I have finally done it. I have signed up to get a permit allowing me to use the Car Pool lanes in and around Salt Lake City without an extra passenger.
I've been contemplating this move for over a year, ever since I changed jobs last year, and began to work near downtown Salt Lake City. It's 28 miles from my driveway to my parking spot at work, but at the best, this drive takes me 40 minutes on a good morning and 45 minutes on a good afternoon. The usual is closer to 50 minutes in the morning, and an hour in the afternoon. At least weekly, I'll have a day where I'll spend an hour driving in the morning, or an hour and a half in the afternoon.
I don't know if they make much money off the program, but UDOT allows drivers to purchase passes to use the Car Pool lanes for $50 a month. I've thought for a long time that this was simply too much money, but then today I actually broke it down.
Assuming that there are 20 working days in a month (at the very least...), $50 breaks down to $1.25 a trip. If we had those stupid pass things that allowed me to pay a toll here, and the price difference between a 40 minute commute and an hour and a half commute was only $1.25, I'd be on that like white on rice.
With my current pay, I only need to save three minutes in order to justify this decision. Money well spent.
I hate traffic.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
Moments of sadness at work
Working as a Constable, I have learned to have fairly thick skin. 95% of the time, the people I am serving have had many, many opportunities to take care of things prior to the time I show up on their porch. Often, I relish in being there at the exact moment someone realizes what a chump, what a drain on society they have been. It makes my day so much better to make someone else's day so much worse.
But sometimes, when I have to serve certain papers, I just feel bad doing so.
I often felt sympathy when I had to serve papers regarding a medical bill to someone who is obviously struggling with both their health and their financial situation. I have often felt really bad when attempting to serve papers only to find out that the defendant has passed away. One of the worst I can remember was when I had to serve eviction papers on a family the day before Thanksgiving, the same day that they had sent their father/husband off to Iraq. (The article doesn't mention the 30 minutes I spent with this woman, trying to get her to let me help contact some family, friends, religious leaders, anyone at all to help comfort or counsel her, the advise I gave her about contacting the JAG corps - because with her husband deployed, she and her family couldn't legally be evicted, etc...)
Despite all the sadness associated with the above duties, I often feel the most sympathy & sadness for someone I have just served with divorce papers. Not always, because often people were waiting for them & are finally glad to be getting them. (In fact, one time, a woman was so happy to be getting them that she grabbed me and gave me a hug!) But often, the sight of a Constable bringing divorce papers shakes someone up, & drags them to the belated realization that their marriage is really going to be over.
Last night, I had to serve a man who appeared to be in his mid twenties with divorce papers. He was a well built guy, someone who appeared to be formidable enough that I would rather not see him angry, yet he was trembling with fear when his father called him to the door. When I explained who I was and what I had for him, tears formed in his eyes. It was blatantly obvious that he was not prepared for the possibility that his marriage could be over. His world ended right there. I pitied him, having long ago been through a divorce myself. I wished to reach out, grab him by his shoulder, and tell him that everything would be alright. But that would be a lie. Everything isn't going to be alright. Not for a long time, if ever.
People getting divorce papers don't always even know they are coming. In fact, fairly often, I will be serving someone divorce papers while their soon-to-be-ex is still living in the house with them. Those can be very touchy, and more than a few times I've ended up calling the local police & told them not only what happened, but asked them to drive by a few times, maybe even stop & check in on the wife. (Usually those were cases where the wife was divorcing the husband, many times in an already abusive situation.) Still other times, a wife receiving divorce papers without warning will simply break down and cry for a few minutes, right there at the door. No words I can offer will comfort the feelings of loss and betrayal that they are feeling right at that moment.
When that happens, I do the only thing I can: Get back in the truck and head off to the next service. I've got a job to do.
But sometimes, when I have to serve certain papers, I just feel bad doing so.
I often felt sympathy when I had to serve papers regarding a medical bill to someone who is obviously struggling with both their health and their financial situation. I have often felt really bad when attempting to serve papers only to find out that the defendant has passed away. One of the worst I can remember was when I had to serve eviction papers on a family the day before Thanksgiving, the same day that they had sent their father/husband off to Iraq. (The article doesn't mention the 30 minutes I spent with this woman, trying to get her to let me help contact some family, friends, religious leaders, anyone at all to help comfort or counsel her, the advise I gave her about contacting the JAG corps - because with her husband deployed, she and her family couldn't legally be evicted, etc...)
Despite all the sadness associated with the above duties, I often feel the most sympathy & sadness for someone I have just served with divorce papers. Not always, because often people were waiting for them & are finally glad to be getting them. (In fact, one time, a woman was so happy to be getting them that she grabbed me and gave me a hug!) But often, the sight of a Constable bringing divorce papers shakes someone up, & drags them to the belated realization that their marriage is really going to be over.
Last night, I had to serve a man who appeared to be in his mid twenties with divorce papers. He was a well built guy, someone who appeared to be formidable enough that I would rather not see him angry, yet he was trembling with fear when his father called him to the door. When I explained who I was and what I had for him, tears formed in his eyes. It was blatantly obvious that he was not prepared for the possibility that his marriage could be over. His world ended right there. I pitied him, having long ago been through a divorce myself. I wished to reach out, grab him by his shoulder, and tell him that everything would be alright. But that would be a lie. Everything isn't going to be alright. Not for a long time, if ever.
People getting divorce papers don't always even know they are coming. In fact, fairly often, I will be serving someone divorce papers while their soon-to-be-ex is still living in the house with them. Those can be very touchy, and more than a few times I've ended up calling the local police & told them not only what happened, but asked them to drive by a few times, maybe even stop & check in on the wife. (Usually those were cases where the wife was divorcing the husband, many times in an already abusive situation.) Still other times, a wife receiving divorce papers without warning will simply break down and cry for a few minutes, right there at the door. No words I can offer will comfort the feelings of loss and betrayal that they are feeling right at that moment.
When that happens, I do the only thing I can: Get back in the truck and head off to the next service. I've got a job to do.
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