Feel like a Duck

A week went by without Terry causing his usual morning ruckus, mostly because Terry skipped treatment the entire time.  Terry had been given the option of going to outpatient rehab instead of jail.  If he skipped treatment, we were required to notify the court. At 9:00 a.m. the following Monday the probation officers arrived, looking for Terry. 

The Other Ken was running the morning group, so I met with them in our waiting room.  The male probation officer said a warrant had been issued for Terry.  The female probation officer gave me her card and asked that we call if he showed up.  Just then Terry burst through the door to our waiting room, only to discover the welcoming committee. 

Terry protested that he was in treatment.  “You see that I’m here today, don’t you?” he asked, clearly annoyed, and apparently not grasping the seriousness of the situation.

“Sorry Terry, but it’s too little too late,” the female PO said.

This kick started Terry.  He launched into a tirade about stupid judges, lazy probation officers, and our staff’s inability to get real jobs.

When insulting us had no effect, he became threatening. The probation officers clearly didn’t know who he was and he would have their badges.  We were all going to get sued.  He would mount a campaign to have the judge removed from the bench.

As they were cuffing him, Terry tried reasoning with the officers.

“I don’t feel a couple of DUIs put me in the same category as drug dealers or wife beaters or shoplifters,” he said in as calm a voice as he could muster. “I don’t feel I belong in jail with them.”

To which the male PO replied, “If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, how it feels about being a duck doesn’t really matter, now does it?” 

Today I will remember,

what I do says a lot more about who I am than how I feel about what I do.

Life on Life’s Terms II © 2015 by Ken Montrose

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