Did I Really Lose My Radio?

One of the realities of self-publishing is that most of your sales, at least initially, are friends and family. My cousin texted me and asked, “Did you really lose your radio?” If you think that story sounds too real to be made up, you would be correct. The truth: My partner lost his radio and the woman that found it had this heavy Brooklyn accent like Cindy Lauper. And yes she talked and talked and would only shut up long enough for central dispatch to give out a job. While searching for the radio, we noticed that she stopped broadcasting. A sector car from my squad called us to meet on the corner. When we got there, our colleague handed over the radio. He saw the woman walking on the street talking into what looked like our police radio. When he heard her talking on his radio, he jumped out and took it from her. The officer went to the station, checked the serial number in the radio room, found out who signed out the radio, and quietly gave it back to my partner. Lost radio is a big deal in any police agency and my partner really got lucky on that one. Maybe not a transfer in real life, but a big flag in your personnel folder and sometimes they make you pay for the lost radio. “Bad Cop No Donut” was a bumper sticker I only saw once on a car in the early ’90s. I had it shouted at me once by a lady who was half-joking.