I had a rather disturbing telephone call at work this week.
It was one of those jobs which seems to take days to deal with. One of the ones that is always getting put at the back of the queue & with limited resources, ends up taking appearing on the list of jobs day after day.
It was one of the ‘bread & butter’ jobs, one of the ones we get loads of every single day. Domestic-related the ex kept texting messages to the other half. We’d been trying to get hold of the woman concerned to find out when she’d be available for us to send an officer. She was never & her mobile was always on ansaphone. After the third day I tried the number & got through. I wanted to make a simple arrangement to send someone round but as so often is the case, I got the entire history. By the end of the conversation I knew more about the pair of them than I did my own wife.
I’m not sure if she was drunk or not, she didn’t sound particularly well educated. She had been a druggie but was, apparently, in recovery, she didn’t work. I was too polite to end the conversation, perhaps I just wasn’t busy or bored or something but I let her prattle on for about 15 or 20 minutes.
It got to the point when she was regailing me with the story of how her ex had climbed in a window while she was at her group therapy meeting the other week, gone though all her drawers & stolen her vibrator, that I decided enough was enough.
There are just some things a controllerĂ‚Â doesn’t need to know.