he hated you...........you would know it.

I hope you have enjoyed at least a little of my blog tonight.  This was a hard one to write and I don't see the next two getting any easier.  The sounds of the rain have kept me on track and calm while thinking about those hard working men that I call "MY Sheriff and MY Deputies."  I hope they all know, by the end of this process, how much they are admired, adored and loved.  Thanks guys, for doing what you do and doing it well.  It truly is an honor working with you all.