Another Brush With The Law

 

 

I don’t exactly know how I get myself into these predicaments.  Sometimes things seem to just sort of happen to me. Anyway, I had a rather lengthy discussion with an officer of the law this week. There I was minding my own business…

Last Wednesday, as I was off from work, I decided to go do some errands in the afternoon, and on my way, trying to be good, I stopped for gas. Ok, so I was on almost empty and I am never supposed to be on empty…BUT I did stop before I hit the fumes!  This stopping always comes with an internal debate of whether I can make it to my destination and an “Oh I’ll just stop later, on my way home”….and…. “ Ugh, I am not supposed to get this low.” So, I was (almost) self disciplined (if one chooses to look at it that way) and I stopped before I shopped. I have to digress to explain how I was dressed because you need an image to appreciate this story. Unlike my typical work self in a sharp suit with low heels, hair either up, or blow dried straight and tamed, I was dressed in white thin cotton cargo pants, a fuchsia cotton T-shirt shirt with snaps, layered over white lace which peeked out, white sneakers with pink trim, my hair left in it’s natural state, curls, down past my shoulders, the front part loosely pulled back with a light pink hair clip, silver jewelry. The whole look was definitely casual, feminine; I guess “a suburban house wife in pink and white” look? But hot pink is hot pink, and makes it’s own statement.

Anyway, I pulled into the gas station and noticed a policeman sitting in his car. I slowly pulled past him and to the pump, and began the complicated process that is me getting gas. I had to find my credit card, open the tank, run the card, read the instructions and push all the right buttons…well I was intent and busy! Suddenly I heard “Excuse me M’am” over my shoulder. I made one of those girly squeaks “OH!” and a little jump, being startled out of my intense concentration on pumping the gas. “Can I see your license and registration please?” “Oh what now?” I am thinking as I said “Um, sure” and went into the car to look.

Now, I am sure it is not just me, but a very good-looking broad-shouldered man, in a uniform, with an authoritative tone rattles me. I managed to collect myself enough to think to go into my wallet to retrieve my recently renewed drivers license (thank you Grant! :) ) and started rummaging for my owner’s card in the glove box. It was not there.  It HAD to be there. It was not there. I grabbed my insurance card, the receipt for my recent yearly state inspection, and my license, and hopefully presented the three items to the policeman who looked at them, and then back at me questioningly. “I know I have a registration card but I can’t find it right now!” (Why do we say these lame things? I have no idea…but you have to say something, you know?”) He raised one eyebrow and just gazed at me. Was this guy a Top or what??? Then he asked a trick question, as they like so much to do, “Do you remember being stopped about 6 months ago?” OMG I am thinking…do I remember my own name? No, I remember nothing…well vaguely I remember something but I am not sure just what, and I already feel guilty and I don’t even know what for! Does this experience not feel familiar to you wives and girlfriends? We have been here before. He knows something you don’t know and he’s going to nail you…and this is NOT going to be good. You try to imagine with some desperation what might be the right answer? “Ok…when in doubt deny, deny, deny!” I said to myself. “No, I am pretty sure I don’t remember being stopped.” The raised eyebrow again…what is with that?

“So you are not aware that this car is not registered and has not been since December of 2009?” He was triggering all my submissive buttons before I knew it, and I started babbling like an idiot.  “Oh I know my car is registered! It has to be. I know I can’t find my card but I am sure I have it somewhere!” “Come over here.”he says, leading me to his patrol car, knowing I will follow.  Now we are in broad daylight, and he was excessively clean-cut, calm, and as I was pretty sure he was going to neither arrest me nor spank me, so I followed. He got into his car, and sitting, looking up at me as I stood beside him, he pointed to his lap top screen. “Look here. The State says your car is unregistered.  If the State says your car is unregistered, it is unregistered!” He looked at me, measuring my response. “Is this your car M’am?”

That question and his proof of apparent guilt started me on a long convoluted story that involved me explaining that the car was actually a company car, but I was the driver, and I know it had to be registered because it was recently inspected, and I am sure the office has the card, and if I could just call my secretary… “Oh…Would you like to speak with my secretary? Her name is Amy. ”  I called her on the phone “Amy would you explain to the officer…” The officer of the law did not want to talk to Amy. He did, however, show interest in my story that resulted in his further examination of the receipt for inspection from the service station which I somehow managed to get without a legal registration. Amy explained to me that she too was “sure the car was registered” and “almost sure” she had a cancelled check, but she did not happen to have a copy of the card either. She sent away to the state for a duplicate card. Unbeknownst to me (I swear!)  she tried to fix all this by explaining to the nice man at the service station that “the registration was in the mail”. He apparently decided to issue the inspection sticker as a favor to me, her, us. I knew none of this! I am innocent I tell you!

By the time he was finished with me (and Amy), I think he surmised that issuing me a citation and subjecting some judge to me (and Alex) would be a disservice to the court. He did tell me he was going call the service station, which did result in the service station calling my husband and yelling at him for reporting them, and then resulted in my husband calling me and asking “WHERE are you? Are you ok? WHAT happened?” By then the whole thing was over and I was shopping. Rather than writing me the ticket which the officer had first mentioned, he took pity and wrote down the URL for online registration, patiently explained that in 5 minutes and for $36.00 I could be legal, which I in fact was not right now, and how if I hit someone such as himself with my car, my insurance would not pay, and he doubted I could afford to pay his salary on my own. I thanked him and left with the information in hand, promising sincerely to have this taken care of right away!

That was when it hit me. I am an executive. I run companies. I make money. I boss lots of people around!  But you know what, faced with a dominant man in a position of authority, and dressed in pink on my way to the fabric store, I dropped into my submissive persona at his first “Excuse me M’am”. I am sure he saw me as a rather confused and ditzy, if nice, lady…polite, compliant, clearly on the outside of the law but with all kinds of excuses, and in the end he felt compelled to scold me mildly and then to set me on the right track.

Most times I slip in and out of my various personas and roles in my life without much conscious thought or awareness, but sometimes I step back and wonder how the same woman can be such a ditz and a savvy business woman, a boss and a submissive wife simultaneously. I can negotiate and close deals, and then lose my (unregistered) vehicle in the parking lot all on the same day. I really don’t know what to make of it and I am not sure if all women feel this way or if it has to do with the fact that I have very different sides of me that create this walking contradiction that is me.

I do know that I phoned Amy and firmly directed her to go online and register my car before the hour was out!

 

Advertisement